Why I Left My Fat Wife
#41
I also think you guys are missing the point.
The original article was written and distributed to several women's magazines. The profound difference being the substitution of Beta Male with its female equivalent, the Fat Female, and how it dramatically points out the callousness of the original Marie Claire article.
The original article was written and distributed to several women's magazines. The profound difference being the substitution of Beta Male with its female equivalent, the Fat Female, and how it dramatically points out the callousness of the original Marie Claire article.
#43
Team Owner
It's not a matter of being "cute". If all you're after in a woman is a hot piece of tail that doesn't want to marry you either, then well you really don't understand what Ken's saying because he's coming from a perspective that you simply don't have.
#44
I take it no one read the Marie Claire article and was bothered by it. Which highlights my point even further.
#46
What Would Don Draper Do?
reading the beta male article now.
Why I Left My Beta Husband
A few years ago, my husband, Mark, and I were at one of those hip downtown restaurants sipping mojitos and nibbling on lime-spiked seviche when one of my bosses appeared from a cloud of Cuban-cigar smoke and patted my shoulder. When I introduced him to Mark, he naturally asked what he did for a living. We both froze.
"I do some freelancing," Mark said.
"He studied film at NYU," I said at the same time.
Mark looked at me and shrugged. "I stay home with our daughter," he said, as my colleague quietly balked.
"He makes it possible for me to do my job," I said, laughing. But inside, I was mortified. Technically, I had it all back then, including a gorgeous toddler and a cool job.
What I didn't have was a husband I felt proud of.
God knows I wanted to be proud of him. Mark is smart and funny and the only person I know who gets off on explaining why the Sherlock Holmes tales are more colonialist than patriarchal. And if you asked me about somebody else's stay-at-home husband, I'd be all over the subject, spouting statistics about how important the father-daughter bond is to girls' self-esteem and how limiting it is to expect women to mind the home front. But living it was completely different.
Maybe it's because the plan wasn't for Mark to be a stay-at-home dad. I went to work when he started graduate school, thinking that I'd head back for my own Ph.D. once he was done. I envisioned us as hard-core academics, reading passages from Joyce to each other while I put together a fancy dinner of organic rutabaga soup with apple crème fraîche swirls on top. Instead, I fell in love with my first job at a small food magazine, and eventually, after a few promotions, I found myself working as a staff writer for a national women's magazine.
Things went less smoothly for Mark. By the time we found out I was pregnant-three years into our marriage-he'd been looking for a job teaching film for six months with no luck. Then he began applying for any old job, but nothing panned out. Still, the minute my pregnancy test flashed its double pink lines at me, I knew I needed to put my career on hold.
I stayed home with our daughter for six months after she was born while Mark continued, yes, looking for a job. In 18 months, he got just two calls. Meanwhile, I was being pursued by headhunters. Eventually, I took an editing job at a health magazine.
I felt like myself again-pitching ideas, doing the witty-banter thing in the halls with my colleagues. But my marriage started to fall apart. I felt guilty about being glad to go back to work, and in my head, I made it Mark's fault. Because he couldn't find a job, I blamed him when I was working late and had to miss the baby's bedtime; it was his fault I had to go in early every day, since the fact that he couldn't find a job meant that I couldn't afford to lose mine.And when I got home, I seethed. I couldn't walk across the living room without tripping over some plastic toy or container of wipes. The baby was in the same little nightgown she'd slept in the night before. There wasn't a hint of dinner on the horizon. He was home all day-couldn't he at least run a freaking load of laundry?
Eventually, communication between Mark and me deteriorated to the point where all we talked about was the baby. Had she gotten enough sleep? What had she eaten for lunch? How could she have run through an entire value pack of diapers in one weekend? "Wait till I tell you what she did," he'd say every once in a while, as we gazed adoringly at the baby and at each other. In those moments- watching him gently rock her to sleep while singing "Punk Rock Girl"-I was reminded why I had once thought Mark was the sexiest man in the world.But our sex life was in ruins. I chalked it up to the transition period all new parents go through. Then one day, I realized it had been almost a year since Mark and I had made love.
Sometimes he'd say, "I really think things would be better for us if we could just be intimate again." Or he'd put the baby to bed early and come into the living room with two glasses of wine and a book of poetry-our classic recipe for seduction-but just the thought of him touching me made me recoil. "Maybe I'm just not a sexual person anymore," I told him, and I honestly meant it.The truth is, I wasn't attracted to him anymore. It wasn't that he'd changed-he still had the same floppy brown hair, bright green eyes, and long freckled limbs that had literally made me quiver when I first met him. But in my head, I'd neutralized him as a sexual being. I wanted to be overwhelmed by the sheer power of his masculinity in the bedroom, but I wasn't. Because I felt like the man in our relationship.
We went to see a therapist. "Don't you think I resent you for how easy it is for you?" Mark asked me during one session. "You have this great job, and I'm home like a slave, running errands, taking care of your shit, and you can't even spare me five minutes of conversation at the end of the day." I think it was the first time I'd actually listened to what he had to say in years. He said that he was angry with me for always putting work first and angry with himself for not being able to find a job. He said he didn't appreciate being treated like a nanny-slash-housekeeper- slash-gardener. But what alternatives was he offering?We separated a few months later.
In retrospect, I realized I had this preconceived idea of what a sexy, attractive man should be like. I imagined being married to, well, someone like me. Someone whose job sounds interesting to other people. Someone who walks out the door with a pressed shirt on, a leather briefcase, and a confident gait. Someone who wins bread. Does that make me a sexist? "I always felt embarrassed and guilty-you had all these ambitions for me that I felt like I wasn't living up to," Mark said to me after our divorce.
So nobody was more surprised than I was when I went ahead and fell for another stay-at-home dad.
Here's the difference, though: Jason knows what he wants-and it's not a corner office. He wants to have his afternoons free to hit the park with my daughter or paint or translate the writings of Pablo Neruda. There's nothing thwarted or self-pitying about him. When we're cooking dinner together on Friday nights in a kitchen fragrant with curry, or trying to drink coffee in bed on Sunday mornings while my daughter dances around us, I'm so attracted to him that it's all I can do not to rip his clothes off then and there.
Put it this way: Whether it's me or the fort he's holding, I think it's damn sexy.
A few years ago, my husband, Mark, and I were at one of those hip downtown restaurants sipping mojitos and nibbling on lime-spiked seviche when one of my bosses appeared from a cloud of Cuban-cigar smoke and patted my shoulder. When I introduced him to Mark, he naturally asked what he did for a living. We both froze.
"I do some freelancing," Mark said.
"He studied film at NYU," I said at the same time.
Mark looked at me and shrugged. "I stay home with our daughter," he said, as my colleague quietly balked.
"He makes it possible for me to do my job," I said, laughing. But inside, I was mortified. Technically, I had it all back then, including a gorgeous toddler and a cool job.
What I didn't have was a husband I felt proud of.
God knows I wanted to be proud of him. Mark is smart and funny and the only person I know who gets off on explaining why the Sherlock Holmes tales are more colonialist than patriarchal. And if you asked me about somebody else's stay-at-home husband, I'd be all over the subject, spouting statistics about how important the father-daughter bond is to girls' self-esteem and how limiting it is to expect women to mind the home front. But living it was completely different.
Maybe it's because the plan wasn't for Mark to be a stay-at-home dad. I went to work when he started graduate school, thinking that I'd head back for my own Ph.D. once he was done. I envisioned us as hard-core academics, reading passages from Joyce to each other while I put together a fancy dinner of organic rutabaga soup with apple crème fraîche swirls on top. Instead, I fell in love with my first job at a small food magazine, and eventually, after a few promotions, I found myself working as a staff writer for a national women's magazine.
Things went less smoothly for Mark. By the time we found out I was pregnant-three years into our marriage-he'd been looking for a job teaching film for six months with no luck. Then he began applying for any old job, but nothing panned out. Still, the minute my pregnancy test flashed its double pink lines at me, I knew I needed to put my career on hold.
I stayed home with our daughter for six months after she was born while Mark continued, yes, looking for a job. In 18 months, he got just two calls. Meanwhile, I was being pursued by headhunters. Eventually, I took an editing job at a health magazine.
I felt like myself again-pitching ideas, doing the witty-banter thing in the halls with my colleagues. But my marriage started to fall apart. I felt guilty about being glad to go back to work, and in my head, I made it Mark's fault. Because he couldn't find a job, I blamed him when I was working late and had to miss the baby's bedtime; it was his fault I had to go in early every day, since the fact that he couldn't find a job meant that I couldn't afford to lose mine.And when I got home, I seethed. I couldn't walk across the living room without tripping over some plastic toy or container of wipes. The baby was in the same little nightgown she'd slept in the night before. There wasn't a hint of dinner on the horizon. He was home all day-couldn't he at least run a freaking load of laundry?
Eventually, communication between Mark and me deteriorated to the point where all we talked about was the baby. Had she gotten enough sleep? What had she eaten for lunch? How could she have run through an entire value pack of diapers in one weekend? "Wait till I tell you what she did," he'd say every once in a while, as we gazed adoringly at the baby and at each other. In those moments- watching him gently rock her to sleep while singing "Punk Rock Girl"-I was reminded why I had once thought Mark was the sexiest man in the world.But our sex life was in ruins. I chalked it up to the transition period all new parents go through. Then one day, I realized it had been almost a year since Mark and I had made love.
Sometimes he'd say, "I really think things would be better for us if we could just be intimate again." Or he'd put the baby to bed early and come into the living room with two glasses of wine and a book of poetry-our classic recipe for seduction-but just the thought of him touching me made me recoil. "Maybe I'm just not a sexual person anymore," I told him, and I honestly meant it.The truth is, I wasn't attracted to him anymore. It wasn't that he'd changed-he still had the same floppy brown hair, bright green eyes, and long freckled limbs that had literally made me quiver when I first met him. But in my head, I'd neutralized him as a sexual being. I wanted to be overwhelmed by the sheer power of his masculinity in the bedroom, but I wasn't. Because I felt like the man in our relationship.
We went to see a therapist. "Don't you think I resent you for how easy it is for you?" Mark asked me during one session. "You have this great job, and I'm home like a slave, running errands, taking care of your shit, and you can't even spare me five minutes of conversation at the end of the day." I think it was the first time I'd actually listened to what he had to say in years. He said that he was angry with me for always putting work first and angry with himself for not being able to find a job. He said he didn't appreciate being treated like a nanny-slash-housekeeper- slash-gardener. But what alternatives was he offering?We separated a few months later.
In retrospect, I realized I had this preconceived idea of what a sexy, attractive man should be like. I imagined being married to, well, someone like me. Someone whose job sounds interesting to other people. Someone who walks out the door with a pressed shirt on, a leather briefcase, and a confident gait. Someone who wins bread. Does that make me a sexist? "I always felt embarrassed and guilty-you had all these ambitions for me that I felt like I wasn't living up to," Mark said to me after our divorce.
So nobody was more surprised than I was when I went ahead and fell for another stay-at-home dad.
Here's the difference, though: Jason knows what he wants-and it's not a corner office. He wants to have his afternoons free to hit the park with my daughter or paint or translate the writings of Pablo Neruda. There's nothing thwarted or self-pitying about him. When we're cooking dinner together on Friday nights in a kitchen fragrant with curry, or trying to drink coffee in bed on Sunday mornings while my daughter dances around us, I'm so attracted to him that it's all I can do not to rip his clothes off then and there.
Put it this way: Whether it's me or the fort he's holding, I think it's damn sexy.
#47
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Most women put up with having obese husbands, but men can't put up with having obese wives. Most times women are big is because they are depressed. I think divorce is an extreme reaction to the displeasure in our spouses. I completely agree with you that it's hard to make love with someone who's huge, but we should help support them to lose weight.
Oh, I'm sure...
Here's a funny article about the improtance of having an obese wife:
The Importance of Having an Obese Wife
There are few women that are as useful as an obese wife. She is more useful than the legendary sacred cow. It is true that she does not pull a plow or supply gallons of milk but she has many other assets. Obese wives are known as the work horse of the family. She will work until she is
totally exhausted. Without her the foundation of the family would be weakened. The kitchen is her main domain where she is in charge of serving the household. Even if she eats half the food in the refrigerator she is highly valued as the cook. Because of her enormous appetite she is forced to spend much of her time on the toilet bowl. Her desire to serve is unmatchable. She will perform any task that is possible for her family and never complain. She is extremely unattractive so no normal man will desire her; because of this her husband is assured of her loyalty. New clothing or cosmetics are the last thing on the mind of a very heavy wife. She has accepted her bulky body and will never make any attempt to beautify it. Her husband doesn't have to spend any money wining and dining her because she is not interested in being seen in public. The only time she will leave the house is to go food shopping or fix the garden. The costs of keeping her are next to nothing since she desires only food
.
There are few women that are as useful as an obese wife. She is more useful than the legendary sacred cow. It is true that she does not pull a plow or supply gallons of milk but she has many other assets. Obese wives are known as the work horse of the family. She will work until she is
totally exhausted. Without her the foundation of the family would be weakened. The kitchen is her main domain where she is in charge of serving the household. Even if she eats half the food in the refrigerator she is highly valued as the cook. Because of her enormous appetite she is forced to spend much of her time on the toilet bowl. Her desire to serve is unmatchable. She will perform any task that is possible for her family and never complain. She is extremely unattractive so no normal man will desire her; because of this her husband is assured of her loyalty. New clothing or cosmetics are the last thing on the mind of a very heavy wife. She has accepted her bulky body and will never make any attempt to beautify it. Her husband doesn't have to spend any money wining and dining her because she is not interested in being seen in public. The only time she will leave the house is to go food shopping or fix the garden. The costs of keeping her are next to nothing since she desires only food
.
#49
What Would Don Draper Do?
so the wifey in the beta male article was turned off from her stay-at-home husband, and after separation, she ended up falling in love with (surprise!) another stay-at-home husband. but this time, he was confident in himself and wasn't a self-pity act. and she was attracted by that.
the husband in the fat wife article was turned off from his fat stay-at-home wife. after separation, he ends up falling in love with (surprise!) a hottie. and he was attracted by that.
the husband in the fat wife article was turned off from his fat stay-at-home wife. after separation, he ends up falling in love with (surprise!) a hottie. and he was attracted by that.
#51
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BTW I'm just going with what the article is saying, not any sort of condemnation of anyone here.
#52
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I also think you guys are missing the point.
The original article was written and distributed to several women's magazines. The profound difference being the substitution of Beta Male with its female equivalent, the Fat Female, and how it dramatically points out the callousness of the original Marie Claire article.
The original article was written and distributed to several women's magazines. The profound difference being the substitution of Beta Male with its female equivalent, the Fat Female, and how it dramatically points out the callousness of the original Marie Claire article.
#53
Team Owner
I take it no one read the Marie Claire article and was bothered by it. Which highlights my point even further.
#54
Go Giants
You're a good man whiskers.
My wife was pretty thin when we married. She had two kids and that took a toll on her shape. She's been exercising and has lost weight the past few years.
We've had our difficulties over the years, but they haven't been related to weight (hers or mine).
My wife was pretty thin when we married. She had two kids and that took a toll on her shape. She's been exercising and has lost weight the past few years.
We've had our difficulties over the years, but they haven't been related to weight (hers or mine).
#56
Go Giants
#57
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
My thinking on marrying a fat woman is the same on marrying an ugly woman. When do you get to the point of discovering the inner beauty? When you first see her across the room? If these are not people that you KNOW beforehand, I can't see how you get to the "good part" before you are scared away by the sight of her.
Women are more emotionally drawn to men, than the reverse. So a woman can get into deep conversation with a guy who is less than "aesthetic to the eyes" than most, and feel blessed to know his redeemable qualities. Men are more likely to look for eye-candy at the bar, and then settle for subpar after one too many, rather than pick out a fat chick and see if she has "redeemable qualities".
THE EXCEPTION: If you already know someone and they become obese on your watch (relationship), then the attraction from "within" mentioned here has been woven into the fabric of the relationship and is therefore a valuable component of it. So yes, she is your soulmate and you don't leave her for the Olsen twins...
But without any history, from 0-60...I don't believe anyone here is hunting any Orcas with the thought in mind of finding one with 'redeemable qualities" unless you are her mirror or you just like chunky but funky! (Though I do admit 600K does make a motherfucker wanna suck it up and just slingshot her ass Ho-Hos to keep her beaming and the green backs streaming)...Some people just jump on the feel good story and ride that shit into the ground in here...fat chicks are out and I don't give a damn if they turn water into wine or piss into Mountain Dew. But don't get me wrong, if your story fits the aforementioned exception like Whiskers does...then yeah, hang in there...anything less is uncivilized...
Women are more emotionally drawn to men, than the reverse. So a woman can get into deep conversation with a guy who is less than "aesthetic to the eyes" than most, and feel blessed to know his redeemable qualities. Men are more likely to look for eye-candy at the bar, and then settle for subpar after one too many, rather than pick out a fat chick and see if she has "redeemable qualities".
THE EXCEPTION: If you already know someone and they become obese on your watch (relationship), then the attraction from "within" mentioned here has been woven into the fabric of the relationship and is therefore a valuable component of it. So yes, she is your soulmate and you don't leave her for the Olsen twins...
But without any history, from 0-60...I don't believe anyone here is hunting any Orcas with the thought in mind of finding one with 'redeemable qualities" unless you are her mirror or you just like chunky but funky! (Though I do admit 600K does make a motherfucker wanna suck it up and just slingshot her ass Ho-Hos to keep her beaming and the green backs streaming)...Some people just jump on the feel good story and ride that shit into the ground in here...fat chicks are out and I don't give a damn if they turn water into wine or piss into Mountain Dew. But don't get me wrong, if your story fits the aforementioned exception like Whiskers does...then yeah, hang in there...anything less is uncivilized...
#58
I think this is the first time ever I've seen a serious Whiskers post.
Subscribed
Subscribed
#59
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
Oh yeah, and fuck that bitch in the Beta article...thats the kind of broad that I love to make my sex slave, rape her coffers, and leave her mad ass wondering where that black motherfucker went...
Those are the purse first and ass last bitches...
Those are the purse first and ass last bitches...
#60
Go Giants
My thinking on marrying a fat woman is the same on marrying an ugly woman. When do you get to the point of discovering the inner beauty? When you first see her across the room? If these are not people that you KNOW beforehand, I can't see how you get to the "good part" before you are scared away by the sight of her.
Women are more emotionally drawn to men, than the reverse. So a woman can get into deep conversation with a guy who is less than "aesthetic to the eyes" than most, and feel blessed to know his redeemable qualities. Men are more likely to look for eye-candy at the bar, and then settle for subpar after one too many, rather than pick out a fat chick and see if she has "redeemable qualities".
THE EXCEPTION: If you already know someone and they become obese on your watch (relationship), then the attraction from "within" mentioned here has been woven into the fabric of the relationship and is therefore a valuable component of it. So yes, she is your soulmate and you don't leave her for the Olsen twins...
But without any history, from 0-60...I don't believe anyone here is hunting any Orcas with the thought in mind of finding one with 'redeemable qualities" unless you are her mirror or you just like chunky but funky! (Though I do admit 600K does make a motherfucker wanna suck it up and just slingshot her ass Ho-Hos to keep her beaming and the green backs streaming)...Some people just jump on the feel good story and ride that shit into the ground in here...fat chicks are out and I don't give a damn if they turn water into wine or piss into Mountain Dew. But don't get me wrong, if your story fits the aforementioned exception like Whiskers does...then yeah, hang in there...anything less is uncivilized...
Women are more emotionally drawn to men, than the reverse. So a woman can get into deep conversation with a guy who is less than "aesthetic to the eyes" than most, and feel blessed to know his redeemable qualities. Men are more likely to look for eye-candy at the bar, and then settle for subpar after one too many, rather than pick out a fat chick and see if she has "redeemable qualities".
THE EXCEPTION: If you already know someone and they become obese on your watch (relationship), then the attraction from "within" mentioned here has been woven into the fabric of the relationship and is therefore a valuable component of it. So yes, she is your soulmate and you don't leave her for the Olsen twins...
But without any history, from 0-60...I don't believe anyone here is hunting any Orcas with the thought in mind of finding one with 'redeemable qualities" unless you are her mirror or you just like chunky but funky! (Though I do admit 600K does make a motherfucker wanna suck it up and just slingshot her ass Ho-Hos to keep her beaming and the green backs streaming)...Some people just jump on the feel good story and ride that shit into the ground in here...fat chicks are out and I don't give a damn if they turn water into wine or piss into Mountain Dew. But don't get me wrong, if your story fits the aforementioned exception like Whiskers does...then yeah, hang in there...anything less is uncivilized...
If your second paragraph is saying that women are less shallow then men, then I agree with that.
As far as the exception...I am sure that marriages and relationships have ended because on person (man or woman) let themself go in some way (weight or otherwise). If you truely love someone, that won't be the case.
Maybe I do like chunky but funky.
#61
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
I would be inclined to agree, because at the very least you may want to befriend one if she has personality. Ugly will be ugly on Thursday night, and scare the shit out of you on Friday morning...
#62
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On another note I love onion:
_______________________________
My Morbidly Obese Wife Said The Most Interesting Thing The Other Day
BY HOWARD GUZMAN
JULY 30, 2008
After 23 years of marriage, you'd think there would be nothing in the world my morbidly obese wife could do to surprise me anymore. You'd say, "Howard, I bet you know just about everything there is to know about that massive woman of yours." But I guess I still have a lot to learn, because yesterday morning my wife, who is quite fat, turns her head to me and says, "They should do a game show hosted by that father from Growing Pains."
Just like that!
I just laughed and thought to myself, "That's my 450-pound wife for you—always full of surprises!" It's times like these, when she catches me off guard with an insightful comment, that I remember why I married her in the first place. My Kate is truly one of the sweetest, fattest, smartest people I know. She's not only my enormous wife—she's my enormous best friend.
And she's funny, too! Whenever we have guests over at the house, watch out, because my unhealthily overweight wife keeps everyone on their toes with her trademark wit! Like three years ago on my birthday, she gave me this card that had an old man on the front with only four teeth in his mouth, and on the inside it said "Happy Four-Teeth-ith Birthday!" Kate was already giggling before I walked over to her couch-bed to grab the card from between her pudgy, bloated sausage-fingers, so of course I knew something was up. Sure enough, another Kate classic! Boy, my dirigible-sized wife sure knows how to make me laugh.
It's so important to marry someone you can talk to. Over the course of any relationship, you go through lots of ups and downs. On the good days, you're traveling around and going to dinner parties and everyone's still able to fit through standard doorways, but other days are harder, and you've got to be able to cheer each other up when things get tough and you can no longer share a bed in any real sense of the term. But no matter how bad things get, I can always rely on good old immobile-flesh-mound Kate to make me smile.
God, I'm so lucky to have such a fat interesting fat wife.
She really is one of a kind, my Kate. Whenever I see her reading books on treating the various skin disorders that result from chronic obesity or just drowning in her own sweat, I can tell the wheels in her head are spinning. She never stops thinking! Every day, she's thinking and thinking and eating and widening…growing. It's like every part of her is bigger than the next. She's not even a woman anymore, she's just this—this thing I inject insulin into while it consumes stacks of honey-glazed ham like a thresher and says the most adorable things when it isn't wheezing or choking on its own spit and bile.
I love my wife!
Just yesterday we were watching the news and John McCain started talking about how Barack Obama wants to make gas unaffordable for middle-class Americans, and then my wife kind of swayed her arms back and forth to work up the momentum to shift her body in my direction, and as the bulk of what was once her left breast toppled down her expansive upper belly and under her right arm, she said, "Gas is already unaffordable for most middle-class Americans." And wouldn't you know it, as soon as it was his turn to speak, I'll be damned if Obama didn't say almost the same thing!
I swear, if she'd been upright and wasn't being strangled by her own neck flab, I could have kissed her.
I don't mean to go on and on bragging about my amazing wife who's killing herself with food, so I'll just tell you one more vintage Kate story. It's a doozy. See, back in college, my then-not- unspeakably-obese wife lived in a sorority house that used to throw these wild parties. And one time, Kate had a few too many and—well, there was this bra hanging from a ceiling fan and—or was it the staircase? Darn it, she was just telling me yesterday in the kitchen. We were talking about her old sorority and college, and she was telling me about this Halloween party they threw and I realized the skin folds of her underarms were no longer symmetrical and then she said….
Oh, you know what, I just don't tell it as well as my heaving sack of a wife does.
____________________________
#64
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
She's not even a woman anymore, she's just this—this thing I inject insulin into while it consumes stacks of honey-glazed ham like a thresher
#66
Drifting
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@ this thread
if you like fat chicks, more power to you. you're making the world a better place...i mean someone has to be with them.
for the rest of us, we'll stick to our shallow ways.
if you like fat chicks, more power to you. you're making the world a better place...i mean someone has to be with them.
for the rest of us, we'll stick to our shallow ways.
#67
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
#69
dumber than a box of hair
If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.
A pretty woman makes her husband look small
And very often causes his downfall.
As soon as he marries her
Then she starts to do
The things that will break his heart.
But if you make an ugly woman your wife,
You'll be happy for the rest of your life,
An ugly woman cooks her meals on time,
She'll always give you peace of mind.
Don't let your friends say
You have no taste,
Go ahead and marry anyway,
Though her face is ugly,
Her eyes don't match,
Take it from me she's a better catch.
Say man.
Hey baby.
Saw your wife the other day.
Yeah?
Yeah, she's ugly.
Yeah, she's ugly but she sure can cook.
Yeah?. Okay.
#70
Team Owner
I think I'll call you "Anna Nicole" from now on.
#71
Burning Brakes
its just genetics...look at any other species, the females always go to the "alpha male" with the best resources...thankfully we are more civilized than that or i'd be screwed, because im po
#72
'10 Hyundai Genesis Coupe
The only thing that kept me motivated enough to keep reading the story was my misconception that the story was about the OP.
I guess I was fooled.
The funny thing about the story is how it can go both ways, if we get fat we're less attractive and our wives end up looking for other younger, attractive men.
I guess I was fooled.
The funny thing about the story is how it can go both ways, if we get fat we're less attractive and our wives end up looking for other younger, attractive men.
#74
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~
In the primate world, the strong survive...just like in the concrete jungle. So if you are weak, you will get weeded out one way or the other...civilized just means she can text message you and laugh at you as opposed to waiting until you get to her table...
#75
Burning Brakes
were that so id definitely be screwed....i'm exceedingly skinny
#76
'10 Hyundai Genesis Coupe
#78
Go Giants
#79
registered pw
Join Date: Aug 2003
Location: south central pa
Age: 49
Posts: 38,821
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252 Posts
she's only 20
i am not in any way attracted to fat chicks. If something happened to mrs. dallison it would never change how i feel towards her mentally or phsically.
I worked with a girl who was a few years younger than me. She is overweight but she carries herself very well and has a very warped sense of humor. Because of the typee of caring hilarious human she is, you don't really notice her weight.
i am not in any way attracted to fat chicks. If something happened to mrs. dallison it would never change how i feel towards her mentally or phsically.
I worked with a girl who was a few years younger than me. She is overweight but she carries herself very well and has a very warped sense of humor. Because of the typee of caring hilarious human she is, you don't really notice her weight.
#80
~Da Nocturnal Cheetah~