Recent additions to the drug market mean it is now much easier for people who are unhappy with their weight to change it if they’d like to. Ozempic, Mounjaro and other injections have made it possible to lose weight in a rapid and simple way. As always, I want to state very plainly that the shape and size of your body is not a moral question – you are not obliged to be a certain size or look a certain way in order to be worthy of love and admiration. Diet culture is incredibly fucked up, and the way society encourages us to police other people’s bodies is deeply problematic and incredibly harmful to all of us (me included), so you should never feel obliged to change your body if you don’t want to. However, some people do want to, and they choose to use weight loss injections like Mounjaro to help in that process. And holy FUCK do some people want to have opinions about that choice!

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I can’t quite believe I’m having to say this. Even as I pull this guy aside for a quick word, there’s a part of me that’s sitting outside my body, surveying the scene and wondering how the fuck I’ve ended up here. In the 21st century, as a grown adult with another grown adult, about to explain to him that ‘casual’ sex does not mean you get to treat me with contempt.

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Describing a sexual experience can be difficult and delicate in itself, but it’s even more challenging to go beyond that and show the ways in which individual sexual experiences can have a broader ripple effect – on the way you feel about yourself, your body, your relationship to others and the world. This week’s guest blog is about hearing audio porn for the first time, and touching yourself to something that feels truly intimate. But it’s also about so much more than that. Huge thanks to the author, YHD, whose writing absolutely took my breath away.

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I roll on top of him first thing in the morning. He’s awake, but pretending not to be. As I grip his dick and squeeze gently just below the coronal ridge, it pulses hotter and harder in the palm of my hand. When I start to stroke it, a smile flickers briefly at the corner of his lips. He suppresses it, then feigns a still-sleepy half-stretch to make the angles easier for me to straddle him and hop aboard.

This post is not consensual non-consent. Everything that happens is extremely consensual. However, the fantasy I tell this guy while we’re in bed does have notes of CNC, coercion and fucking-as-punishment. I maintain that it is not a CNC story, rather it is a consensual story about two people who enjoy playing in this fantasy space. It’s a hill my career will probably die upon at some point, but for what it’s worth I think it’s more than possible to present these fantasies in an ethical way, and part of doing that means warning you that you’re about to read something in this vein. 

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When I was in my late twenties I used to write blog posts about bullshit societal expectations of women at that age. How we were expected to be slim, ‘feminine‘, hairless, petite and sweet-smelling (especially in the ‘cunt‘ region). Then, for a brief period in my thirties I was nagged to be one thing above all others (PREGNANT!). Now that I’ve sailed past childbearing age without even a cursory click on a ClearBlue ad or video about IVF, the sales messages have settled into a comfortable, familiar horrorshow of content for the ‘older’ lady. And they seem pretty united in bad news: I’ve got far too much skin everywhere, and my face is falling off.

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