Remember when I made that resolution to stop talking about my weight? It's May, get over it already.
No, but seriously, what I really meant was that I was going to try to stop complaining about my weight. And I'm not complaining, really! I have gained some, and due to vast strides in self-acceptance, I am actually pretty cool with it. I would be lying if I said that I don't sometimes have a knee-jerk negative reaction to a photograph of myself or make Olivia crop out my expanded belly, but I no longer walk around in a state of toxic self-loathing just because I had to cut out dresses without stretchy waistbands.
That said, the annual waxing of my figure has also brought about the return of one feisty little critter I'd forgotten about: the FUPA. The FUPA, if you ain't heard, is the F(at) U(pper) P(ussy) A(rea) and it is the place in my body that most likes to snatch up delicious calories, cruelly denying them to other areas that could use them like my Midwestern pancake ass.
Believe me, I have pounded fruitlessly on God's barrel chest about this -- he refuses to squeeze all that digested pizza into my tits, either. "Straight to the FUPA," he bellows instead.
OK, well. If I must carry this lumpy bag of cupcakes over my genitals, can I at least find someone to sexually fetishize it? I went on an Internet hunt for FUPA-lovers.
Yahoo Answers always makes me feel good about humanity! Hahahahha, no it doesn't, it makes me want to kill myself.
Well, DO THEY?
Guess not. :(
Remember when Lesley said a woman is not a collection of parts? She's right; I'm sorry I'm so fascinated by my parts, and other people's reactions to them. If it makes it any better, I think it's just a weird sex thing.
In my Craigslist-sexing days, one of my favorite kinds of ads to post was one seeking breast fetishists. Not just regular dudes who liked bewbz, but real freaky breast guys who would be satisfied to just play with them for an hour without even asking me to touch their junk. We would literally meet up, I'd pop my girls out, and maybe at the end somebody would end up with cum on their breasts. Yay, parts!
But if nobody wants to fondle my FUPA, I guess I'll just have to resort to my signature move of posting pictures of my "unattractive" human stuff on xoJane to normalize my body to myself and hopefully provide comfort to those who have similar stuff going on under their jeggings. (See: back fat, bellies.) Thank God you're here!
In added comfort, the word FUPA is quite funny-sounding and makes me think of chalupas, which are delicious.
PS: If anyone out there is still thinking about how disgusting my FUPA is, allow me this well-thought-out retort I like to use when anyone accuses me of not adhereing to societal beauty standards: "What? I got a man."