Do Big Girls Have a Right to Orgasm?

Wednesday 30 December 202005:00 pm
إقرأ باللغة العربية:

كأن لا حقّ لي في الأورغازم كفتاة بدينة

Would it be better if we turned off the lights? Perhaps he - my partner - imagines a woman slimmer than me - if this is what he wishes for. Perhaps it is me who imagines I am slimmer; is this what I wish for?

I had to choose a sexual position that does not show any belly fat. Making eye contact with a partner during lovemaking is no longer an option, since eyes can sometimes get easily distracted by those kilograms that separate us. I wonder, are they gazes of contemplation or aversion on his part?

I give him my back to avoid these looks. Those lumpy layers of extra back weight are not very sexy or attractive either, but at least the situation can be circumvented by sprawling and stretching like a cat, until those layers of fat sufficiently extend in order for the back to appear acceptable and normal enough for the few moments of sex full of distracting thoughts.

It is as if an obese girl has no right to orgasm, as if she is afraid that this climax will make her lose control of a body whose flaws will be visible to the partner during that intimate moment

Perhaps all these thoughts are mere illusions floating around in my mind. Maybe my sexual partner doesn't really care that I am - as the beautified American term dubs - a "Big Girl". Even so, this does not silence the voice that yells louder in my mind and carries the echo of the voices of the many descriptions my body has been branded with throughout years and years of bullying.

This voice continues to intensify, turning into an invisible barrier between me and sexual pleasure. It is as if an obese girl has no right to "orgasm"; as if she is afraid that this climax will make her lose control of a body whose "flaws" may appear in front of her partner during that intimate moment.

My abilities to practice the art of seduction precisely resembles the abilities of a monkey to drive a car. It does not know how to use the machine or how to drive it to get him to his destination. - And in my case - it is the hearts of men and their admiration, as well as my experience in choosing undergarments and "lingerie" for the longest time, that remained as weak skills that could only be described as sad.

It was as if there was a refusal within me to deal with this body, or even try to beautify it. All I wanted was to be slim and skinny, but always ending up with unsuccessful attempts. This made me view healthy diets as if they are monsters knocking on my door, intending to eat my food instead of me, and leave me to die in starvation. Between the desire to lose weight and the refusal to deal with my overweight body, I lived in elective isolation. So how can this body, without a sensual or sexy essence, lead a healthy sexual life and reach orgasm?

Between the desire to lose weight and the refusal to deal with my overweight body, I lived in elective isolation. So how can this body, without a sensual or sexy essence, lead a healthy sexual life and reach orgasm?

“Why don't you dance for me?”; “Are you no longer thinking of sex?”; and many other questions I see in my partner's eyes, even if I don't specifically hear them coming out of his mouth. Even if he accepts me as I am, with all my extra weight, and finds me sexy and attractive despite everything, how can I accept my body following years of the world telling me that big heavy girls are not attractive. How do I find myself attractive despite the kilograms that weigh me down? This is the real question that should be asked.

I suffered from an inner psychological struggle for many years, a journey of shy, silent self-suffering with a body I had always thought was not created for sex or love. This struggle has always left me sexually and emotionally exhausted and frustrated.

Me feeling that I had to change my appearance in order to get the pleasure I wanted would further escalate my internal conflict between the desire for unconditional love, coming back to reality far from any romantic dreams, and thinking rationally about the need for a woman’s appearance to be attractive and glamorous in front of her partner. It was a trap I lived prey to its clutches for many years. It would feed daily on my energy, leaving nothing left for work, ambition or dreams. Strangely enough, all these thoughts would throw me headfirst into food instead of further away from it in order to seek a man; as if food became a safe haven for me; as if it had become my life partner that never objects to how I look.

However, this situation has changed over the past year. This is not some inspiring tale of personal growth and self-realization. Quite the opposite, despite listening to plenty of stimulating talk about self-love and accepting one’s self as it is, and the importance of loving yourself so that others love you, I honestly failed to accept my excess weight. This sexual and emotional frustration caused an increase in the chronic anxiety that I have been experiencing since childhood. It so happened that a psychiatrist prescribed for me a two-week course of medication, and I noticed that one of its side effects was a complete lack of sex drive.

Therefore - without consulting the doctor - I took this drug for five months, during which I forgot that I even had a body in the first place, and felt that sexual desire was just a burden I had gotten rid of. I did not visit a beauty center for months, I did not look in the mirror, and I spent all this time in complete isolation reading and sometimes coloring, as well as, of course, eating. It had literally become the only physical pleasure I would opt for. I was plagued with a sort of sexual abstinence that I had never experienced before in my life.

I did not visit a beauty center for months, I did not look in the mirror, and I spent all this time in complete isolation reading and sometimes coloring, as well as, of course, eating. It had literally become the only physical pleasure I would opt for.

The fact of the matter is that this drug and its continued use for that long a period was messing with my hormones and destroying them. Even when my period was cut off for four months, I did not care. Then came the moment when I looked in the mirror to discover that my weight had further increased, and that I turned into another person, and I did not go to the gynecologist until the constant urging of my mother prompted me to.

Despite listening to talks about the importance of loving yourself so others love you, I honestly failed to accept my excess weight. The sexual and emotional frustration increased the chronic anxiety that I've been experiencing since childhood

While the milk hormone must have a normal average of 5 in a woman's blood, the hormone level in my blood was 150, due to the drug I was taking - just happy it was killing my sex drive. It turned my body into that of a woman who had just given birth. So much so that my breasts were producing milk during the exact moment my doctor told me that the increase in the milk hormone was due to the drug and stress I was under. I realized the enormity of what I had done to my body; realized that I hated it so much that I began to harm it. The shock came down hard on me, especially after the doctor told me that I needed a full course of hormones for my body to return to normal again. One question kept repeating in my mind: “Did I do this to myself just to be free from sexual desire?” Why did I deal with it as a heavy burden to this degree? Why did I hate myself so much?

I write this article to you while I am taking Prozac for depression. The doctor prescribed it to me fearing that I will consider harming myself this way again, while I follow the intermittent fasting diet. That period is not considered the period of self-love or acceptance that many people talk about. I consider that period in my life a period of apology to my body, for its importance and value was limited only to having sex, and my conviction dictated that ‘if it is not worth sex then it is not worth life and health. This is what made me take care of myself again, not because of the clichés we hear daily - that I have always made fun of - to “accept yourself as you are”. But now, my self-interest carries with it a great deal of guilt and a strong desire to apologize to this body, which at the beginning, I had deprived of orgasm and love, and in the end, was about to deprive it of life itself.


** The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author’s and do not necessarily reflect the views of Raseef22

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