Tuesday, August 24, 2010



Explicit adult content!
Not intended for those under 18 years of age

I have been thinking a lot about attention. Both the good and the bad kind but particularly the bad kind and its role in my life as an obese adult.

Growing up I was interested in sex from a very early age. I don’t even know if there was any particular event or point at which I became interested. I was just ALWAYS interested in it. How it worked. What happened, etc. I was extremely curious. I remember that my grandma had a book (a child’s introduction book on ‘how babies are made’) and that DID NOT SATE my curiosity. I felt there was more and knew I was being deprived of information. I remember asking again and again and again to see that book. I read anything and everything I could, even sneaking into adult sections of the Christian bookstore that my grandma frequented to try to learn more. I remember once I found a book that described sexual intercourse as the man laying his penis inside the woman’s vagina and all I could picture was placing a hotdog inside a hotdog bun. I just didn’t get it and KNEW there was more I needed to find out about. Why the insane curiosity??? I HAVE NO IDEA!

There were incidents as a child when I was around 6 or 7 when a friend of my grandparent’s brought their son who was a year or two older than me to their house. We were in my bedroom (I always had a bedroom there, even when I didn’t live there which makes my memories blurry on how old I really was) and we did the normal, ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,’. I was fascinated. At age 7 I had my first (self inflicted) orgasm, although at the time I had NO IDEA what had happened. Just that it felt GOOOD. Once I was caught with a friend pretending to be boys. We took pens and stuck them inside our pants. I’m not sure what our fascination was with penis.

As I got older and finally learned how it all REALLY happened I became even more interested. At 14 in 1998(?) the internet was a huge draw for me. Because I had always been chubby I loved the idea that I could get online and talk to boys/men and not immediately be judged by my size. I LOVED chatting.

I’m not going to give explicit detail here, but at one point I was given the opportunity to spend 3 days completely alone and with that time I spent most of it on the computer chatting. I chatted with a man who told me he was 43 years old and that he’d like to see a picture of me. Being 14 I didn’t see how a photo could do any harm so I sent it. He requested more so I sent them. When I requested one of him I received a very blurry image but didn’t really care. After-all he was 43. He was OLD! (He was only 6 years younger than my grandpa) Anyway, we chatted and he convinced me to give him my phone number and we chatted on the phone. The conversation was of a very flattering and vaguely sexual nature.

** I’d like to say here that up until I turned 21 I would have sworn up and down that I was completely 100% at fault for what happened. I blamed myself and thought that if I hadn’t ‘seduced’ him, if I hadn’t been so stupid as to chat with him, if I hadn’t done this or that yada yada than what happened next wouldn’t have happened. I now realize that my fragile teenage psyche was manipulated and I really wasn’t as in control of the situation as I had thought I’d been. I realize now that yes, it was my fault for chatting with people I knew I shouldn’t have been but it was his fault for preying on innocent teenage girls. Yes, that’s right. It wasn’t just me.

That night he convinced me to give him the address where I was so he could come visit me. He lived nearly 1.5 hours away. I’m not sure what I thought would happen. I’m sure I had some semblance of an idea because I immediately showered and shaved EVERYTHING. But when he came in and the touching started I was surprised. Maybe I thought he’d be put off by me in person. Maybe I hadn’t actually believed he would come. I don’t know. But he did come and he performed 26 of 48 counts worth of charges on me that he would later be charged for.

The guilt after that night was excruciating and enormous and I even cringe now as I remember it. It brings a ball of nausea into my stomach that is difficult to suppress. I remember being horrified when it was done as he waltzed into the bathroom and peed but didn’’t flush. The smell was so strong and the sight of him was awful. I remember stripping the bed after he had left and wondering what I was going to do because the sheets were wet and I hadn’t been given permission to use the washer/dryer. What excuse would I give for wet sheets. I think I later lied about peeing in bed. I remember lying in bed that night obsessing over the whole event and then I called my then boyfriend to take my mind off of it. Yes, I had a boyfriend who ironically shared the same name as the man who had come over. Unfortunately my boyfriend was your typical horny 17 year old and so all he wanted to do was talk about sex on the phone.

The next year of my life was literally spent on house arrest, not only as a punishment but for safety reasons. It was HUGE news that 2 young teenage girls (Again – I won’t go into detail but my best friend was involved as well which accounts for the remaining 12 charges) were raped by a very prominent chef.

As you probably know I grew up in a wealthy suburb of Los Angeles and if you are not familiar with or have been living under a rock you would know that Los Angeles is heavily populated by Latinos and they stare! If you don't have anything dangling between your legs or any hair growing on your face they will stare. I got a lot of this as a young teen. Especially after that whole incident. At least I noticed it more. I noticed how they looked me up and down. I thought it was flattering but I think inwardly I hated it, because I ate. I ate a lot. So much in fact that I started gaining weight rapidly. I went from close to 200lbs to 230 in no time flat but the attention didn't stop there. That following summer at 15 years old I began my first summer job at a local fast food Mexican restaurant (no not Taco Bell) where I met my now ex husband.

**Tangent - I wonder if because the man who abused my friend and me was Latino I felt some obscure and possibly sadistic need to punish myself by being/subjecting myself to being with someone similar.

10 years later I am now 100% positive that I was attracted to him because he gave me attention that felt good. But 10 years ago you couldn’t convince me that I wasn’t in love with him. The rest is history. I never had another boyfriend besides him. I never had sex with anyone besides him.

It didn’t take long after our ‘first time’ for me to get sick of sex and now sex is a dirty word (quite literally) to me. When I think of sex these are the words that should come to mind: love, beauty, fun, exciting, enchanting, mutual, enjoyable. But when I think about sex these are the words that ACTUALLY come to mind: chore, obligation, quick, boring, dirty, yuck.

I think all of this in addition to the verbal and emotional and eventually physical abused I suffered during that duration of 10 years is partially contributed to why I have gained weight. I noticed as I have started losing weight that men look at me. I don’t know why they look at me but they do and regardless I have days where I bask in the attention and other days when I want to poke their eyes out and ask them what they’re staring at. Yesterday I was told by someone that my eyes looked beautiful, that they popped out at them with the way I had done my make-up. I was flattered. If that same scenario had presented itself today though, I would have thrown a fit. I feel so messed up.

Today I saw the ex for our normal Monday morning breakfast and visit with the girls. He kept looking at me and I noticed the more I ignored him looking at me the more snippety and angry he got. By the end of the visit he practically threw the girls in their car seats. So what did I do? Did I cry? Did I scream and shout and stomp my feet? No. I ate.

I’ve decided that I feel more emotionally protected, more emotionally secure with my armor of fat.

I’ve decided that I feel vulnerable and weak and subjected without it.

I think it’s time I stop being a wuss.

It’s time to act like an adult and be an adult and lose the weight.

No more binky sweets or salty babas (lol)

I need to get rid of the protective wall and build an armor of confidence


I have a looong road ahead of me.

XO Kristen


  1. First let me say that it was NOT your fault! NOTHING you did was wrong!! And I mean that!
    Girl you are so strong!
    Food is a comfort for you and hell reading this I understand why!
    But you look amazing and I am so proud for the weight you have lost!!
    I wish that there was something to say to make all of the pain and bad memories from the past go away but since there isn't just know that I am here if you ever need to talk....I can relate to you on SO many levels! :(

  2. HUGS..that took some major guts to tell your story. You are ready to change you life now. God bless you in this!

  3. Thanks for sharing something so personal with us. Our weight is our armor in a lot of cases. You're right, though, it's time to shed that armor and become who you've always been but have been hiding! :)

  4. I've always believed that a lot of us carry our weight as an armor. I've yet to figure out why I carry my armor around. Sometimes I think I'm suppressing something from childhood...other times I think it's just something that I do with no real reason. It's hard for us to look deep inside and figure out why we're the way we are and I commend you for being able to do it here. Thanks for sharing!

  5. I understand. More than you may realize I understand. You are an amazing person and your children are blessed to have you as a mom.

  6. This post really hit home for me. I also have gained weight and literally hide from people because for some reason I feel unworthy. I've had these feelings for many years but mostly since my husband walked out 2 1/5 yrs ago. I'm trying to find the road back to life myself right now. Keep blogging and telling your story.... Good Luck!


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