This post is about how the persecuted odd duck can persecute the even odder duck. Me being a feeder and all qualifies me for the ‘even odder duck’ category.
I was recently visiting the personal ‘site of a rather prominent celebrity (whom I shall decline to identify) who is — if you’ll allow me to use this expression — outspokenly gay. We all hear lots of talk about queers who are “in the closet” (more on that later in this post) and about how some have managed to find a way around their shame and fear and have “come out” of the closet and there are certainly lots and lots of queer folk who will assure you that it’s much better to be out of the closet than in it.
That makes plenty of sense to me. In fact, it makes me wish I were out of the closet about being a feeder. Nah! I’m not ready for that step!!
Queer folk are coming out of the closet. This is good, and this is very, very good. Hooray for honesty! Hooray for candor! Hooray for authenticity! Hooray for self-acceptance!
My unnamed celebrity is certainly “out of the closet” but he doesn’t seem content to move from the figurative closet to the figurative den (or to the figurative back porch or to any of the other places in the figurative house that support happy living). No. No. The celebrity has decided to make his way to the roof of his house where he spends his time blowing trumpets and shooting off firecrackers and banging on drums.
He also complains. A lot. One of the things he complains about — relentlessly — is that his neighbors complain about him — a circumstance he ascribes to blatant anti-gay bigotry and to religion.
You know, I don’t have any trouble understanding why religious people have trouble with him
Seems pretty clear to me that the underlying problems in his relations with people religious are prejudice, stereotyping, bullying and mean-spiritedness. In this particular (and rather rare) case, however, it’s not the religious people who are being bullies. It’s him!
Now, it’s not my habit to do much representing for Evangelicals, but I rather wish our gay celebrity would contain his criticisms to things Fundamentalists/Christians/Catholics/Believers actually do — the stuff they’re actually guilty of. There’s no point in blaming them for everything. Certainly he has no right to blame them for his narcissistic delusional system, and, anyway, there’s no excuse for mean-spiritedness of the target.
Since we’re on the topic of religion, even though it’s not my habit to throw Bible at my readers, I’ll slip a teensy weensy bit of scripture into the conversation because it’s relevant to the conversation. I’m pretty sure there’s something in the Bible about “Love your enemies”. Maybe not the Bible. Maybe I’ve got it mixed up with something from The Empire Strikes Back. Could it have been On The Road? Maybe it’s from Harry Potter. One of those…
Anyway, “Love your enemies” is a recommendation I heartily endorse and one we would all to well to contemplate (and by ‘we all’, I mean one particular gay activist who shall remain nameless.)
You’d think he (this ‘noted celebrity’ I really can’t stop obsessing about) would have done enough ‘spleen venting’ by tearing Christians apart; but, for some reason, he decided to take aim at feeders. I’d link the post, but that would be ‘outing’ him; and, besides, the post will get you as pissed off as I am and, believe me, you don’t need that!
In his assessment I’m a creepy creep. The whole lot of us are creepy creeps. Thanks for the support, my friend. I guess there’s room under the rainbow flag for the L, the G, the B and the T — but don’t come running for cover if you’re an F.
I’m an F all right — a feeder, a fetishist, a fatiphile. I love feedees, and gainers and stuffers. Yeah, I’m all that and I’m proud! Strike that. I’m not proud at all. I’m wracked with shame. I’m in the closet — and you can see that I am. I’m not posting under my real name, nor do I display a photograph of myself, nor do I let slip any identifying details about my life. Does that look like a closet to you? I does to me!
And, Mr. I’m-keeping-you-anonymous-which-is-more-than-you-deserve, you’re a big part of the problem. You’re a big part part of my problem! I no more decided to be a feeder than you decided to be gay. You’re queer and it’s OK; but I’m not queer — not according to you — I’m queerer than queer and that’s definitely NOT OK.
The #1 most important factor in the forming of my sexuality is shame. No. That isn’t it. The #1 most important factor in the deforming of my sexuality is shame. I’m not asking to leave off being a feeder. I don’t know if that’s even possible. What I want is to come to terms with shame, and with fear, and with self loathing, and with sexual frustration, and with my own phoniness. Can you relate, Mr. Sensitive-To-My-Own-Victimization-But-Not-To-Anyone-Else’s? I’m sure you can! You’re queer and you can relate to all that shame and misery stuff. Those are your issues too! I’m not allowed to have issues, though. I, according to the method, am queerer than queer. Outside the pale. Only bigots have trouble accepting homosexuals. Everyone has trouble with feedists.
I really don’t know how I’m going to make this happen, but I’m going to use this blog to come to terms with my shame. Am I going to learn to be a “normal” man who knows how to respect a woman and doesn’t want to encourage her engaging in unhealthy behaviors (such as relentlessly stuffing her face day after day until she becomes obese. No! Until she gets her BMI up to 40. No! 50!! — Well, fat. Really fat. And she totally LOVES being fat. <Pant, Pant> ) Is that what I’m going to do??? Outlook doubtful. But maybe I can make sense of it. Maybe you all can help me make sense of it.
I can’t stay on my high horse for long because, frankly, I can see where the people who think I’m not normal have a point. It pisses me off, but I can see why a gay guy wouldn’t want me in his queer club.
Tidbit: Yesterday I logged on to curvage.net and spent some time checking out a comment thread about women who’d gained 100 pounds or more. Basically, women who’d gone from ‘slim’ or ‘normal’ or ‘not much more than curvy’ to fat, fat, fat. Yowza!! Whoopee!
I went to bed after spending a few hours on Curvage and woke up three or four times during the night feeling super crappy about myself. I didn’t feel crappy about the fact that I was sexually aroused reading about and looking at then-and-now photos of women who deliberately gain massive amounts of weight. I felt crappy about the fact I was so, so, so ashamed. In other words, I felt crappy about feeling crappy.
Then, earlier today, I tried to get myself a membership on one of those dating sites that cater to fat women and to “the men who love them”. (That would be me, I suppose). I spent an hour, two hours, three hours trying to get all the profile and verification and screen name crap modified to specification (every now and then it becomes clear to me that I’m not entirely ready for the 21st Century) and, even after all that, I don’t know if I’m registered or not. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out I’ve already forgotten my user name and password.
I’ve got lots more to say and I will say it. Meantime I hope some of you kind, smart, thoughtful readers will add some comments to this post and help me put my finger on what it is that’s got me bugged.