Ladies and Gentlemen, if you think there’s no such thing as sex bots you are sadly mistaken. They are quite expensive, but are slowly growing in popularity in various parts of the world. Some are even programmable to respond to certain stimuli or to have a base “personality” that can affect how they respond to that stimuli. To me, it is all a little strange because I’d much rather have sex with a living breathing person, but that’s just me. Sex robots could also be used as an educational tool to provide better and more comprehensive sexual education to children and adults alike.
There are plenty of legal and ethical questions surrounding sex dolls though, one of the biggest seeming to be the idea that pedophiles could get child size bots that allows them to act out their fantasy without hurting anyone. I offer a counterpoint to this that perhaps it could make them more likely to chase after a child they desire because they are now confident enough to do so with some “experience” under their belt so to speak. I worry the same thing about rapists or other sexual deviants. But maybe I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong.
Another point to bring up is that of social isolation. Would people become so obsessed with their bots that interacting with the real world would no longer matter. Would the dating scene be demolished by the advent of such a thing? What about birth rates? Again it all boils down to what becomes the legal and ethical thing to do in these cases.
Maybe in fifty years people will find it perfectly normal to have a sex robot of any kind. But how will that affect things like marriage and population growth? Could it be that they will both decline as people create their perfect robot partner? Or perhaps people will marry after all and have threesomes with a robot. All of these things are, of course, hypothetical outcomes, as people may end up rejecting the idea of sex with robots as entirely repugnant.
But where does the law end and the ethical debate begin. There are people out there who would question the legality, mortally, and ethics of having a bot simply for sex. It might seem to be too much for one generation where they had to learn the technology as they went, but perfect for the next generation who grew up with the technology already in place around them. That doesn’t make it legal or right to have sex with a robot necessarily, especially as our knowledge of artificial intelligence grows and the possibility of bots becoming more aware (right out of some science fiction right there), but some AIs have already learned to communicate with one another in their own language so who is to say that these bots couldn’t be just as smart.
This could be out future and what that future means for humanity is yet to be determined. I have hope for future generations, though, that they will not isolate themselves in a world of robots and artificial intelligence, but use these things as an addition to regular everyday life while they continue to maintain a human social experience as well. If you’d like further information you can check out the article linked below.
Alright, since my last post I’ve done a few things. I got with my mom and she helped me plan out a three month exercise routine that lets me ramp up how much I’m in the gym and exercising. By September I should be exercising 5 days a week, either at the gym or on my skates. Right now, to think about that seems scary…and exhausting. I’m having trouble motivating myself to go three times a week right now. Anyone got any good tips for motivation? But I know if I want to reach my goals I gotta go.
Speaking of goals…I don’t really see the successes when they happen. I have to rely on other people to tell me if I’m losing weight or if I’ve gained muscle or even if my weight lifting is improving, despite the obvious advancement of the number of pounds I’m lifting. My brain lies to me on this front and it gets incredibly frustrating, but small goals completely go right over my head. I’m trying to learn how to keep that from happening, but how do I figure it out when my brain lies to me and tells me the opposite is happening? It is a mystery to me.
Anyway, my fat ass is trying. I have a goal tracker on my phone, I try to drink enough to stay hydrated (I’m terrible at it), and I’ve been monitoring my food portions as well as the amount of sugar and liquid calories that I consume. This means not eating all the chocolate in the house when I’m PMSing and not getting a giant iced coffee when I can get a small and putting less sugar in my coffee and iced tea. Now, that last bit about the sugar in my tea, that’s important y’all cause I grew up in the South and that is the land of BBQ and sweet tea, so that is a hard one to give up. My solution has just been more water, but it certainly isn’t the same.
I don’t know if I’m losing weight, my pants size hasn’t changed, and things feel very static, but my partner and my best friend both keep reminding me that change is a slow process and it is OK if it doesn’t happen overnight and there will be times I plateau out for periods of time. It’s frustrating. I’m not feeling any sexier or more attractive. In fact, I had a meltdown a few weeks ago because I think my stomach is gross and for a while I didn’t want my partner to see it or look at it or touch. It was really difficult for me on a lot of levels because I communicate so much through touch, but them touching me resulted in a couple of mini panic attacks. No fun and it is an issue I’m working my way through.
So I’ve made changes, I’m going to keep making them (hopefully they’ll continue to be good ones) and I’m working on moving forward with accepting my body, despite the setbacks I’ve had. If I’m perfectly honest with myself, one of my big goals is to drop two pants sizes within the next six to eight months and I feel like if I keep up with my routine and my portion control that I can do that. And if I can, that means I will be the smallest I’ve been in years and almost the smallest I was in high school. That I think I’ll be able to see and call progress. Here goes!
“Hello, Gorgeous.” I looked at my partner, then glanced around wondering if they were talking to me. As we were alone together, it seemed pretty obvious that I was the person being addressed. I just shook my head a little and gave them a hug. I absolutely couldn’t see why they were calling me gorgeous so I dismissed it and moved on.
Instead of being upset or annoyed with me for not acknowledging what they meant as a compliment, they have only kept repeating that same statement to me, sometimes multiple times a day or with slight variations for the last five years. Maybe eventually I’ll get it. I’ll get out of bed one morning and look in the mirror and see what my partner sees. Or there will be some crazy transcendental moment mid-orgasm. I don’t know.
I do know that I’ve never considered myself to even be cute, much less words like beautiful or gorgeous, both of which I am frequently called by my absolute favorite person in the world. Instead I look in the mirror and all I can see are the flaws that make me so human and imperfect and what I see isn’t good enough. It never has been for as long as I can remember. In a world where looks appear to be valued over everything else, I was raised to be the smart one. And it taught me that smart girls/women aren’t pretty. We’re awkward and maybe a little ugly on the outside, but beautiful on the inside (where it counts.) Being fat as well means I feel like I have that hurdle to jump as well, but I can’t jump; no really I broke a bone trying track once.
So here I am, over 30, overweight, and left staring at a reflection that I just don’t see as positive. Granted I no longer see myself as overwhelmingly negative and sometimes I don’t even see myself in a negative light at all. So I might be making tiny steps towards progress if you can call being neutral about one’s own image progress. But that neutrality often leaves me feeling a bit blind, because I don’t really look at myself in a mirror unless I am deliberately searching for whatever flaw I might have, either real or perceived. Often, I wonder what is wrong with me that I can be so conscious of my own appearance that I can’t just relax and see the good things about myself.
Of course, then I tell myself that there is nothing good about my appearance and I move on to something else that nags at me or my self esteem or whatever. I’ve just accepted that I’m never going to be the “pretty one”; instead I’m considered smart and that is supposed to be enough in a society where the female form is supposed to aspire to reach unattainable heights of beauty that I know I will never see. And my partner always comes back to “Hello, Gorgeous.”
If you missed last week’s Wicked Wednesday, you can find it here.
Crawling. A baby’s first method of movement towards the process of walking upright. Something done by young children who just don’t want to walk or are playing pretend. How is crawling sexy when that is all that comes to mind for me?
To be honest, its not. I’ve tried to understand. I’ve even tried to slink across the floor myself but I just looked silly and awkward. I lack the innate grace, it seems, for an adult to look good crawling. I also hate being on my hands and knees because I find it uncomfortable at best. At its worst it could be used as an actual form of punishment for me in my relationship (no one tell Sir that, OK.)
I can’t even pretend to understand this kink. I was going to write a story about it instead of sharing my ramblings, but I couldn’t get past the first few lines. Hell, I understand it so little even this pseudo rant is difficult for me to write. I feel like Bart Simpson here, “I will not write about crawling.” “I will not write about crawling.” But here I am, left wondering what I can say that would be of any use to any one who reads this.
Maybe the idea of watching your guy or girl crawl across the floor to you is really hot and it turns you on. Maybe you like to make your submissive crawl because it puts them further into that head space that they (and you) might want them to be in. Whatever the reason behind it; why it turns you on, can someone please explain it to me?
So when I wrote “Fat and Sexy” sometime ago I was really struggling with my own body acceptance and really not getting anywhere. Mirrors were my enemy and I was too much a fan of comfort food to lose any weight. When my weight ballooned and left me wearing a size 28 I knew that I had to do something. I was hurting too much to exercise and it was getting to the point where I got winded walking upstairs to my second story apartment. Diabetes and heart problems run in my family and I wanted to minimize the potential for having those in my life as well.
So I started with cutting out the snacking and comfort eating, followed that up with portion control, and slowly began to lose weight. It took a while because I wasn’t exercising, but I finally dropped a pants size and even losing that small amount of weight helped me see myself in a slightly different light. I still disliked the mirror, but it made seeing myself a little easier. And once I had my eating under control I started exercising. Slowly at first. I couldn’t keep up with the DVD I was using so I slowed it down to a more manageable pace. I started to incorporate body weight workouts. I even was going to the gym for a while, but I struggled with motivation in an unwelcoming atmosphere so that eventually kept me from going back.
Even so I lost more weight. Before the Christmas holidays hit I was down to a size 24, the smallest I’d been in several years. Now I’m back on my roller skates getting fit with a roller derby themed fitness class, plus getting back into a routine after having the holidays and having been sick for a couple of weeks. I’m making progress and while I don’t always see it, other people are noticing.
My relationship with the mirror is bordering on neutral. I’m starting to feel less shame and more acceptance for my body. I was weighed at the doctor’s office when I was sick and I’ve gone from close to 400 pounds to just under 300. That’s progress to me. So is putting my weight out on the internet for that matter. And here I am.
I’m not where I want to be; not even close. My eventual goal is to lose enough weight and be strong and fit enough that I can play competitive roller derby again. Not to mention becoming healthier, feeling more attractive, and generally learning to love myself no matter how big or small I am, no matter what the scale says, and no matter what society thinks. I’m fat, but I’m also gonna be sexy and happy.
I’m a little kinky, my partner isn’t at all. And we knew this going into our relationship. At first I was afraid to talk to my partner because I’ve been shamed in the past for my sexual desires, kinky or not. So that was the first hurdle to overcome. To help me out, my partner offered frequent reassurance that it was OK to talk to them and would often ask me if I wanted to talk about it in a very non-pressuring kind of way. Eventually I began to open up.
And we started talking about things like fisting, being tied up, being spanked, being called names and the like. The more I talked about it the easier it got. That’s not to say that it is easy, because even four and a half years in, I still find it somewhat difficult (yay for my deep seated issues!) and sometimes I clam up at the simple mention of what they can do for me to make our sex life better. But we work through it and we both talk about our wants and needs and fears, not just about our sex life, but about everything in our lives.
That makes us stronger together than we are apart. My partner knows what I want, I know what I can reasonably expect to happen based on our conversations and we go from there. Sometimes things don’t go perfectly, other times everything is beyond perfection. It is all about timing and keeping the lines open. We even talk during sex about what is going on and working, what could be better, and what I do or don’t want at any given moment in time. And that can change and 5 minutes later I can want something I have just said no to. That’s OK.
My regular readers know what a high value I place on communication in a relationship and the same holds true here. It took me sometimes to work through past issues and trauma, but once I got there and got to a point where I figured if my partner could see me naked then I could probably talk to them about anything I wanted to do or try when it comes to our sex life. I would beat around the bush cause I was nervous (who doesn’t sometimes?) and finally just come out with whatever was on my mind. I’ve never gotten a disgusted reaction, although I have gotten some let me think about replies and maybe I’ll get a hard no one of these days. It’ll be OK. As individuals we are both entitled to say no just like we are to say yes.
That yes/no dialogue often drives our discussions and will shape them into organic conversations that grown on their own, naturally, and gives us time to stop and pause before responding. And if the words don’t come out right we can always rewind things and try again. I think that last bit is really the secret to sharing what I want with my partner. Words aren’t set in stone but in fluid motion,
I’m fat. I also struggle with feeling sexy because of it. Clothes don’t fit me properly, when I can find cute clothes at all mind you. I’m often limited to boring, plain cuts and colors because I refuse to wear the floral or big geometric prints that are something my grandmother would turn her nose up at. I gravitate towards darker more subdued colors as if I can take up less space that way.
Now I know I said in a previous post that you don’t always have to be sexy AND that I can be sexy because I am fat, but to be honest I don’t
always ever feel that way. And I don’t think I am alone. Obesity runs rampant in today’s society, yet we are bombarded by models and actors and entertainers of all kinds who are the epitome of beauty, at least according to western or societal ideals. Even most plus size models are smaller than a size 14 or 16 I believe. The only exception I can think of to this rule is Tess Holliday and she is fucking gorgeous.
So what’s a fat girl to do when she can’t find cute clothes, feels frumpy and unattractive, and may suffer from body dysmorphic disorders because she’s spent years (maybe her entire life) being told she’s fat? Good question, and one that I don’t have a solid answer to. I’ve read plenty of books and websites and articles about how to accept your fat self and be happy. None of them ever really seem to stick even though they may resonate with me.
Now I’m sure there are people reading this and thinking, “Well go to the gym. Eat better.” etc. but it isn’t as simple as people make it sound. Perhaps finances prevent people from doing those things, perhaps other issues like mental health pose a problem, perhaps they live in a food desert. There are any number of reason why losing weight is hard. And if losing weight is hard, might feeling sexy be even harder? Might the apparent lack of pretty and affordable lingerie be a part of the problem? Might even your looking at your own reflection in the mirror be a problem?
I could list a million and one reasons why I hate my fat self, why I don’t feel sexy, why this is a a pandemic problem for women and men across the country. But what it boils down it is that we have been taught that fat equals unattractive and unsexy. Fat equals unhealthy. But what about when that’s not the case.? There are lots of fat people out there who can accept themselves as they are, without shame, and feel sexy no matter what society throws at them. Why, I wonder, can’t I, can’t we all?