I drew the short straw when it came to the genetic pool. With my parents, the Italians overpowered the Irish. So I was stuck with the Jackie Gleason body. Skinny legs, small ass and a belly that just doesn’t quit.
As a teenager, it didn’t matter how thin I got (sound familiar?) I still had a gut. I fluctuated between 115 and 135 at 5′ 3″. Always had killer legs but always that gut. That is just my genetics, no?
Given enough HAES, I have no doubt that gut would have become a fupa. Given the HAES platform these days, no doubt would I be shaking that baby belly in the street, screaming that all men should embrace it and love it. Luckily, I grew up before this shitstorm of FA’s.
After the second kid, I had a ton of excess skin. So I had a tummy tuck. It was a fucking bitch. And then some. Would I do it again? You bet your ass.
My eating habits didn’t change. I do tend gain about five pounds per year. A good flu generally wipes that out but for the last few years, I haven’t gotten sick (stupid perks of being healthy). So I have to take a month, each spring, to cut calories and get back to my normal weight. And I don’t think about it again until the following spring.
Moral of the story? Sometimes genetics do suck. I dealt with it until my late 30’s. I dealt with everything that every oppressed FA cries about. The only difference is that I didn’t give up. I accepted my flaws and knew that was just my ‘genetics.’ And when I was finally able to, I fixed it. And even if I couldn’t afford it, you still wouldn’t see me sporting a fupa and flashing it in the middle of Times Square. That would just mean that I gave up on myself. And I will never give up on me.