“Come to the BBW party”.
“The WHAT?!”
“Come to the BBW party. It’s a party for women of size.”
“Uhhhh…?”
The “Uhhhh” was me. The party invite was from my friend Tara. We met, digitally, on some chat room (when chat rooms were THE place to meet new people). We transferred our chat room bond to Yahoo’s then brand-new Instant Messenger system, where we remained great friends who’d never met in person. Tara was funny, smart, and really easy to talk to, which is why we talked often via Instant Messenger.
After a loooong week, I was looking for something to do that coming weekend. There were a few spots that I’d hit up in my small, Midwestern town. But, I was itching to try/go somewhere new. I was 31 years old and single. Too old to go to the younger “hot” spots, but way too young to stay at home. I relayed my dilemma to Tara.
Which is when she invited me to the BBW party.
My reply to her question was “What’s a BBW party?” She explained to me that they were parties for bigger women, and the term BBW stood for Big Beautiful Woman. They were parties where these ladies could dance and have fun without the possibility of social ridicule. She told me that the parties were fun, and that usually they were packed.
My reply? (From the mouth of a college educated man, no less): “I’m a little guy. Will I be welcomed there?”
Tara paused before typing her reply. “Yes Greg. You’ll be fine.” I thought about my schedule for that weekend. It was wide open. I then told Tara that I would go. The party was actually only a few miles from where I lived at the time. I asked Tara for the party’s location so I could MapQuest it (hey, it was 2003), and then wrote down her number, just in case I had any other questions. At that point, me going to the party was a “go”.
♦◊♦
Full disclosure: My ex-fiancé, who I’d just broken up with a few months before the party, was a bigger woman. But, the woman I dated briefly soon afterwards was a small woman. My personal code when it came to dating women was to like who I vibed with, regardless of size. I’d never had a size preference.
However, this party I was going to was going to be populated by women of a certain physical type. I’d never been in an environment like that before. As with most writers, my imagination ran wild. Would it be a gathering of sad sack big girls (I was thinking here of stereotypes I’d seen in TV and movies)? Would they be man-hungry and desperate (Again, “Hey Hollywood, thanks for the preconceptions!”)? What about the men who would go? Would they be bigger men, and would they want to pick a fight with me for being small? My mind boggled.
Party Night came. It was a cold February night. Actually, it was a cold and dangerous February night. Southern Ohio got smacked with an ice storm the day before the party. The ride to the party was a slow one, for the roads in my town weren’t completely ice-free. Thankfully, I made it to the hotel where the party was being thrown. Once I found a parking spot, I called Tara on my cell phone. I was to meet her in the lobby once I made it to the parking lot.
I reached Tara, who told me she was in the lobby, and what she looked like. I got out of the car, nearly sliding across the ice covered parking lot, and possibly through the hotel lobby’s window. Tara’s first time seeing me was nearly on my back.
I entered the lobby, and finally met Tara face to face. I’d seen her picture online, so I had a strong idea how she would look. She was short, bespectacled, and curvy. And she had the warmest smile. We hugged, and then I told her about the horror story of me crossing the frozen tundra that was the streets of Dayton, Ohio. We shared a laugh, and then Tara invited me back to her hotel room. That was where her and her best friend were staying for the weekend, and it was where they were getting ready for the party.
“Hotel room?” That’s what I thought when Tara mentioned it. I couldn’t understand why someone would get a hotel room for a one night party.
Then I went IN the hotel room.
In the room, there were four women, including Tara’s then best friend. The women were all big. Curvy, full figured, thick, and heavy body types were all in that room.
And they were having a blast.
They were gossiping. They were laughing. They were loud. They didn’t have a care in the world. The scene was fun… and sexy. And boozy. There had to be five different kinds of liquor in that room. And those wonderful ladies offered me as much of it as I wanted.
After a few (okay, eight) shots of Jack, I learned more about these women. One was a realtor. Another woman was a nurse. One woman who briefly visited the room was a lawyer. Two were mothers. One was divorced. These ladies were just like their thinner counterparts in nearly every way. One of the few differences was that these parties were mini holidays for these women. A haven where they got to come to breathe and just be, away from the eyes of a cosmetically obsessed world.
After the girls got ready, we all headed to the actual party. It was held in a bar located inside of the hotel. Once I paid my cover charge, I entered this new world, not sure of what I’d encounter. But, if I learned anything from the lively hotel room pre-party, the REAL party would at the least be interesting.
It was great.
It was a blast.
It was fucking insane.
The biggest rumor surrounding BBW parties is that they can end up being sexually charged.That rumor is true.And it’s a great thing.
The next three hours was an explosion of electric sexuality, and punk rock bird-flipping at society’s rules. Here were the “fat broads” looking great, dancing like college sophomores, and flirting like sexpots. Full disclosure: The biggest rumor surrounding BBW parties is that they can end up being sexually charged.
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That rumor is true.
And it’s a great thing.
Why? Because thin women have the opportunity to flaunt their sexuality pretty much whenever and wherever they want. At a bar. At their jobs. In public. Anywhere. Women of size? They can flaunt their sexuality, but the chance of ridicule in a calorie/carb obsessed world is great. Imaging you are burning with an Elvis/Madonna-esque, volcanic sexuality… and you can’t show it. Because of your size. Sucks, doesn’t it?
Now, imagine you can go to an environment where you’re accepted. Where you are in a place of total comfort. Wouldn’t you let loose? Wouldn’t you let that sexual energy that’s been bursting at your seams OUT? THAT’S what happens at BBW parties. The image of desperate big girls running around at parties, begging men to sleep with them is erroneous. What’s correct is the freeing of a part of these women that’s been held back for too long.
As for the men at the party, it turns out the quite a few of them actually could have come from central casting (Again, waving at Hollywood). Many of the guys at the party were… well, hunks. I’d heard of the term “chubby chaser” from the women at the party. (The ladies nearly all HATED the chubby chaser crowd). That’s a nickname for a man with a fetish for big women. And they were in the minority. Most of the men there just wanted to be there for a good time with some cool ladies.
Throughout the night, I too, danced and partied with abandon. The atmosphere was so “rock ‘n roll” I couldn’t help but get wrapped up in it. I remember seeing a gay male couple dancing ON each other right next to me. It occurred to me that the only time these two men have probably ever done that in public was in a gay bar… I doubt they would’ve done that in a typical straight establishment. But, the spirit of freedom in the air that night was THAT powerful. On that night, that weekend, the heavy, black, geeky, rural, wiccan, gay people were the Beautiful People.
The next day, I woke up in Tara’s hotel room (Relax. Her best friend went home earlier the night before. There were two beds in the room, Tara slept on one, and I the other). And I was hung over. Like, bachelor party hung over. What’s funny, is five minutes after I woke up, Tara entered the room, having already showered and eaten breakfast. She was USED to these parties. I was the overwhelmed rookie. We talked for a little while, and I thanked her for inviting me to the party. I told her I would seriously consider going to another party, based on the fun I had, and the wonderful people I met at my first event.
I then hugged Tara, and stumbled to my car (The ice was gone, but not my hangover). Once I got in, I checked my phone, and saw several messages from people I met at the party. Some were brief, some were flirty. All of them were very, very nice.
In all honesty, that may have been the best party I’ve ever been to.