HORNY? Come to San Francisco, Somebody's bound to fuck you..

Posted on 11/21/2014 by Daddy Will

I've been living in San Francisco just two months shy of 18yrs. Life is different here. It's truly a parallel universe in so many ways. San Francisco really allows a person to let go, to be themselves, to reinvent, recreate, repackage, and re-label themselves at any time. Not only are your attempts to reinvent yourself tolerated but friends and strangers alike, the are quite generally embraced and supported by friends and strangers alike. I moved from Miami, which at the time had some pretty rigid criteria in regards to the aesthetic that a gay man aspired to in order to be active on the singles' scene and be sexually viable. Youth was imperative, or at least doing your best to achieve the appearance of youth. Smooth, lean, muscular, tan, no easy feat for a 40yo man that's extremely hairy and loves Cuban food. Approaching 40 in Miami and SOBE, I had to own the fact that if I were to get laid regularly, it would most likely involve me getting a receipt for services rendered. However, I never dreamed that at the age of 50, I'd be the one with the card reader attached to my phone and issuing the receipts... Miami is truly the Magic City, But, San Francisco is where the seemingly impossibly becomes reality. San Francisco has prove to be a total 180 degree shift in reality and aesthetics. I've become the physical embodiment of all that I most feared. But, I've never been happier. In fact, I've gotten a bit too happy in my new found state of furry corpulence, I decided it was time to shift gears and seem a happy medium.

About six weeks ago I decided to implement a Plan of Action that would allow me to actualize and manifest a number of changes that I'd decided I wanted to realize in 2014.  I'd done a pretty realistic job of comprising the list last December, prior to the New Year.  My expectations were realistic and had to do with quality of life issues, involving commitments to health, home. relationship, shedding counterproductive manners of thought and behavior and adopting more productive habits.  With the age of 60 not that far off on the horizon, I'm pragmatically aware that I'm entering the third act of this presentation and now is the time give serious thought to the final curtain and the impression I leave behind.  Drama, tragedy, comedy?  While fare from being omniscient, the choices I make today certainly have some bearing on the results, if nothing more than my own attitude regarding the proceedings.

So far the results have been pretty rewarding, and not nearly as difficult as I'd anticipated.  I'm a man that loves instant gratification, a trait which is the birthmother or procrastination.  But, I've found that by making a plan and remaining committed, not only am I able to accomplish my goals in a timely manner,  but am also granted some sense of satisfaction regarding my small triumphs.

At 5'5" & 202lbs, I had gone beyond "Beefy" to being what I refer to as "O'Beef" and by medical standards may be considered Morbidly O'Beef.

This was not damaging my self-esteem in regards to my physical presence. I'd come to enjoy being able to claim my weight at a nice round 200lbs. My protruding belly actually offered a semblance of counter-balance to what had always been a protruding bubble butt.  Given the laws of physics I suppose I was in some manner proportionate, maybe not ideal for a human, but at least for a game of Jenga.

I'm a product of the Disco era, a epoch where the aesthetic of being rail thing and having a tan-line was all that was necessary to render one FABULOUS as a gay man.  Then shit happened and by the mid-80's, thin was no longer in.  A gay man was expected to go to the gym and gain some muscle. So, I went.   For twenty years I felt fairly confident in my body as long as my shoulders were wider than my hips and I could see my dick.  As my mid 40's approached, I lowered the bar a bit,  deeming myself a success as long as my shoulders were wider than my hips and you could see my dick. Then my 50's came on with a vengeance and I dropped all standards, abandoned any desire for proportion, and figured if you could at least find my dick I was ahead of the game.

It's tough to be overly concerned when you're still getting laid regularly despite your growing girth, but in a city like San Francisco, a one-eyed  chick with a peg leg and a cesarean scar can start her own fan club.  Just as living for 20yrs in Miami had nothing to do with living in the United States, living in San Francisco has nothing to do with living in the real world.

I'm convinced that the Chamber of Commerce and Board of Tourism should adopt the slogan; "COME TO SAN FRANCISCO, SOMEBODY'LL FUCK YA!"

Seriously, we embrace all sizes, shapes, extra appendages, and lack thereof.

I get plenty of attention being a "daddy bear with a furry belly."  But, when that belly is crying out for a kickstand, it may be time to do something.  I'd reached the place where I could stand naked in a monsoon and not get my dick wet.  I had developed an awning that rendered my cock impervious to any act of nature and possibly the threat of nuclear attack.

So, I finally decided that enough was enough.  I'd had two years of elimination diets, JJ VIrgin, Paleo, Whole 30... At one point or another I had ostracized and excluded any number of food groups from my day to day existence.   I felt good, I was less bloated when I laid off the gluten and grains, but my penis remained something to be seen in the mirror.

On October 7th, I just decided that I was going to go to Weight Watchers.

I'd had great success with WW about a dozen years ago when my now husband and I went together. At that point I had allowed myself to get all the way up to 162lbs, 17lbs above that I then considered my maximum weight.  I simply wanted to lose 17lbs so as to fit into size 30" waist jeans again.  I did it!  In fact, I went out and bought several new pair of size 30" jeans and was able to wear them and actually button them, for nearly two weeks...

But, my love of food took me back to 162lbs and added on another 40.  This time I went to WW with the objective of losing 22lbs. I honestly have no desire to be thin. I like the new fuller bodied me.  I don't want to go below 180... I like my thick body, I even like having a bit of a belly. But, I don't like that bending over makes me so short of breath that I need scuba gear to tie my shoes.  GIven my druthers, I'd probably wear CROCS, hell, add on a fanny pack and get a tattoo that reads "Abandon all hope, ye that enter here."

But, I the truth is, vanity is as important to me as health.  I'm a very shallow man....


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