Loving your Squish

It's fine to have your own views about things; but when you find yourself hating something (especially about yourself), I think it's important to understand why other people might enjoy it (or just don't see it as a big deal).

Consider artists who draw life models.

These folks adore any opportunity to draw something new and interesting - whether it be a pregnant woman in her third trimester, a guy with a beer gut or a chick with vertebrae bumps running up her back. All bodies can be considered beautiful and well designed in an artistic sense, especially with good lighting to accentuate the forms that make each person unique. Look at your rolls like they're features an artist can spend 10 minutes on, trying to get that subtle organic line or shadow penciled in just right.

Consider depraved fucks like myself, whose only "A" in highschool was on an art essay about the Venus of Willendorf.

These folks will sink there fingers into anything squishy they have consent to; treating every bit of squish like an organic stress ball to release their carnal energy with. These folks - beyond the instinctive "woah that's one fertile mother of my future child" - can thoroughly enjoy a wide pair of hips, mostly because putting their hands on them while they're moving feels like they have the earth between their palms. They enjoy the beating and pounding she'd be able to take with all that padding. They enjoy her leg muscles, big and powerful from carrying that extra weight. They enjoy that there's probably over a half dozen extra sweaty crevices they can slide their cock between - using underboob or hip cleavage like an obscene, embarrassing and ticklish cock sleeve. They enjoy the marks left on their bodies from years of being gorgeously curvaceous: stretch marks that indicate just how hefty their assets are; chafing between their thighs from being so awesomely voluptuous that they rub together. They know they can give that plump vulva a proper spanking, and a thorough ravishing. Seriously, there's about a million different ways someone can fetishize and objectify your body, and they become very easy to accept as flattering affirmations when it turns on someone you love.

Consider folks who (again, like myself) have simply spent enough time with larger folk to discover how fucking awesome they are to have as partners.

They know that they can go ham during massages and that there'll always be a way to make their partner gooey - such as massaging their sore chest or back muscles.

They worry less about whether or not their partner is comfortable during a cuddle or dog pile; they can rest their head anywhere and even lie on top of their partner, knowing that the squish protects them for any poky bony bits. For long-limbed folks they can enjoy how much their partner's body fills up a hug or a lazy leg thrown over their hip during spooning.

Just remember you can't always see how fucking awesome your body looks from your own point of view. Surround yourself with people who've spent time learning how to love the squish, and let them teach you how to love your own.