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From Encyclopedia Dramatica

This is the entry I allude to in "Fat Writing" section. Feel free to embolden/otherwise emphasize the lines that hint to you that she is a fatty. I'll start.

[edit] fat entry from good_sex community

Something I actually wrote while at my bf's last Friday/Saturday =) (xposted from my LJ)

What a night! I actually didn't have to to my restaurant shift tonight (Friday evening). That means I'm spending some time with my Rob.

When I got home from work at about 4 in the afternoon, I called him up to see what I was doing tonight. I told him, "not much." Then he started talking in that sexy man voice of his, and asked me if I could dress a little sexy. I said, "sure, anything for you." Anyway, when I chose my outfit, I looked for the one piece dark <a href="green%20dress" onmouseover="window.status='green dress'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=; return true;">green dress</a> I had. It's sort of the corset bodice type, one piece, with two slits on the side. Extends to just around my calves. I did think of going with some 'fuck me' pumps, but I felt a little Gothy, so I got my purple Doc Marten style boots instead. My makeup stayed in the normal 'hot date' style, but with a little more emphasis on the eyes. I pulled up my hair in a bun that Rob could undo easily. Underwear. Hmm. Oh yeah... I don't do this much [No, because fat people usually don't get laid, they get teh raped] , but since I wanted to be ready for anything with Rob... I got one of my smaller <a href="lace%20panties" onmouseover="window.status='lace panties'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=; return true;">lace panties</a> [small for her is a pair of underwear skinned from an entire elephant --BrettPritch] Not thong size, but still enough for Rob to do his thang on me, should he just push it over. Oh yeah... I was prepared for a major fuck session all right!

I grabbed my long, <a href="black%20leather" onmouseover="window.status='black leather'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=; return true;">black leather</a> trenchcoat, a choker, gloves, a big bag with some extras (I wasn't coming back home with the Gothy outfit![Goths wear black because it's 'slimming' - not because it lets them hide in the safety of the night. Real vampires wear purple velvet. --無]), and a nice hat. Kind of like the one you'd see Carmen Sandiego in, but a black one, and not too big.

After my subway ride, I meet up with Rob, somewhere in Queens. (No, I'm not giving away the exact 'hood... sorry! :P) When I first see him, I had the biggest shit eating grin, a mile wide. It was nice to see him all suited up, even though it was just a night at his place. Then he kisses me deep, as he grabs my bag. Damn, he's good! He even gave me a little tongue action[Cause nobody else tried to get through-Ribo]... *Swoons* He takes me back to his place.

Once we got in, he had the lights low on the place. Dinner was all ready... he made it. MMM... I don't know how he does it, but even though I've lost a lot of weight recently [sorry but FAT BITCHES ARE THE ONLY ONES THAT SAY THAT, OK --Quasidan], I still love the rich cooking that he does for me. He made a pizza with the thick Chicago crust... with a bit of everything! Paired it with a cooked kale salad. Instead of some red wine, he got us a nicer, chilled <a href="pinot%20noir" onmouseover="window.status='pinot noir'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=; return true;">pinot noir</a>. Oh, that stuff tingled my tongue like a nice champagne.

As some soft jazz music wafted in the background, while we ate, Rob got to talking about out future life together. He was ecstatic about the raise he got in his salary, after demanding it for several months, and I told him about the possibility of my getting a raise too. He was quite happy to hear about that.

We both managed to clear out two small servings of salad, and about two slices of his pizza. ARRR... he's good. I could've gone for another slice, but I think I had enough.

While he was cleaning up, he made a little coffee for both of us. I just sat myself down in the sofa in his living room. My God, I already felt wet in my pussy! My face felt a little warm. Of course, that might be from the wine, but I felt good. He comes back with the coffee, and hands me a cup of it. "It's the Sumatra," he said. I nodded, and put on some cream on the thing. Skipped the sugar for now.

As we were sipping... I began to say sexy nothings to Rob...

"Hey... your joystick's in here, dear..." I was feeling up around is crotch. Man, his cock was hard already. He then threw the tie off his shirt, to the floor. Then he put down his cup, and gently put down mine. I grabbed the remote to his <a href="home%20theater%20system" onmouseover="window.status='home theater system'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=; return true;">home theater system</a>, and turned it off. He then grabs my ass, squeezing it. "I want to taste you, Shelly... lemme do the honors." We kiss and feel each other out... his hands are feeling out my back, as he undoes my dress slowly. He doesn't undo it completely, and kisses me on the lips some more. Then he licks around my neck, and teases around the top of my tits with his tongue.

"Take me to the chamber, Rob. Take me."

He then lifts me up, holding me on my ass. I cross my legs behind his back, feeling his hard cock across the layers of clothes. Yeah, he's got a pretty massive one, ladies! All mine, raw for the taking.

Once we hit the bed, Rob does a little strip show for me... pulling off the buttoned shirt, then... undoing the pants. He leaves his <a href="boxer%20briefs" onmouseover="window.status='boxer briefs'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=; return true;">boxer briefs</a> on, though. I pull him back to the bed with me, and we kiss again, lightly this time. Then I grab Rob's strong hands, and let him take my dress off. "eat my tits, boy," I tell him. He squeezes my tits together, so he could swing his tongue over both mipples quickly. I fucking love it when he does that, 'cause it really me makes me cum harder, the longer I get worked up. Meanwhile, my right hand plays with his briefs, gently rubbing his cock. I wanted to suck that thing...

Rob puts me down on my back, and while still playing with my tits, makes his way down to my navel. He tongue fucks it, which makes me laugh, as I'm kinda ticklish down there. "Oh, rob!" Having heard that, he travels [She's so damn fat he has to take a taxi just to reach her clit --Kab000m] his way down to my clit. Rob doesn't seem to mind that I left some hair on. I only trim enough to keep it out of the way of most <a href="bikini%20panties" onmouseover="window.status='bikini panties'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=; return true;">bikini panties</a>. My clit was already sensitive, so he just flicked his tongue back and forth. Now he's holding on to my ass, while I begin to moan softly, and squeeze my tits. At various times, I pull them up far enough, so I can lick my own nipples. It's so nice to do that, especially 'cause they're all mine. 100% real tits. No artificial ingredients, bitches!

God, I could've stayed like this forever... but I wanted to taste my man's parts.

I swinp myself up[Normal-sized people can just sit up, they don't need the extra force of a swing --無], then flip rob over. Finally, I pull off his boxers, and claw at his chest. One hand in the stick, while I lick his man tits. [What the fuck MAN TITS? -Knick Knack] Oh yeah... he's got a pretty good bod. Not the most muscular, but still good enough to eat. [Fat people can only have sex with other fat people. -Ballsackenstein] :P

"Goddamn, bitch, if you rub me like that..." I kiss him to shut him the fuck up, then I head straight for the stick. For good measure, I lift myself up a bit, so I could have one hand in my pussy. First, I tease the head while I rub the shaft. You could tell that he was primed; quietly, he moaned his approval. Then, I suck it. I form a vacuum like suction, and suck the whole thing in. He loves that. My other hand plays with his balls. I pull on them a bit, intensifying his pleasure. After about a half minute, I stop. "You ready for a good ride?" I tell him slyly. He smiles big, and nods.

"Hell yeah, ride it good. FUCK IT!"

At first, I slowly go up and down on the head. I plant my hands on his chest, while [After much digging to get under my fat - Miniges] one of Rob's hands plays with my clit. I was so aroused, that I took my right hand back, and take the clip off my hair, letting it fall on my back.

I couldn't take it anymore. I pumped slowly at first, giving rob some time to figure out where to plant one of his hands. He really loves to play with my tits. Soon, he follows my pumping motions. I wanted to feel more, so I sunk myself down. We were both together... pumping... soon we speed up to the point where we were practically in lockstep. I couldn't help myself... my body was convulsing in little jolts. Rob's thick, hard cock just felt so good... my pussy was grabbing on to it tight... I was about to cum... "ohh, ohh, yes..." We were both getting pretty sweaty and sticky... Rob speeded up things a bit. Now the whole bed was shaking! His bed doesn't have springs, so it wasn't too noisy, but still a bit loud. Or was it us?

As I was about to flood my pussy with my clear jizz, I kissed Rob for a second.

"AHAHHAHAAAAAHHH! AHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH! OHHH SHITTT!" I was cumming. Rob was still rock fucking hard, but I could tell that he was about to spray my pussy with his load. His balls were stiff in position. I put a hand on his balls, and felt the wet liquid that came from my pussy. God, I was putting out a load! Then, Rob came. He just grunted real loud. "UNNGGUNNGGG ARRRRRRR" It made me cum a second time. I didn't really scream, but my body felt the hard waves of our orgasms together. My pussy really was wet this time.

About a minute later, we slowed down. Normally, I'd get up, and suck his cock dry, but I stayed slightly motionless this time. We wanted to enjoy the warm afterglow together. I think he liked that too. "Hey, Shel, want to shower together?" How could I refuse?

We both grab some scrunchies while in the shower, as we clean each other up. Barely minutes into the shower, I notice Rob was hard again. [Bob is a 13-year-old boy --FB] "One more run?" I ask. He kisses me, and positions himself against a corner. "I want your ass to hit the shower stream. Turns me on." Heh, what a gentleman! We just settle into this gentle flow, kiss softly the whole time, and like before, I cum first, then rob right after. Wow, we were really satiated after that.

Now we're just settling in, and cuddling in the buff, under the covers. I love this boy... *dreamy*[Fat people are accustomed to dreaming, for obvious reasons. --無]

I thought good_sex would be a good source for jackoff material, but turns out it's just fucking fatties. Geez.

Also, note that the OP, ulteraedd_3g00, is a member of both recipe_kitchen AND gothic_curves.

--Quasidan 03:05, 15 Apr 2005 (UTC)

• This entire goddamn section should be bolded.--Paco650 00:35, 9 May 2006 (UTC)

"Anyone who was gone through puberty..." is this supposed to be funny, or is it a mistake?

• You're a mistake. --無 00:54, 29 Aug 2005 (UTC)

[edit] LULZ POTENTIAL

HAHAHA FATTY MISSED CONNECTIONS [1] --Quasidan 19:24, 21 October 2006 (UTC)

[edit] Horrific Page

This is the most disgusting and horrific page I've ever read online. I cannot believe someone would do something like this. This is wikipedia online encyclopedia. The 1st Amendment gives you the right to freedom of speech, which is why I won't request for this page to be erased. But I ask you this, "where are your scientific facts to prove all these preverse sexual things that you claim Fat women and men have?" You truly are a SICK PERVERT and obviously have some mental issuses. All of your statements are FALSE and people must know that. Obesity is NOT the only eating disorder out there.

There was once upon a time in history that fat people were admired and considered a beauty, which explains the art work that you have posted here online. Today, with the aid of the media and the entertainment industry, we look at fat people as disgusting. where is it written that everyone has to be proportionately thin? You watch TV and see all these decked out, and probably in your perspective, beautiful thin people, but do you see what they look like when the make-up, wigs, hair extentions, etc. are removed? Also, weight has become such a problem in most developing countries that women and men are either starving themselves to be thin, purging every meal, or turning to gastric by-pass surgery to lose weight. It's horrible, and people like you, with your sick sense of ideology, are only helping to make it all worse!

loltroll. Jimbobbowilly 09:11, 16 June 2007 (CDT)

You're a fatty. Fatty want another cheeseburger? Miss PMS

Troll'd! Brash 19:06, 12 July 2007 (CDT)

[edit] The story of The Sugar Monster

The true story of a fatty in pain. By Heidi, The Sugar Monster

And I am so fucking tired of being ashamed. I’m so fucking tired of hiding my reality because it isn’t as pretty as someone else’s. I’m so tired of believing I’m an embarrassment to fat people, as if my very existence is harming the fat acceptance movement. I may be an anomaly but I still exist and I still matter. So I’m going to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m going to tell you what it’s like to live in my body.

I’m 5’6” and I weigh 530 pounds. Well, 529.8 to be exact but I round up.

I have insulin resistance, hypertension, high cholesterol, gastroesophageal reflux disease, depression and social anxiety and am on medication for all of it. I take a lot of pills! I’ve had to sleep sitting up for the last several months. I do sleep but not long and not deeply…I miss dreaming. My circulation is horrible and my arms and legs frequently go numb or swell so badly I can’t move and I feel as if the skin is literally going to split open. My poor circulation also causes severe discoloration all over the lower half of my body as well as both forearms. I have some issues with incontinence because I carry all of my weight in my belly and there’s a lot of pressure on my bladder. My lower belly is so large and heavy that having it hang from my body is actually painful. I have a lot of problems with infections between my skin folds and summer really isn’t helping matters.

I can’t walk or stand longer than a few seconds and I’m so afraid of my ankles or knees giving out from under me. Walking from my bedroom to the bathroom leaves me gasping for breath and my legs shaking from exertion. Usually I have to stop half way there and lean on something for a few seconds. Several months ago I had to get a disability placard for my car. God, I was so embarrassed by that. Not was. Am. I can’t stand people seeing me park in the disabled spot. Sometimes…cough…sometimes if people are watching me, I totally fake a limp. Because I hate the idea of people thinking fat = disabled.

At the end of June I had to take a leave of absence from my job because getting out of bed and going to work every day was too painful and difficult. I had pushed myself for so many months, through the pain and exhaustion, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I was on the verge of physically and mentally collapsing and I couldn’t bring myself to fake it for one more day. Plus, my seat belt doesn’t fit me any longer and driving on the freeways in LA with no seat belt is a terrifying experience! Even more so when you take into account the fact that I was dozing off at the wheel (due my sleep issues) several times a week. Work was going to kill me one way or another!

There are friends I haven’t seen in years. Good friends who I used to see regularly and who I’ve known for more than half my life. Who used to know everything about me until my reality became a secret. Now I lie to them about why we don’t spend time together. Because I don’t want to say, “I love you but it hurts me too much to walk. I love you and I miss you and it hurts not to see you but the physical pain is so much worse.” So I say something vague about not feeling well which isn’t really a lie but isn’t really true either. Because I can’t bring myself to tell them that every step feels like a thousand and my body is breaking. I’ve always been the strong one and I don’t know how to admit I’m weak.

I don’t remember when it started. Because I didn’t talk about it and I sure as hell didn’t write about it. Probably a year ago, I’d guess. (I can’t do it. I just can’t. It’s too embarrassing. I don’t want people to see me differently. I don’t want them to be disgusted by me. I don’t want to…please don’t make me say it. It’s too much. I haven’t even written it and I’m already crying…please…) I was no longer able to clean myself after going to the bathroom. Every time I went to the bathroom, I had to take a shower.

While I was at work I would try to hold it. I frequently made myself sick and gave myself painful stomach cramps doing so. I had IBS to begin with and that didn’t help matters. Worse, it didn’t always work. So I’d go to the bathroom and have to spend the rest of the day sitting in my own shit. Sometimes for one hour, sometimes eight. The physical discomfort was awful but nothing in comparison to the shame. Fuck. The shame. Wondering if you smell, wondering if people know, wondering if they talk about it when you’re not in the room. Hoping that no one says anything so you stay as far away from everyone as possible. I felt so disgusting and so embarrassed that I just wanted to die. And I truly felt I would rather die than admit it to anyone. (Oh my god, what are people going to think of me now? I don’t want to do this at all. Please let’s stop Please, it’s too much.)

I can’t stand for more than a few seconds which made the frequent showering very difficult and painful. So, now my mom cleans me. I’m 28 years old and my mom has to wipe my ass. It’s been a few months and I still apologize every time. Every single time even though she keeps telling me to stop. Because I’m just so embarrassed that I can’t take care of myself.

Oh yeah…the whole showering thing. I can’t do that anymore either. I haven’t had a shower in months. Because I can’t stand and because it’s difficult for me to even fit inside the shower these days. My mom brings a bucket of warm water, baby soap, a wash cloth, and towel into my room and washes me. Sometimes I close my eyes and genuinely enjoy the feeling of becoming clean. But a lot of times I cry. I lay on my bed while my mom washes me and I cry.

I do that a lot. Cry. Sometimes I cry because I miss having a life and I want to do so many things but physically can’t. Sometimes I cry because I don’t know how much longer I can handle any of it. Sometimes it’s out of shame. Sometimes it’s from the pain. Sometimes it’s because I can feel my body shutting down and I’m truly afraid I’m going to die very soon. Sometimes it’s because I wish I were already dead.

And sometimes I cry out of sorrow. I place my hands on my belly and I whisper to my body how sorry I am. Sorry that she’s going to have to be cut up; sorry that I couldn’t fix things on my own; sorry that I let things go so far before I asked for help; sorry that she’s hurting so much; sorry that I feel imprisoned by her; sorry that I don’t always love her or treat her the way I should. I cry and I apologize for everything that’s been done to her and for all the things to come. I cry and I thank her for being so strong and putting up with so much; asking her to hold on for just a little while longer and promising her that things will get better. I cry and I ask her to forgive me for what I have to do to her because it’s the only option I have left. Because I know it’s the best decision for me, no matter how hard it was to make.

Do I wish I didn’t have to have weight loss surgery? Yes, of course. I wish I was strong and healthy and could honestly say that my weight isn’t negatively impacting my life. But I can’t, not now. I wish I didn’t have to acknowledge the things I’m most shamed by and I could hide it all, pretending to be functional in order to save that single shred of humility I have left. But should I allow that wish to stop me from having weight loss surgery when the alternative is becoming completely bed-ridden? Should I not have surgery simply because I don’t want people to think less of me or to incorrectly assume the motivations behind it? Is it worth it?

A few days ago I had to go to the hospital to see a nutritionist. I needed them to bring a wheelchair to the parking structure because I barely made it from my car to the elevator before my legs nearly gave out and I couldn’t breathe. I almost didn’t do it. I almost turned around and left because I was too embarrassed to say that I needed a wheelchair. It was crossing a line I didn’t ever want to cross. But I did it. Because practicality finally won out over pride. And, ultimately, that’s what all of this has been about.

I absolutely believe there are people who weigh 530 pounds and are happy and healthy. I’d never be so myopic as to claim my experience as the norm. I also absolutely still believe that weight loss surgery is dangerous, highly invasive and overly performed…if anything the last 16 months have made me even more critical of the entire industry. I’ll never advocate weight loss surgery or start proselytizing because “it changed/saved/fixed my life and it could do the same for you!” I will never be that asshole.

[edit] Unfunny

I'm an FA, and even I don't find this funny. Bigbootyking 12:03, 31 December 2007 (CST)