FAT AND HAPPY
Author's note:
Thanks to cvmawirenut for editing.
This is a flash story I hope you enjoy.
Yes, I, Mark, Marcus Lee Griffin, love fat women. Screw the politically correct 'big-boned,' Rubenesque,' or even 'pleasantly plump.' I know exactly where my romantic leanings come from -- my mother, and, no you pervert, I never fucked my mother. I did, however, love her tremendously, rest her soul. My mother was and still is the most wonderful person I have ever met.
Mother was tall, maybe 5' 11" tall and weighed close to 300 pounds. Her face was beautiful, and her breasts and rear were huge. Sort of a super-inflated Barbie without a wasp waist. My Dad was handsome and tall but was of normal weight for his height due in large part to his work in construction and an aversion to drinking alcohol of any kind. I never found out why he didn't drink, but I was glad that preference wasn't genetically passed on to me.
One day Dad announced that he had found a skinnier girl to love and left my Mom with me and my two sisters. I never saw my mother grieve at his leaving. She immediately reorganized chores in the home based on one less person living there. I got most of dad's chores, but my sisters had to take on some of mine. It was very tough financially although my father paid child support, usually. Mom took a lunch waitressing job to augment her third shift factory job. She was a seamstress at a sewing factory that made jeans.
Single mom, two jobs, two teenagers and one preteen = a formula for kids to go wild. Didn't happen. Our mother was home for breakfast and getting us off to school and was home when school was out. Homework came first and then we ate while she got ready to work. We wondered when she ever slept. Weekends were for the bigger chores, family fun time, and Mom's nap time. We wore out several board games over the years. TV watching was a luxury and only consisted of four non-cable channels: ABC. NBC, CBS and PBS.
One myth about fat people is that they are usually 'jolly.' The phrase 'fat and happy' also comes to mind. In my mother's case, however, it was true. How she kept a positive attitude with all that was on her plate is beyond me. I can still remember her laugh. If she ever started laughing, that would start or extend the laughing of those around her. Soon, we would be laughing like her mirth was instantly contagious. I'm ashamed to admit that I enjoyed seeing the rolls of fat jiggling up and down like a bowl of gelatin. That sight often kept my laughter going.
At least, all of the children were adults when she died from complications of her diabetes. She was proud of all of us and we all felt a profound loss in our lives. My sisters took opposite approaches to being overweight themselves. My oldest sister did not worry about it nor did it seem to bother her husband who was big himself. My youngest sister went the severe diet route. She even had to have therapy when she was diagnosed with anorexia. Her weight got down so low she has suffered long-term ill effects. She gained some weight after the therapy but, in my opinion, still looks too much like a picture of the survivors of concentration camps.
Football and weightlifting had me molding my large body into something useful rather than ponderous. I wound up at six foot six, 275-pound defensive end and have stayed close to that weight ever since. I played football in college at Purdue, but I was more interested in the computer engineering degree. I was drafted in the latter rounds of the NFL draft, but chose to go to work.
Throughout high school and college, I almost exclusively dated large women. A number of slender girls approached me, but I didn't feel any attraction. Several of the fat girls were eager to bed me. I'm afraid they thought they would not get many dates and I was their best hope to have sex. In some cases, it was probably true. I have several one date -- one fuck stories I could tell. But I won't.
In college, I hung out with a group that included several large coeds, two of whom I dated off and on. There was one other overweight but pretty girl, Izzy (short for Isabella), who was always telling either fat jokes on herself or fat people in general. She seemed to think anything she said was okay if someone laughed. I was not impressed and, apparently, she noticed.
We were celebrating a Purdue football win one night. A lot of booze was ingested, and Izzy had more than her share. Towards the end of our celebration, an obviously tipsy Izzy came over to me when I was standing by myself. "Mark, how come you've never asked me on a date? You date the other fat girls. We need to go out. I guarantee you I will rock your world in bed."
I had had enough to drink that I didn't mind being brutally honest. "The reason I haven't asked you on a date is a matter of respect. I can't respect a woman who doesn't respect herself. Your self-deprecating comments about your weight turns me off. You are a beautiful, intelligent FAT woman. You should embrace it. You should not be ashamed of your size. If you start treating yourself better, I might consider asking you for a date. But if you just want to fuck, that's another matter entirely. We can go to bed right now. I don't have to have respect for a beautiful woman in order to fuck her."
I must have struck a chord. Izzy looked pissed. "I wouldn't fuck you with . . . with, oh, I don't' know. I just wouldn't fuck you ever." With that she threw the rest of her drink into my face.
I licked some of the drink off my face and remarked, "Try ginger ale as a mixer next time instead of a regular soda." Izzy stomped off.
In the next few weeks, Izzy was unusually quiet while in our group. I think I saw several times where she was about to say something but seemed to restrain herself. Her change led me to resist deliberate poking her for her typical snide comment. I wondered how long this change in her social interactions would last. I kept watching for her to change back.
As the group was breaking up one day, Izzy came over to me and asked if I was busy. My mind raised a red flag, and I was about to come up with some bogus appointment excuse. Instead, I was honest. "I don't have special plans. What do you have in mind?"
"Could we go get some coffee? I would like to talk to you about something."
She seemed sincere and scared at the same time. I stopped myself from saying something sarcastic. "Grounds and Stuff okay?"
We sat down each with a coffee in our hands. Izzy seemed reluctant to speak. I threatened to leave. She put her hand on mine and said, "This is hard for me, Mark. Please give me chance. I need to apologize to you which is something I am not used to doing.
"Mark, you were right about me. I thought I had to make a joke about being fat so people couldn't see how hurt I was with what I saw in the mirror. I see what type of women men are attracted to: small waists, big boobs and ass. I couldn't believe that a handsome man like you actually were attracted to large women. You have no idea how jealous I was whenever you went out with Angela or Shirley. I wanted to be them so badly.
"Your words cut me deeply, but I needed the pain to help me take an objective look at how I viewed my appearance and my interactions with others. You were right. I needed an attitude reboot. I hope you have seen a difference in me lately and have liked it. I still have a lot of improving to do, but I need help. Would you be willing to help me?"
"What did you have in mind?"
