does she even have enuf body fat to menstruate?

norma jean …

 

 

 

aka marilyn.
a goddess.
a bombshell in her time.
and …
a size 14.
by today’s standards
that’s considered fat
for a bombshell beauty.

60 years of bikini

60 years ago louis reard, a french engineer operating his mother’s lingerie store, named the 2-pieced bathing suit he designed after the site of an american A-bomb testing in the south pacific – the bikini atoll.

a hit on the french riveria, the bathing suit named after an uninhabited coral island got a cold reception in north america, which largely banned it from its beaches. now, one only need go to any beach in america to see some of the most extreme variations of monsieur reard’s creation. how times change human society.

the bikini seems most daring though, for the time, doesn’t it? just think … a swimming suit very much resembling women’s underwear. a revolutionary item of clothing, propelling women out of that sexually repressive victorian era, in which societal norms regarded displays of raw skin as evil, and women that showed their bodies as sluts.

today’s technology means that the media’s mutated messages regarding body image can get to us all easier, quicker, cheaper. and they bombard us. and we take it. cosmopolitan. vogue. hollywood. all icons. symbolising the “commodification” of the feminine form. raw skin sells.

bus stop girl

she asked me if i had change for a $5. i didn’t. we were waiting for the bus. while she counted her change i discretely fished thru my purse to see if i had any bus tickets left in my wallet. when i offered her the ticket, she had such a look of beauty and grace. a lovely smile, and sparkling eyes that told me she felt touched by my small gesture.

she wore a loose black blouse and a long and full-cut demin skirt. and, flip flops on her feet. her hair, a silky dark brown, poker straight, hung,  on her shoulders i could tell she had tried to conceal her large and lovely body with clothes. but her roundness, her corpulence, shone thru. her elbows looked like dimples – the sign of a perfectly fat girl. i wanted to say … wanted to say … so much more than i did.

but i wondered. would she? could she? i longed to touch her. caress her curves and folds gently. slowly undress her. tease her plump nipples with my tongue. watching her blossom with orgasmic pleasure. i’m sure i will see her again – she lives in a neighbouring building. i wonder — what will i do then?

that fat girl from work

that fat girl. who is she? she’s a girl from work. and she’s fat. like, she’s obese. like, i’m sure she weighs over 300 pounds. and i fantasize of her. of her wide hips. and their soft padding. ample. round. plump. a nice big bum. soft. dimpled with cellulite. soft lumpy thighs that rub together when she walks. her belly. soft folds. creases. slightly sagging. her breasts. young. succulent. large. perky. her dark silky hair. shoulder length. i imagine how it looks when she wears it down. and her lovely round face. cheeks full. a sagging chin.

i have this urge to lay her naked body on a chaise lounge, then take her picture. a lovely serene and soft nude pose. i fantasize of playing with her. fucking her. with a funky glass dildo. slowly. gently. and i’d watch her cum. and pleasure her some more. with my head pressed between her thighs, perhaps. i fantasize of feeding her. of stuffing her. of burying myself in her lovely large body.

i fantasize. fantasize. of that fat girl.