Baby got back

Baby got back

This blog post also appears on the Fairlady site.

‘Big’ is a word you should use very cautiously when talking to women. It’s like waving a red flag at a bull, quite frankly. It could very easily turn a conversation into a landmine-ridden no-go zone that ends direly in explosions and yes, ultimately, death.

In fact, I can only think of four complimentary ways you could carefully use the word ‘big’ when talking to someone of the fairer sex (and even these are used at your own risk).

You can tell a woman she has:

  1. Big eyes
  2. A big heart
  3. Jeans etc etc that are too big for her
  4. Big boobs (DISCLAIMER <mainly> for <idiotic/creepy> men: this ‘compliment’ is not always taken as such and should be said when looking into a women’s eyes, NOT while staring appreciatively at her cleavage, licking your lips and pretend-cupping them mid-air. In fact maybe you just shouldn’t say this at all.)
Men, this is a trap. Like the sun, do NOT stare directly at the cleavage.

Considering all of this I was shocked when my boyfriend looked lovingly into my eyes and used the word ‘big’ in what was, to me anyway, the least complimentary way possible. But I must say that since Mr Tall is black I’ve noticed a few cultural differences between him and my ‘white tendencies’ – one of these is in what is seen as attractive.

Anyway. On to the insul… I mean complimen… That thing he said. You know what I mean.

Mr Tall (I would call him ‘Big’ but that’s already been taken) and I were lying on my bed chatting the other day, nose to nose. He stroked my hair, snaked a hand round my waist and grabbed my bum. My tooshie still firmly in his hand, he looked deeply into my eyes and said, with all the care and tenderness in the world, “You know, you have a big bum.”




“Well, I’m trying!” I exclaimed with distress, trying not to blush. Mr Tall looked confused and asked, “What do you mean, trying?” I looked down then back into his eyes. “It’s not good to have a big bum! I’m, you know, gymming and stuff!” He laughed, squeezed and replied, “No, I like it! You could even go bigger, if possible.”

I was surprised too.

For one thing, I’ve spent pretty much most of this year working very hard on downsizing my bootie. Step-machines, lunges, running, squats. You name it and I’ve sweated and sworn while doing it. A compliment like that tends to throw you off track for a bit.

My friends were also surprised at this compliment. His statement that I could “even go bigger” clanged alarm bells in a few of their early warning systems. “Sam,” at least two of them counselled fervently, “maybe he’s a fat feeder! Watch out friend!” In my ignorance I immediately turned to our universe’s current greatest knowledge source: THE GOOGLE, and searched for ‘fat feeders’. It was then that I ran across Fantasy Feeder, a website dedicated to fat feeders, obese dating and love for the large.

After browsing the site with morbid fascination and gradually increasing horror, I knew within milliseconds that Mr Tall was definitely not a fat feeder. But what a strange world I’d stumbled upon!

Haters gonna hate!

Here are some mind-scarring quotes from the site:

  • “About 25 minutes later, she was halfway through her feast when she noticed that her almost rock hard stomach was wedging her firmly into the booth while pushing her back at the same time, and her jeans were beginning to rip apart. Laughing to herself, she continued to eat…”
  • “Within 10 seconds of Kate closing the door behind her, Jeff was furiously masturbating. Visions of Kate plumping up ran through his head as he stroked himself. Jeff would never say it out loud, but he loved that Kate was putting on weight.”
  • “‘So, she’ll have nachos for starter, oh and some potato skins with bacon. Then the BBQ chicken pizza, large. Side of fries and garlic bread,’ he reeled off the order without glancing at the menu. ‘Okay is that all for you?’ [the waitress asked]. ‘Oh no, I’ll have the Pasta and meatballs please,’ he smiled. Lucy flushed bright red. He did it on purpose. He always let everyone know that almost all the food was for her.”

Aside from forcing me to discover the fat feeder underworld (some of those mental images will be burned in my mind’s eye FOREVER) I’m also shocked that my friend’s first reaction to Mr Tall’s love of my plus-sized bum was that there must be something wrong with him.

The clear undercurrent is that it’s not OK to like anything out of the Western norm. The millions of images of stick thin models have brainwashed us, and though I do accept that I need to lose weight to make myself happy with who I am, I also resent that liking a round tooshie is considered so incredibly abnormal that my friends briefly thought he had a fat fetish.

And while I’m struggling to accept his compliment as a compliment, because I too have been brainwashed by Western society’s ideals, it is lovely to have someone in your life that loves your bum. And I love that. A BIG deal.

Photo credits: Tony Alter on Flickr, IGNACIOLEO on SXC.


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