Outcast

It was funny I was watching an episode of the British sitcom "Gavin & Stacey" and one of the characters asked the question "If you where gay what type guy would you like" and the character was berated because he was overweight and that he would be an outcast a pariah in the gay community. Weight and I go hand in hand like an executioner leading his charge to the gallows. I yo-yo like a teeter toter in a child's playground. I know this all stems from self esteem and surroundings. I know if I was back upon my stomping grounds of  Philly's gay scene I would be back to my meth induced size 32 jeans and those fabulous cheekbones that could  cut a diamond in the rough . I would live on vitamin water ,oodles of noodles,and Gin. I would have the fabulous wardrobe again  (grunge to Valentino) and yet the self esteem of an egg noodle.

I wish that we lived in a society that wasn't so fucked up in image. I mean we have the largest percentage of obesity than in any other nation; and yet we fucking advertise junk food,comfort food and in the same magazine we tell you ,you have to be thin to be in. WHAT THE FUCK....it is the schizophrenia of the advertising world that has thrown me into a post weight gain depression that just mind fucks with the best of me. I stare at myself naked sometimes and just want to cry at the sight of that pasty body ( No Sun...KIEHL'S is the Savior for this gay man) and those legs and thighs that still have that Dietrich oomph . My ass well it is just swell. It is my GODDAMN gut and face that scream GURLLLLLLLLLLLLLL it is time to lay off those SWEETS and MCD's fries.

I look at my jeans drawer and cry at the still new Polo jeans I bought a year and a half ago still with the tags on them. It was like this...I found them at Off The Rack for 29 dollars and could not pass them up. I tried them on ,they where a 34 waist and I was like a white trash beauty queen winning her first title as I cried ....THEY FUCKING FIT and my ASS looked fucking hot in these jeans. Now this is where I want to scream because I put them in a drawer back at home and about a week later went to put them on and it was like I was putting a hot dog casing on John Holmes cock . I started to think that something was amiss in Denmark , I mean did that little Italian queen replace them or was this some mental fuck up.... or, did I even try them on. I had tried them on, it was  just this fucking yo-yo weight thing. This just all makes me want to walk into an Abercrombie & Fitch and fucking BITCH SLAP the first anorexic gay twit twink that gets within three feet of me. These GAY TWIT TWINKS with their 28 waists and potruding chest cavity and Bieber haircuts just beg for a horribly savage shit kicking from us queens who will never see a 28 waist again ; unless we contract some horribly disgusting gastric disease only seen in the Congo.

Let's face it  this is not a lifestyle that looks kindly at any waist size over 34 unless your Barry Diller or Sir Elton. I am back to my dam starvation diet and hope to be back to 34 or FINGERS CROSSED HORRIBLY maybe 32 waist so I can get back on the dating scene. Thank Fucking God I don't look my age which again I owe all to Kiehl's and I don't care people but the hair will stay shoulder length for the time being.  I want too just see my penis without having to look into a mirror , I mean is that wrong to wish  for.