(Fuck you)I’m Still a Woman

I saw it happen to someone today and it reminded me of what I went through myself.

I remember struggling under the weight of a massage table and my various bags while some asshole chatted on his phone just outside the door. Once I was inside I paused to readjust my shoulder strap and watched as this summer’s eve opened the door for a thin woman who was carrying only a purse.

I began to notice it everywhere.

-Clothing stores that cut off sexy at a size 12
-Television shows where the hefty girls are comedic relief, the dateless best friend, the asexual sidekick, the compassionate caretaker.
-People thinking that I was strong or capable of physical labor they would not have asked someone half my size to even consider.
-Websites and comments that compare women of size to animals and furniture,
-Classified as pretty but never beautiful, photographed boobs up.

This idea by the general population that my weight makes me invisible as a person and non applicable as a woman.

(fucking sigh)

My dress size does not dictate the diverseness my femininity!

My “Womyness” is something within,
It goes past my hips and thighs and as my trans sisters can attest to it is deeper than even my vagina.
It is not measured by the size of my breasts or their ratio to my stomach.

The honor of being a woman is something you are born with.
Not something that is earned.
Not a gift given to you.

So fuck you society. You don’t get to take this away from me.
You don’t get to take away the feeling of hands brushing up my legs, or silk curling around my sides.
You don’t get to take away the thrill of the tease or the batting of eyes.
I will not surrender to you and consider this shell to be a sin.
I will not pay a penance for my plumpness.

I defy you with every v-neck top
Every short skirt
Every lacey bra
Every ruby red kiss
Every dip of my hips
Every laugh of joy and cry of orgasmic release.

You don’t get to tell me who or what I am.

You don’t get to tell that woman… that beautiful beautiful woman who she is either.


Yawn and stretch) now that I have had some rest…..

Normally I paint a scene and give everyone a bit of background information but I feel that this incident of jackassery needs no such introduction

For suggesting that I lack the ability to do my job because I am fat.
Fuck you!!
Fuck you!!
Fuck You!!!!!!
I wish I had paid more attention in latin and biology class so that I could appropriately place you into the correct order, family, species, and genus of Ed Hardy Brotard you were obviously born into.

You know two years ago I would have cried. I would have been embarrassed. I would have not eaten for a week and then crawled inside a couple of cartons of Häagen-Dazs but now

Now I refuse to let some sizest shit head send me spiraling into a binge and purger.
Yeah I’m fat
and I’m also a damn skippy therapist
My size has nothing to do with my precision or skill you (insert all sorts of hyphenated f-bomb references to the vilest creatures imaginable) My deep tissue is a beast and my therapeutic precision capabilities have been trained tested and proven. So lets call a spade a spade. It wasn’t about the massage was it? It’s because as Kathryn put it “I didn’t make your dick hard”. If you wanted a massage you can jack off to you should have peeped the fucking metro jackass.

And while I’m on this mini massage rant
Little Miss Vanity… male massage therapist don’t want to molest you.
Homophobic Douche Bag… male massage therapist don’t want to molest you either and I know several tiny female massage therapists that will make you cry uncle with their deep tissue.

We are professionals… we go to school for this and judging our work based on size, sex or sexual-orientation makes you kinda suck

like a hoover.