@ Indian Creek Correction Center in 2025
“La La, will you take her out on a date?” one of my homeboys asked me of a plus-size Hispanic female in a photo. “What?!” was my first response. I thought it was a trick question because people who knew me already know this answer. My homeboy asked me again. “Damn right!” I said with conviction. Another one of my homeboys who was standing around us said: “I told you, bruh. La La loves big girls.” My homeboy smiled then shook his head in disbelief.
I’ve always been a chubby chaser for as long as I can think back. As matter of a fact, my first puppy love crush was a White girl name Lauren. I still remember it as if it was yesterday. When I was about 7 years old, I went to Skateland – an indoor skating rink in Richmond, Virginia – with my big brothers and their crew. On the carpeted sideline of the wooden-floor rink, my brothers were surrounded by a crowd of teenagers as they danced. I always thought my brother, JeMario, was the best dancer alive, even better than the legendary Michael Jackson. I stood alongside some of my brothers’ groupies and watched my brothers entertain their audience.
After my brothers wrapped up their side show, I saw a tall, big, curvaceous girl standing by a nearby bench, guffing around with another girl. With her blue eyes and dirty blonde hair relaxed her chest, I was instantly and naturally attracted to Lauren.
Not to my surprise, my brothers knew Lauren and had told her I liked her. “You’re my girl,” I said. I knew I didn’t have no chance of her being my girlfriend, but in my rare adolescent mind, she was my girl. She blushed then said, “And you’re going to be my little boyfriend, okay?!” Like a child getting his favorite candy bar, I excitingly nodded my head “okay” and smiled from ear to ear, exposing all of my teeth and deep dimples.
“Awww … you’re so cute,” she said then grabbed my hand and took me to the rink. While the DJ played the couple’s skate song “I Swear” by All-4-One, I held on tight to Lauren’s hand as we scrolled around the rink.
Despite me being about 10 years younger and maybe the weight of one of Lauren’s thick, wide legs, I felt like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. I was still a very young virgin, so my intentions wasn’t sex at all. After she gave me the couple’s skate, Lauren, who was big enough to squeeze the breath out of my frail, lightweight body, gave me a hug. “You better find me when you turn 18,” she said then planted a kiss on my left puffy cheek.
“I have a few physical preferences, and plus-size women is one of them. I am greatly attracted to a thick, curvaceous woman,” I explained to my homeboy. There were individuals, of course, whom used to always question my preference. “You look like you’re used to Ms. America, don’t-want-to-break-a-nail types of women,” my then-girlfriend, who was a big and curvy woman, said. “If only she knew,” I laughed privately in my head. I know what I want and what makes me happy. Plus-size women are in my scope; it is what it is.
Along with many other experiences that hinted my preferences, it was solidified after I betrayed my fiance for her childhood best friend. About 7 years ago, I linked up with my co-defendent’s little sister. “I’ve always been crazy about you,” Stacy said during a contact visit. I had no idea Stacy had hidden feelings for me because I never paid her attention. Although she was pretty with a Coke glass-bottle figure, I didn’t deal with girls younger than me prior to my incarceration. When she reached out to me, however, I gave it a shot and we got engaged. Stacy was an outspoken, thorough woman. She was for me and did any and everything I asked of her – even if it meant her serving time with me. Instead of loving Stacy for loving me, I took advantage of her. I didn’t deserve Stacy, for she deserved better.
Despite her pretty face and model physique, I wasn’t all that attracted to her. “Your fiance is bad as hell,” was what dudes would say when they saw her in my photo gallery or hugged up on me in the visitation room. “She’s cute and has a nice little butt, but …” I thought as I shook my head in confusion. Stacy’s physicality was not fulfilling, and I wanted more, even if that meant me emotionally wounding her.
However, my affair with Stacy’s best friend, Barbara, was the icing on the cake; whereas, I realized I couldn’t be with anyone other than my preference. Every time I received a face-to-face visit or a photo attached to an email on jPay from Barbara, my void of satisfaction was filled, and replaced by strong arousal. The sight of Barbara, who was a 5-foot-8, caramel complexion, plus-size woman, in front of me painted a kool-aid smile on my unfaithful face. With my hands full of her big butt-tocks, I would try to push my tongue down her throat. We kept our relationship a secret until my boiling gut erupted a torching confession. “Did you kiss her?” Stacy asked me with tears sliding down her flawless brown skin.
Feeling like a piece of crap, I couldn’t continue to crush her with a lie. “Yeah,” I said before she raised up from her chair and walked out of the visitation room. As I sat alone and embarrassed, I thought about the root of my actions. Because of my manipulation, lust, lack of courage, omitting my preferences, disrespect, and outright dishonesty, two beautiful women were deeply heartbroken and wounded.
Unfortunately I can’t change the wrong I’ve done to women, but I can make sure that it never happens again, which starts with having a preference. Knowing what you like and don’t like is growth. When one gets what he knows he likes, how can one be dissatisfied, especially if her heart matches her beauty. “Big girls need love too,” I lectured to my homeboy as I made the shape of a heart with my hands. #Gorditas