I didn’t want to end up finding sticky pictures of myself all over my own house, so I started tacking up pictures of you instead. I put them everywhere I couldn’t reach them: above the sink, on top of the refrigerator, in the bookcases, under the pillows. I put them in these places, thinking I would see them and he would see them, and that would somehow roll back the grin. I started handing them to my husband when they came in the mail, and bcc:ing them to him when they clogged my inbox. I made a pimp and whore of him. He did anything I asked, and he talked dirty to me irregardless of my being there. He loved me completely. Stupid me.
So what I’m asking should be fairly obvious.
I want you to go away.
Then Zoe Trope:
I’m really amused how Torrid.com’s main page has become more and more pornographic. Way to strut your stuff, chubby! (I also enjoy how their photographers are intent on making their models look as slim and sexy as possible. “We’re not fat, we’re just curvy!” I liked it better when they were all punk rock & more Hot Topic-ish & their models were real people with rolls and flaws. But nobody wants to see that, I guess.)