Size doesn't matter with love. M.C

43

After lunch, we went for a walk around the town, going into music stores and spending huge amounts of time looking at expensive, yet beautiful guitars.

Around 5 that afternoon, we went back to the hotel and Michael wanted me to put on a fashion show for him.

Outfit one: leather pencil skirt and crop top.

I check in the mirror before leaving the bathroom to show Michael.

Wow. I thought.

I looked harder.

The skirt brought my ass out more, along with my hips. It covered from just above my belly button to just above my knees.

I smiled. I felt beautiful. I loved how it looked on me.

I walk out to show Michael.

"What do you think? I think I look good."

"You look breath taking. That ass, those legs, them hips, fuck I don't understand why you hate body, you look so sexy"

I blush. "Well Michael, I quite like how I look in this."

The smile on his face gets wider.

"How do you feel?"

" I feel beautiful Michael. Michael I don't think I've ever felt like this ever."

"I'm so happy. Your accepting yourself." He says giving me a hug.

"Go try something else on babe." He smiles as I walk back into the bathroom.

I keep the crop top on and put on the jeans. I pick my blue plaid shirt and I put it on, keeping the buttons undone.

I walk out to show Michael, his eyes widen.

"Fuck you look good baby girl"

"Thanks." I smile.

After trying everything else on, there was only the lingerie set left.

I take everything off and put on the bra and undies.

I check in the mirror.

Yes I was big, but Michael thought I was beautiful.

I look at myself.

My big, Scarred thighs.

And huge jiggly belly.

Chubby cheeks.

And you can't forget my under belly.

But he liked that?

He somehow liked that I was alot bigger than him.

I didn't fully understand. Why did he pick the girl who can't shop in forever 21? The girl who spent the last 4 years of he life stuffing her face, crying and cutting herself. The girl who can't be lifted by him because of her weight.

But he says I'm beautiful. He says that he dosent care if I'm bigger than him. He can't keep his hands off me. He says that my size doesn't matter in our relationship.

He really does love me. He just wants me to believe him.

I walk out of the bathroom his jaw drops.

"What do you think?" I smile.

"I think your fucking beautiful. Wait here a second." He says as he goes to get something.

He comes back with his polariod camera.

We walk into the bathroom and in front of the mirror.

"Hold this." He says as he puts his hands around my belly and pulling my undies down that tiny bit, to see my underbelly.

We step back, to get both of us in the large hand basin mirror.

He was standing behind me, his hands grabbing hold of my belly, while my left hand held the camera, my other hand was down by his hand.

"You ready?" He asks me.

"Yeah."

"Okay as soon as I kiss you, take the photo. Ready? One, Two, Three, Now"

His lips press against mine and I click the button. We wait for the flash and then brake appart, waiting for the Polaroid picture to come out.

When it came out, it looked cute. It showed how Michael felt about my body, that he loved it.

"I love it." I smile, handing it to him.

"You look amazing." He smiles, kissing me again.

"Thanks." I smile.