The Nooner
The Nooner
Lunch today was a quickly grabbed sandwich at a local shop which offers a wide variety of good stuff, both hot and cold, salads and pizzas. As I went in it seemed much more crowded than usual, but my FA eyes still did their unconscious scan for sign of BBW life.
Today was a surprise, since I so regularly frequent the place that I assumed I knew all the regulars. There, waiting for a sandwich were two gals worthy of a second or third look. The first was a gal with a piercing or two, including one in the eyebrow, which has always caused me to grimace. She was a fairly big girl, probably a ssbbw by most people’s standards, but without any definition or shape that attracted me, which caused my eyes to wander to the other gal.
The other gal had, on my first view from the rear, an enormous derriere shoe-horned into some extremely suffering jeans held up by a thick(probably 2 inch) leather belt with the word love formed at the back. This gal was clearly in the ssbbw category by almost anyone’s standards. It was apparent that as big as the jeans were the gal was bigger yet. A portion of her anatomy not easily divined, was it upper buttock or lower back, swelled tsunami like over that thick belt and the jeans’ top edge in an aggressive roll of blubber encased in a snug, but stretchy top tucked deep into the jeans(otherwise it would have clearly pulled out from the stress of supporting that roll).
Interested in observing more of her curvaceous charms I shifted my position slightly and was rewarded as she also turned slightly to talk with a third girl in her group(a very short and petite gal). As she turned into profile I was shocked to see the prodigal pulchritude of her portly paunch. Within those tortured jeans was a lower belly roll that stretched the jeans out a good six inches afore of her gargantuan thighs which on closer inspection had already begun to stretch the seam along the side of the pants leg encasing her voluminous thighs.
I can only imagine that this woman had owned those jeans from a time when they fit more traditionally and had, over time grown to stretch them to their current shape. The lower belly roll was amazingly wide, ending in a rounded bottom surface which literally stood out over the fronts of her capacious thighs. While this was awesome evidence of the strength of the denim fabric to hold together under the seemingly incredible forces on it to explode outward, the belly above the belt was even more amazing.
Remembering that her soft stretchy top was clearly tucked in to the back of the jeans, it was also tucked in at the front. As the lower belly projected out like a round prow of a proud vessel a good six inches beyond the thighs, the above the belt belly projected outward a good six inches beyond the belt. Unconstrained by the tight, strong denim of the pants the upper belly not only hung outward but also hung down onto the pant encased in the stretchy softness of her blouse as a supersized roll, which can only again be called most positively, blubbery. The upper roll’s thickness was easily a foot from its bottom to its top, with almost a foot of outwardly oriented projection. It spread across the vast width of her front, seemingly maintaining its shape and size all the away from one side to the other.
I always wonder why women of this size, or actually any size would squeeze their bodies into clothing so undermanned in its effort to adequately contain their curves. The wondering usually stops when the lower head kicks in and suggests the upper head get with it. Clearly this woman could easily have filled a pair of pants which had a waistline more than a foot larger than the ones she had on.
For the sake of completeness, the woman’s breasts were ample but not nearly as large proportionately as her lower end. Her face was that of a youngish, early 20’s Latina, attractive, but not gorgeous. I’d estimate that she weighed slightly less than 400 pounds on a 5’7” frame.
As I finally worked my way to the head of the line to pay for my lunch I noticed that she had headed for a pair of bar stools where one can eat by the window looking at the street. So, as I left the shop I had another view of her sitting on the bar stool, her pants screaming in agony at the tension on the seams, her rolls of back fat ringing her back. And, finally, as I turned right on exiting the door, a glance to my right found her attentively eating her lunch while her belly made the distance between plate and mouth a long and precipitious one. When sitting the belly and other rounded parts seemingly stretched the denim’s fabric into even more fantastic shapes and increased volume. Without a further glance I headed back to my office… invigorated by the wonderful five minute interlude in the middle of my day.
Lunch today was a quickly grabbed sandwich at a local shop which offers a wide variety of good stuff, both hot and cold, salads and pizzas. As I went in it seemed much more crowded than usual, but my FA eyes still did their unconscious scan for sign of BBW life.
Today was a surprise, since I so regularly frequent the place that I assumed I knew all the regulars. There, waiting for a sandwich were two gals worthy of a second or third look. The first was a gal with a piercing or two, including one in the eyebrow, which has always caused me to grimace. She was a fairly big girl, probably a ssbbw by most people’s standards, but without any definition or shape that attracted me, which caused my eyes to wander to the other gal.
The other gal had, on my first view from the rear, an enormous derriere shoe-horned into some extremely suffering jeans held up by a thick(probably 2 inch) leather belt with the word love formed at the back. This gal was clearly in the ssbbw category by almost anyone’s standards. It was apparent that as big as the jeans were the gal was bigger yet. A portion of her anatomy not easily divined, was it upper buttock or lower back, swelled tsunami like over that thick belt and the jeans’ top edge in an aggressive roll of blubber encased in a snug, but stretchy top tucked deep into the jeans(otherwise it would have clearly pulled out from the stress of supporting that roll).
Interested in observing more of her curvaceous charms I shifted my position slightly and was rewarded as she also turned slightly to talk with a third girl in her group(a very short and petite gal). As she turned into profile I was shocked to see the prodigal pulchritude of her portly paunch. Within those tortured jeans was a lower belly roll that stretched the jeans out a good six inches afore of her gargantuan thighs which on closer inspection had already begun to stretch the seam along the side of the pants leg encasing her voluminous thighs.
I can only imagine that this woman had owned those jeans from a time when they fit more traditionally and had, over time grown to stretch them to their current shape. The lower belly roll was amazingly wide, ending in a rounded bottom surface which literally stood out over the fronts of her capacious thighs. While this was awesome evidence of the strength of the denim fabric to hold together under the seemingly incredible forces on it to explode outward, the belly above the belt was even more amazing.
Remembering that her soft stretchy top was clearly tucked in to the back of the jeans, it was also tucked in at the front. As the lower belly projected out like a round prow of a proud vessel a good six inches beyond the thighs, the above the belt belly projected outward a good six inches beyond the belt. Unconstrained by the tight, strong denim of the pants the upper belly not only hung outward but also hung down onto the pant encased in the stretchy softness of her blouse as a supersized roll, which can only again be called most positively, blubbery. The upper roll’s thickness was easily a foot from its bottom to its top, with almost a foot of outwardly oriented projection. It spread across the vast width of her front, seemingly maintaining its shape and size all the away from one side to the other.
I always wonder why women of this size, or actually any size would squeeze their bodies into clothing so undermanned in its effort to adequately contain their curves. The wondering usually stops when the lower head kicks in and suggests the upper head get with it. Clearly this woman could easily have filled a pair of pants which had a waistline more than a foot larger than the ones she had on.
For the sake of completeness, the woman’s breasts were ample but not nearly as large proportionately as her lower end. Her face was that of a youngish, early 20’s Latina, attractive, but not gorgeous. I’d estimate that she weighed slightly less than 400 pounds on a 5’7” frame.
As I finally worked my way to the head of the line to pay for my lunch I noticed that she had headed for a pair of bar stools where one can eat by the window looking at the street. So, as I left the shop I had another view of her sitting on the bar stool, her pants screaming in agony at the tension on the seams, her rolls of back fat ringing her back. And, finally, as I turned right on exiting the door, a glance to my right found her attentively eating her lunch while her belly made the distance between plate and mouth a long and precipitious one. When sitting the belly and other rounded parts seemingly stretched the denim’s fabric into even more fantastic shapes and increased volume. Without a further glance I headed back to my office… invigorated by the wonderful five minute interlude in the middle of my day.
posted by hugehugefan at 1:36 PM
5 Comments:
Hi Huge,
Not to start another verbal brawl, (especially so soon after the last one) but ... someone once called me "the queen of metaphors" in regard to my short-story writing. Well, if that's the case, then you, Huge, are the King of the Adjectives, and you certainly aren't to be outdone on metaphors either.
But I'm curious ... some of them have a freakshow, grotesque quality to them. An example from your latest post:
"suffering" and "tortured" jeans ... "tsunami-like" ... "aggressive roll of blubber". I've noticed some similar descriptions in your posts before. I know you are an FA, but these are hardly attractive images. Or are they?
To be fair, there are complimentary descriptions in your post too ... "curvaceous" charms, "proud vessel" ... forgive me, perhaps I am focusing too much on this wordplay but remember, I am an editor, and I can't help but focus on words.
It seems like there is a part of your attraction to supersized women that has a real voyeuristic, freakshow side to it (sorry, there's no other way I can think of to say it). It's almost as if you're a little boy standing at a dock looking up at an ocean liner going, "wow ...."
I mean no offense by these words, please everybody. It's just I find it hard to figure out whether it's genuine attraction or just awe and what seems like a combination of repulsion/attraction.
Hi there Emily! Let the games begin!lol
I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard some of the descriptive words that Huge has used, because I could retire comfortably.
I think that when you are an FA, and a proud one as Huge is, that you really admire FAT, in all shapes, colors and styles. It's funny, when I read his post, I had to giggle, but I'll tell you, I could PICTURE this woman clear as a bell. His gift to those of us that are so enthralled by his prose is one of such deep description, to allow us to see what HE sees. I understand the "freakshow" quality you speak of, but what I don't detect is a demeaning or disrespectful tone to his words. I guess that is where I see the difference. As a fat woman, with "rolls of back fat ringing her back", I'm happy when I see or hear of another woman that has them!
I enjoy the description, because so many men say "well, she was pretty big"....well, so was the Titanic, but that boat had more charm to it than steel and wood! I love the adjectives and I love his usage of words.
Wouldn't he be boring otherwise? :-)
Dear Emily:
I expect nothing less than your best when you respond to a post. This post was really intended to appeal more to the FAs but I think your comment about the freakishness or grotesqueness of some of the language is a fair one. In one sense it was intended to vary the descriptiveness of the language and avoid a repetitiveness of adjectival alliteration and assonance. In another sense the concept of the suffering and tortured jeans was directed not at the person but the clothing.
Many FAs, myself included, find fat women wearing overly snug clothing to be highly erotic and arousing. This language played to that sense of desire. Of course if you'd seen this woman you might have used similar language. By wearing clothing that was so much smaller than necessary to comfortable clothe her very supersized form she put this in play. I ask you to think about how you might like to wear a tight blouse that would more prominently display your ample bosom and consider the language that might be applied to that situation.
I suspect you will find that FAs and fat women who are attracted to FAs will not find this at all unusual. My prose was as purple as usual and the terminology was intended to exaggerate through metaphor the important elements of the clothing. I am sure that if you think back to a very fat woman who you might have thought looked like she was a series of sausage links with rolls of fat created by her overly tight clothing, you will find my metaphors and adjectives appropriate to that memory. The difference is that I and many other FAs actually find this concept to be attractive(not all the time and not when its not appropriate to the situation), in a good way. You don't, and that's fair.
The use of the terminology that you consider to be hardly attractive is, I think you'll find, on the whole extremely attractive to many FAs. The language was tailored to that audience. I solicit any FAs or BBWs or SSBBWs to weigh in on their thoughts on this, perhaps I'm wrong.
I'm pretty confident that you know that I am an adorer of fat women in all sizes of large, moving up the scale from plump to chunky to bbw to ssbbw and xfat. So, you know that my language is never intended to harm, demean or otherwise belittle any fat women or men.
I appreciate your editorial comments, but in most cases I've thought out the tenor of my words and meaning and am usually pretty satisfied with the selection.
I was literally chuckling about your comments about the voyeuristic nature of the language related to supersized women. The post was about a sighting... what could be more voyeuristic than that. Depending on the situation I am either engaged or voyeuristic. In today's Nooner this was a situation which was not appropriate for anything beyond a voyeuristic appraisal and enjoyment of a very attractive woman. She was likely half my age, not likely to share any of my interests or experiences or any of the things that form relationships. But that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy her beauty on a different level.
In many ways her beauty was defined only on a FA level. I suspect that most non-FAs would consider this woman quite unattractive and inappropriately dressed. Unattractive because she was so fat and inappropriately dressed because she was dressed in a way which not only didn't hide her very large size but highlighted and emphasized each bulge and roll of her body. In many ways she was a caricature of a very fat woman which would turn on an FA instantly, but which would evoke from a non-FA or fat hater the expression "ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack".
I can assure you that I'm no little boy watching a big ship going by. I'm a big man watching a hugely attractive woman going by and doing the mental equivalent of the construction workers' whistle.
I'm sure I would have similar feelings if you were provocatively dressed and walked by me, though I'm sure the adjectives would be focused more on the curvyness than the sheer size.
Anonymous: Huge definitely has his own style, and I love it. It's what keeps me coming back to his blog time and again. He would be boring otherwise, because his personality comes through so loud and clear in his descriptions of the women he sees. I just get a little confused sometimes by the language, I can't tell whether he's admiring them or just gasping in disbelief. (or maybe both?) :-)
Huge: I know you love fat women and don't mean to demean them or denigrate them. As in my reply to anonymous above, you'll see I'm merely confused by your reaction ... is it admiration, lust, or disbelief (or all of the above)?
I have seen fat women in stores or restaurants or on the street or wherever, and I have to admit that my eyes have travelled over their bodies in amazement, looking at all their rolls and bulges and mentally comparing them to my own. I didn't mean to say, either, that I found them repulsive ... strangely enough, I always seem to think that other fat women more attractive than myself. I am much less critical of them than I am of myself. I'll think, wow, she's really big, but she has such pretty hair and gorgeous eyes, what a pretty face.
There is so much to look at on a fat woman, isn't there? Whereas you can look at a thin woman and take her all in with one glance, it's not possible with a fat woman. You have to take your time to observe every bump and curve.
Suffering and tortured jeans, take two:
In spite of the fact that I think weight gain is the sexiest thing in the world, I've spent the last three years losing 160 pounds (for a plethora of reasons, which I'll spare you here). The urge to binge and gain again is never far away, however, and there are times I am helpless to resist the siren call. Last week, after several weeks of such indulgence, I poured myself into my smallest pair of jeans (which had fit just fine the last time I had tried them on) and with willful denial chose to ignore the fact that I was a good fifteen pounds or so too fat to wear them. I sucked my newly fattened belly in and poked and prodded that aggressive roll of blubber til I could coax the zipper up. Success. Or so I thought. I sat down and attempted to lean over to put my shoes on, but my suffering and tortured jeans held me back. I tried again and lunged for a shoelace... heard a loud pop... and felt immediate relief around my middle as my relieved belly forced its way, tsunami-like, out of the now-broken zipper. Had anyone else been there I would have been mortified... but as I was alone I felt my initial annoyance quickly melt into intense arousal...
I'm sure it makes no sense to you Emily... not sure if Huge's lady friend truly gets it (ever the skeptic that I am)... but I guar-an-tee you that Huge and the other FAs that read this do.
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