My only successful diet wasn’t weight watchers, calorie counting, or Atkins, it was making love.

I lost 30lbs without changing anything.

My partner? He was a man who worked in IT with a normal physique, and a normal income. And he was a God. He loved my body exactly as it was. Curves and fat bouncing. He savored me until it was clear I was delicious. He showed up in ways that made me call out in exaltation.

I have a tattoo with his initial.

When we broke up, my belly swelled like a distended watermelon. I saw years of doctors. Tried a million different things…parasite cleansing, diets, acupuncture… because even though I was decently awake, I refused to believe that stuck energy could become SO physical.

I have seen that type of belly since, on all sorts of frames. Whether it is fat, or inflammation, it is a distinct sign. The pleasure you are capable of has been capped. You are unexpressed.

No doctor could help me. It took the reclamation of my fullness.

Becoming a lover is not a small thing. It doesn’t mean someone who can have s-x, that’s physical. I am taking about someone who can elicit a gasp from the other side of the room. Someone who wakes up fueled by their own passion. Someone whole.