My essay “Loving the Bigger Fat” was edited and published by the lovely women at xoJane. Here’s a taste
I wake up to the clatter of metal hitting hardwood and a thump. Next to me, my boyfriend is on the floor. Our metal-woven platform bed has partially collapsed. My side of the mattress remains on its perch, but the other half makes a lean-to against the floor. Broken bits of metal peek out from the mess underneath Alex. A deep moan rises from his belly and grows into a wail.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get up.”
I stand and wait for him to join me. He’s coming from a lower depth, and he moves slower than I do.
“Come here.” I hold open my arms. He falls into them and cries. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “It’s okay.”
We pull the mattress off the mangled frame. We bought this “Better than a Box Spring” about ten months ago, one of many bed-related purchases since we’ve been together. It takes a lot to support us. When we first met, Alex weighed about 500 pounds to my 215. Since then, we’ve made and lost more progress than I can comprehend — gaining, losing, and regaining. We have a way to go.