Thursday, June 19, 2003
A little retrospection, if you don’t mind.
I’ve never been one who enjoyed labels. Yes, they make things really easy, but I find that once someone is stuck with a label, it’s hard to break free of it, it’s hard to not be that label.
Obviously I don’t care about the obvious titles: girl/woman, redhead, artist. I certainly fit those categories, and generally wouldn’t do anything to escape them. Well, I do dye my hair, but it’s red if I don’t. And the word ‘artist’ means different things to different people, and I think that’s what I love most about that ‘label’.
Certainly when I played basketball, there was no problem being labelled a guard, that’s what I was. And in high school I had no problem being labelled skinny, because, at 5’10”, 110 lbs, that’s much more polite than skeletal, beanpole etc. To a 16 year old girl, there are few labels that are more satisfying to achieve than ‘skinny’. It’s wrong, and I’ve contributed to that negative label. Oh well. Shit happens.
Since gaining weight I cheerfully accepted the labels of chubby, voluptuous, curvy, heavy, fat and huge. I even cheerfully accepted some of the more derogatory labels, they were proof that I was changing, and that I was better than someone else who felt that putting me down somehow made their world a better place. (I hate to be judgemental, I was unenlightened once myself. Ironically, I was unenlightened when I was lighter…)
Indeed, I actually rather enjoyed the derogatory labels a little bit more. I LIKED that I could embrace something that other people would cast off. I LIKED that I was being different. Did it prove I was better than them? I don’t know, but I certainly like that theory!
So that brings me to more current labels. I do enjoy a good internet chat. I know it’s not for everyone, but it is for me. I like being able to get to know people in an environment where your words and thoughts represent you more than anything else. Anyway, I like to chat on Dimensions Chat, which of course is centred around bigger people, and people who admire them.
The chat further breaks down, and as usual, it breaks down along labels. At this point, no arguing that I’m a BBW (Fat Woman), and no point in arguing that I’m an FFA (I like Fat Guys – one fat guy in specific). The other labels are a little more nebulous to me. They are feedee, feeder, and a bit of a new one (to me) foodee.
Feeder is the easiest to define. It’s someone who really likes the idea of their partner (or people in general I suppose) eating excessively. There are a few reasons people would be ‘feeders’. They like the idea of others enjoying food. Or, much more commonly, they enjoy the prospect of others gaining weight! Usually it’s a mix of both.
A feedee would then be someone who likes to indulge a feeder. That would mean they enjoy eating excessively, usually with an eye to gaining weight.
A foodee would be like a feedee, except they’re more interested in the experience of eating. Enjoying the aromas, the flavours and textures brought about by a good meal, a divine snack or even simple candy.
So, given these definitions, how do I see myself?
Obviously it has changed over time.
At first, I believe I was a ‘foodee’. Jeri had gained such enjoyment from eating that it was infectious, and I learned how to love to eat too. We did gain quite a few pounds in the process, but we just loved to eat!
But, as the weight did pile on, we found ourselves fascinated by it. We loved the new feelings as our bodies changed. It was just amasing. At this point we definitely became feedees. It wasn’t just about good food, but about packing away calories!
At this point I also transcended into becoming a feeder. I was interested in making the best food I could, because greater variety, greater tastes, greater experiences made everything much easier. I’m not sure if there is a term for someone who wants to gain, wants to see others gain and wants to make all the food, but that’s me then!
At the point we were full fledged BBWs is when I met Ian. He was the first person I knew who was ‘into’ weight gain and BBWs. He was my first FA (likes fat women). He was also a feeder, and was obviously impressed by my current pursuits. Ian did become my feeder, and I was his feedee.
Ian did to most of the cooking for a while. I was in heaven, he was being so good to me. He bought a lot of prepared stuff, but he was pretty handy in the kitchen. So I really was a full time feedee at that point. Eventually I got a little bored with that, and wanted back in the kitchen, I continued as a feedee, even though it was technically me who was feeding me, again!
After moving in with Ian it was hard for him to resist the barrage of food that I was preparing, the snacks that were constantly available for me. He had gained 60 lbs, but since he wasn’t trying too, we barely noticed! With the ‘damage’ done, he decided that he wanted in on the fun; he wanted to be a feedee too!
To be honest, I wasn’t very impressed with the idea at first. Was I jealous? Maybe. Was I hypocritical? You bet (or, as Ian called it… hippo-critical). But her persisted. He gained a further 40 pounds before the switch was thrown in my mind! He loved it, who was I to deny something he loved? And, the changes in his body WERE drastic, and I do so love change. It took some time, but I became a feeder again. And I also became an FFA.
As time wore on, and weight piled up, I eventually decided enough was enough, and I had to lose weight. Ian was still gaining, and enjoying it (as was I!), so I became a full time feeder!
So, that’s where I am now. I’m not a feedee. I’m a recovering foodee (or in normal person speak, I’m on a diet). I am a feeder, and I am an FFA.
As much as I eschew labelling myself, this was certainly an enjoyable exercise!
I’ve never been one who enjoyed labels. Yes, they make things really easy, but I find that once someone is stuck with a label, it’s hard to break free of it, it’s hard to not be that label.
Obviously I don’t care about the obvious titles: girl/woman, redhead, artist. I certainly fit those categories, and generally wouldn’t do anything to escape them. Well, I do dye my hair, but it’s red if I don’t. And the word ‘artist’ means different things to different people, and I think that’s what I love most about that ‘label’.
Certainly when I played basketball, there was no problem being labelled a guard, that’s what I was. And in high school I had no problem being labelled skinny, because, at 5’10”, 110 lbs, that’s much more polite than skeletal, beanpole etc. To a 16 year old girl, there are few labels that are more satisfying to achieve than ‘skinny’. It’s wrong, and I’ve contributed to that negative label. Oh well. Shit happens.
Since gaining weight I cheerfully accepted the labels of chubby, voluptuous, curvy, heavy, fat and huge. I even cheerfully accepted some of the more derogatory labels, they were proof that I was changing, and that I was better than someone else who felt that putting me down somehow made their world a better place. (I hate to be judgemental, I was unenlightened once myself. Ironically, I was unenlightened when I was lighter…)
Indeed, I actually rather enjoyed the derogatory labels a little bit more. I LIKED that I could embrace something that other people would cast off. I LIKED that I was being different. Did it prove I was better than them? I don’t know, but I certainly like that theory!
So that brings me to more current labels. I do enjoy a good internet chat. I know it’s not for everyone, but it is for me. I like being able to get to know people in an environment where your words and thoughts represent you more than anything else. Anyway, I like to chat on Dimensions Chat, which of course is centred around bigger people, and people who admire them.
The chat further breaks down, and as usual, it breaks down along labels. At this point, no arguing that I’m a BBW (Fat Woman), and no point in arguing that I’m an FFA (I like Fat Guys – one fat guy in specific). The other labels are a little more nebulous to me. They are feedee, feeder, and a bit of a new one (to me) foodee.
Feeder is the easiest to define. It’s someone who really likes the idea of their partner (or people in general I suppose) eating excessively. There are a few reasons people would be ‘feeders’. They like the idea of others enjoying food. Or, much more commonly, they enjoy the prospect of others gaining weight! Usually it’s a mix of both.
A feedee would then be someone who likes to indulge a feeder. That would mean they enjoy eating excessively, usually with an eye to gaining weight.
A foodee would be like a feedee, except they’re more interested in the experience of eating. Enjoying the aromas, the flavours and textures brought about by a good meal, a divine snack or even simple candy.
So, given these definitions, how do I see myself?
Obviously it has changed over time.
At first, I believe I was a ‘foodee’. Jeri had gained such enjoyment from eating that it was infectious, and I learned how to love to eat too. We did gain quite a few pounds in the process, but we just loved to eat!
But, as the weight did pile on, we found ourselves fascinated by it. We loved the new feelings as our bodies changed. It was just amasing. At this point we definitely became feedees. It wasn’t just about good food, but about packing away calories!
At this point I also transcended into becoming a feeder. I was interested in making the best food I could, because greater variety, greater tastes, greater experiences made everything much easier. I’m not sure if there is a term for someone who wants to gain, wants to see others gain and wants to make all the food, but that’s me then!
At the point we were full fledged BBWs is when I met Ian. He was the first person I knew who was ‘into’ weight gain and BBWs. He was my first FA (likes fat women). He was also a feeder, and was obviously impressed by my current pursuits. Ian did become my feeder, and I was his feedee.
Ian did to most of the cooking for a while. I was in heaven, he was being so good to me. He bought a lot of prepared stuff, but he was pretty handy in the kitchen. So I really was a full time feedee at that point. Eventually I got a little bored with that, and wanted back in the kitchen, I continued as a feedee, even though it was technically me who was feeding me, again!
After moving in with Ian it was hard for him to resist the barrage of food that I was preparing, the snacks that were constantly available for me. He had gained 60 lbs, but since he wasn’t trying too, we barely noticed! With the ‘damage’ done, he decided that he wanted in on the fun; he wanted to be a feedee too!
To be honest, I wasn’t very impressed with the idea at first. Was I jealous? Maybe. Was I hypocritical? You bet (or, as Ian called it… hippo-critical). But her persisted. He gained a further 40 pounds before the switch was thrown in my mind! He loved it, who was I to deny something he loved? And, the changes in his body WERE drastic, and I do so love change. It took some time, but I became a feeder again. And I also became an FFA.
As time wore on, and weight piled up, I eventually decided enough was enough, and I had to lose weight. Ian was still gaining, and enjoying it (as was I!), so I became a full time feeder!
So, that’s where I am now. I’m not a feedee. I’m a recovering foodee (or in normal person speak, I’m on a diet). I am a feeder, and I am an FFA.
As much as I eschew labelling myself, this was certainly an enjoyable exercise!
// posted by Charlotte @ 4:03:00 PM 
