What Not To Wear

By Kitty Von Quim
If someone tells you that they're absolutely in love with their body a hundred percent of the time, they are more than likely lying. My relationship with my physique in 2012, after nearly five years of dancing with Rubenesque Burlesque, is so far away from what it was before I joined the troupe.

Somewhere in my early teens I continued my family's legacy of being a fat kid. I strived to be an unexplained gainer of weight, and never ate publicly, while I scarfed down two or three meals worth of food after school. As instructed by my family, I always cleaned my plate of any of their delicious Cajun home-cooking. I was never encouraged to be active: recently I heard my mother didn't sign me up for dance class because she thought I would become a whore. By the time I could take my own action, someone had already told me I was fat. No one wanted to see me dance. No one wanted to see me run, jump, skip, do cartwheels.

Post-college, I moved from Louisiana to California. When I walked through the streets of San Francisco, I could see nothing but slim, fit people. There was no easy access to plus size clothing! Wouldn't life be easier not being fat? I started working with a trainer to lose weight, and I did lose a little bit. My mother and my grandmother saw me and exclaimed how much prettier I was when I wasn't hiding behind all of my chub. I made plans for all of things I would do and wear when I was thin! So when the weight returned – I inevitably lapsed my gym membership – I knew that I was getting uglier and uglier.

Now, I never was mopey about my weight, or talked down about my body. In regards to my fat I maintained a Southern attitude: we didn't talk about it. My struggles with my body were only confronted in dressing rooms as I went the next size up in pants. My wardrobe was solidly the color black, no horizontal stripes, and no jeans were skinny (because, duh, I wasn't).

I met Rubenesque Burlesque after they had performed. I was bold enough to tell them how fabulous they were and Juicy D. Light told me that I should come and play. Suddenly that was my permission to do everything I had always wanted to do, and thought no one wanted to see. One person opened the door for me, and I walked through it. One person wanting to see me perform meant I could dance as much as I wanted. I could wear all of the fabulous clothes and colors and horizontal stripes I wanted! I could strip as much as I wanted!

That one person led to audiences of people screaming for me as I took off each article of clothing: with each one, they wanted more, and I definitely have more to show. This permission nurtured the love I had buried all along, and now I'm happy to dance for myself and share it with others. Time moves too fast to wait until you're perfect: for now, have fun inside the body you have.
Kitty Von Quim having unadulterated wicked awesome fun inside the body she has

Fat, Fine and Fabulous

By Ms. Frida B.

For years I have been struggling with my body and its gain in weight. When I was growing up I was the skinny awkward kid with big feet. I didn’t weigh 100 pounds until I was 19. I could eat anything I wanted and often did. I hated my body then. I felt too skinny, though I have always had a large ass – thank you, Jesus!

At 19 I had a life-changing event happen that caused me to gain weight I was never able to lose. I also had a boyfriend who liked to point out when I was gaining weight. He often stated how he didn’t like big chicks. He wasn’t cruel, just not understanding. I went from 100 pounds to 130 over two or three years. While that doesn't seem bad, for me it was traumatic

Anytime I thought I was looking sexy, someone somewhere would remind me how small I used to be. Or they would comment on how I had gained weight. I was back to being at a low point. I had to deal with this life-changing experience and people commenting on my weight gain.

Now let me step back a bit and explain that the women in my family are not small women. I always thought my grandmother, my mother, and sister were beautiful women. I wanted to look like them, so curvy and sexy. I wanted to be dark like my grandmother. I never knew there was anything wrong with being big. I didn’t experience the prejudice that they had. I was always made fun of for being skinny.

So when I gained weight and people started in on that, my self esteem dropped. I made up for it by making fun of myself for everything I found at fault. I covered up and didn’t even try to be sexy. I handled my depression and low self esteem by sleeping around and finding ways to abuse myself.

But I found that I was doing myself worse than those around me. I came to the epiphany that if I find big women to be sexy then why am I beating myself up for my changes? And who the hell are these people for judging me? I also came to the realization that as strong-willed and pro-woman as I am, how can I preach it and not live it? The biggest thing to happen to me in realizing that I am beautiful the way I am came when I was introduced to my burly sisters of Rubenesque Burlesque. Honestly, I was shocked and didn’t know what to think when invited to be a part of a big girl troupe. When I got there and started to dance and first stripped off my clothes and was so warmly embraced, I knew it was right and that I was home.

I currently weigh 175. I went up to 200 pounds, but was pregnant at the time. I know that is not that big. But in the world of supermodels, Hollywood and the health charts, at 5’3” I am overweight, obese even. I have had my ups and downs and have finally found a place where I am proud of my body.

I am sexy and flabby and have so much to hold onto and love. I am healthy and in love. I appreciate all that I am and cannot deal with those who chose to degrade me because I am not a size 2. I also cannot deal with those who snub me because I am not a 3x. I am an in between and I am proud of it. My ass is large and round and jiggles when I move. That shit was sexy before J. Lo. My belly is round and flabby and jiggles when I move. That shit is sexy as fuck and gives my man something to hold onto when he squeezes me from behind. My hips give his hands a home as he pulls me to him. My arms are comfort to my baby boy.

I am fat, fine, and fabulous. Thank you, sisters for helping me realize that.

Ms. Frida B.

Fat on Phat Violence....a rant

By Miss Magnoliah Black

Disclaimer: the following post contains multiple, continuous and flagrantly shameless usage of the words: fuck, bitch, and FAT If any of these words offend you or if you're one of my former English teachers please navigate away from this page now

Dear Ungrateful Fat Bitches,
nobody put's baby in a corner