She came on the arm of a man with a crown, glittering silver filigree in the firelight, but wearing no crown of her own.

"I LOVE your dress," she told me, and put her hands on me. It was one of my older new dresses, a 16th century orange wool number that was laced tightly up the sides, exaggerating my hips and outlining my breasts perfectly.

"Thank you," I said. "I like yours too." Hers, also 16th century, probably a little earlier, German, with rolled pleats in the front and back. We examined each others armpits, which is standard in this sort of thing.

"You like it?" she asked, running her finger over the gore at her shoulder. "I borrowed it from my roommate. It's six inches too long." And it was. I was immediately impressed.

What display of wealth.

~

G showed up. Was camped next to me, in the tent of another woman, who he was also not dating.

I was bitter. Said shitty things.

I'm a terrible person.

~

"You are beautiful," she told me. "I would love to fuck you."

I hesitated, and not just because of the redness between my legs, but because of how long it had been since I had taken a woman as a lover.

I was tempted. I'm not going to lie. Despite my condition, I was tempted.

~

G froze the first night. I went looking, on the second night, for him, to offer him some more blankets, and found him wrapped in the arms of a woman who looked suspiciously like me.

I decided rather than say anything shitty, I should just go to bed, and so I did.

I drunkenly brushed my teeth to get the horrible bitter taste out of my mouth, and spat out the back door of my tent.

~

She grabbed me by the hand, and pulled me into the pavilion of my old Baroness.

"You have the most beautiful skin," she said, pressing her mouth to my throat, sucking on my pulse, and pushing her fingers between the lacing at my sides.

The Baroness, sitting on her cooler with a flashlight, just laughed and watched, and I didn't mind.

~

I flirted hard during the day. Hard, but languidly, through half closed lashes.

Sashaying past with a quick glance and a smile over a shoulder.

I never feel as attractive as I do when I'm at a medieval recreationist event.

~

She pulled at the lacing, dragged at my shoulder straps, brushing away my linen chemise like fragile onion skins.

She never kissed me on the mouth. Just pushed my dress to my waist and sat back in awe of my breasts.

"Perfect," she said. "Beautiful." She laughed. "The Prince is going to be so sorry he missed this. What a twit."

I laughed, but was secretly pleased at the praise. It's been so long, so long.

~

I've forgotten what it's like to be attractive.

It's stupid. I feel so fat, so out of shape, all of the time.

And when ever anyone tells me it's "so easy" to get in shape, "so easy" to change my lifestyle, I just get more and more bitter, and struggle harder and harder.

I punish myself with horrible thoughts. Pinch my belly fat when I'm standing in front of the mirror. Slap my thighs when I roll over in bed. Pull at the fat building around my face.

I never used to feel this way.

Sure, I was thinner, but not by much.

What changed?

My poor old self esteem, never super strong to begin with, got battered more and more by careless men. By myself. By everything.

Ugh. I need to sleep.

Too much inward thinking will make me sick.

.

Rosie.

Before&After