J. Beaman - The Magazine

Ohh! (profound, gutteral, oh) stake through my heart, jab in the pit of my guilt.

As a fan of your writing, and nosy ex-girlfriend that I am, you would have to expect that I would check out your zine online every 6 months of so…only to discover I feature so negatively. Is that why we’re not friends? I did want to have sex with you. You gave me the best orgasms of my life. I still want to have sex with you! I know what I said, and it was in the interest of being completely honest, despite the hurting. I had problems with sex. It wasn’t you, and it wasn’t that you were fat. I realized long ago that the sex was a huge problem in our relationship, and I just had a real hard time admitting that it was my issue. The sad, sad irony is that my last two boyfriends were skinny. And it just felt like something was missing. Like 50 lbs. I never thought you were my type, and now I only go for J-shaped guys.

I’m sorry I blamed you for dumping me. I’m sorry I was so hard on you.

Now, I hope you realize I’m not trying to heal you, and I’m not trying to just make myself feel better. And I realize that what you blog is for the sake of writing itself, and not a cry for help, or a blatant emotional spew, or an attempt to make ex-girlfriends feel guilty and that you don’t really expect or want a response from said guilty ex-girlfriend. And I don’t really mind being misrepresented. Or painfully accurately represented, because that’s more what it looks like. But pleeeeez can we be friends again? I still think youre brilliant. I really miss you. Talk to me please.

Kisses,

Fat-hater-Sarah

I smoked a cigarette. Just one. Henri said that I had to keep wearing the patch and throw way all of my other cigarettes so I did. I am still a non-smoker. An ex-smoker. I hate this more than anything I have hated in my whole life. Quitting. Starting. I hate all of it.

I am putting on a regular T-shirt and going to see Scott Biram. And not smoke.

I’m fat. Not fat like that guy in that movie Seven or even fat like John Goodman but if I lost 30lbs people would say to me all day, “Wow J., you look really good.” I even had a girlfriend once tell me that she was more attracted to me when I wasn’t so fat. Her name was Sarah. Sarah did not want to have sex with me because I was fat.

I heard a story once about a fat guy who was getting on a plane and as he sat down next to some skinny lady and said, “I’m sorry I’m so fat.” I used to be a drunk, too. When I would get really drunk and obnoxious and embarrass Sarah I would say to her in my best fat guy voice, “I’m sorry I’m so fat!” or alternately, “I’m sorry I’m a fat fuck!” This made her feel like a bad girlfriend and I liked that.

I had a new girlfriend (I have since misplaced her) who didn’t think I was fat. Her name was Sarah too but she did want to have sex with me. We’ll call the old Sarah fat-hater-Sarah and the new Sarah fat-lover-Sarah. It might get confusing otherwise.

Fat-lover-Sarah and I went to the fancy pants J-Crew outlet store in San Marcos and because I was so excited that she was a fat lover I bought the wife beater tank tops that I had always wanted but never bought because fat-hater-Sarah traumatized me.

That was a month or so ago and I wore my J-Crew wife beater tank top out in public for the first time today. It’s Texas and it’s August and it just seemed appropriate fat or not. I also quit smoking five days ago and am wearing an unseemly nicotine patch on my shoulder hidden by your regular T-shirt but bold and pronounced in my J-Crew wife beater tank top.

I’m going to go back to my regular T-shirts tomorrow.