I’ve always been at least a little bit fat. Nowadays I’m very fat, am getting fatter, and not only do I like it a lot, I actually get off on it.

I know it’s counter-intuitive to what most of us know and understand. Fat is something we fear and avoid at all costs. If we aren’t fearing it, we simply “accept” it. I, on the other hand, embrace it with growing-ever-wider, jiggly open arms.

This particular kink is known as feedism (or feederism). I prefer “feedism” because “feederism” falls pray to the same problems that the discourse usually does—in most people’s minds, it all revolves around the feeder (the one doing the feeding or encouraging), completely forgetting the fact that the feedee (the one eating or getting fatter) exists and has agency in the dynamic.

Feedism won’t be a new concept to many of you. You’ve surely heard of Donna Simpson, the woman who wanted to be the fattest in the world. There’s definitely been several Jerry Springer episodes dedicated to the concept, and I am pretty sure Dr. Oz won’t shut up about it.

It’s something I learned terminology for when my high school girlfriend showed me a magazine article about feedism. The article described seedy gatherings where men would coerce women into stuffing themselves silly. The women seemed like helpless victims. I didn’t identify with it at all. I was definitely not into feedism, even though my me and my girlfriend’s sexual encounters usually involved tubs of ice cream and gentle feedings of Oreos.

As I grew older, I became more curious about my proclivity toward fat and food. I found online forums, where I made friends and talked both intellectually and dirty to others who shared my interests. Within this time, for reasons having nothing to do with my kink, I gained over 100 pounds. I’ve enjoyed it and feel sexier with every pound. I love my rolls and crevices, and I love looking at other women’s unique, large bodies.

Sometimes I feel like I lead a dual life. I lead my everyday life where I am known as body and sex positive and healthy. I love yoga, hiking and summer salad. And then there’s my other life that few people have been privy to see.

I love eating very caloric, rich foods and I practically squeal with glee if I see the numbers on the scale climb. I like being called piggy, requested to oink and being accused of being gluttonous and lazy.

For the longest time, I thought these two lives would always be at odds, mutually exclusive from each other, and part of me thinks that maybe they will continue to be. I’ve even overheard a fat acceptance hero of mine discuss how disgusting and terrible she thought feedism was, how it’s victimizing and hurts the movement. I sheepishly nodded along as she spoke.

I guess I don’t fully understand what the resistance towards feedism is. It angers even some of the most-sex positive folks. A simple Google search on the subject brings up many results of people emphasizing a dirty underbelly (no pun intended) of feedism that revolves around non-consensual activity. You would think that this kind of behavior is the entirety of the feedism community. But as a very enthusiastically consenting member, I call bullshit.

Most public conversations about feedism frame it as though the feedee is some kind of helpless victim who is being bullied into eating. This is not the case with most feedism dynamics. It’s rings pretty misogynistic to me to assume that a woman (feedees are typically, though not always, women) who might be into eating a lot of food and getting fat must be being “tricked” into it.

Why is it impossible for us to imagine someone getting pleasure from this? To me, that reeks of unchecked fat phobia.

To start, the taboo in and of itself is sexy. It’s not news that some people get off on things that would otherwise make them feel shitty or uncomfortable. It can be empowering. For me personally, it has made being fat something I celebrate instead of something I hate myself for.

Accepting and loving my fat and my kink has made me overall much healthier mentally.

It’s also not fair to paint a picture of every feeder as some sort of predator. I’ve had very fulfilling, long-term relationships with feeders and several many-years-long online friendships with others all across the country. They’ve been some of the most important people in my life. They’ve brought me a lot of joy and love.

All of them had the same pitfalls and strengths as my non-feeder partners. All of them have been extremely respectful of boundaries. Communication is something some people needed to learn, and something others excelled at. They were able to discern reality from fantasy, and understood that our kink and consent is something that constantly needs to be discussed and negotiated.

Does that mean every feeder is perfect? Not at all. There’s a lot of people out there who are gross and try to make things happen without consent, or even get off on the idea of non-consent. They try to pressure feedees into doing things they don’t like, and they pick on their insecurities to get them to do it. That behavior, however, is not exclusive to the feedism community. The truth is that I have had my boundaries crossed a lot more outside of my experiences with feedism.

There’s also a lot of concern-trolling surrounding these public conversations about feedism. I am fully aware of the risks I take by eating to excess, and I probably understand nutritional science a lot better than you do because of my sexual interest in it. I am, however, a fully grown woman who is capable of making decisions that are right for me.

Plenty of people who are gaining are very conscientious of their health. They get their blood sugar and cholesterol screenings regularly. They make adjustments or stop altogether if they feel their health is in danger. Some of them make sure to get exercise and keep their muscle mass up.

Or they don’t. Some people are not as healthy about it. And that is a personal decision, not a reflection on the community and kink at large, and probably not anything that you really need to have an opinion on. The truth is, most of us feedees are plenty intelligent and have plenty of sexual agency. To assume otherwise is, well, presumptuous and insulting.

So I’ve done a lot of talking about what feedism isn’t, but what about what it is? For me, a feedist relationship is the highest form of intimacy I’ve ever experienced. It’s more meaningful than regular sex ever will be because I am putting myself into a profoundly vulnerable position. The kind of trust that partaking in a taboo kink creates is unlike anything I’ve experienced. Having my body worshipped also does things to me I cannot describe. It’s a powerful, wonderful experience.

I’ve had a lot of sex in my life, with many, many partners. There’s not a lot I get shy about anymore. But I still get giddy and shy about eating food in front of someone (in a sexual context, anyway). I still get butterflies when my belly is rubbed and I am encouraged to eat that next bite I want so much. It’s also something that can be dirty and humiliating and embarrassing because that might be how I want it to feel in that moment. Sometimes I may even like it to feel predatory, but like with any other type of sex, consent must be given.

I am a fat woman, and I derive real pleasure from feedism. My pleasure is no more or less valid than anyone else’s. I prefer to fuck men or women who don’t think I am sexy despite my fatness, but think I am sexy because I am smart and funny and yes, because I am fat and I am crazily turned on by the idea of getting fatter.

So I don’t expect most of you to understand feedism, and I definitely don’t expect any of you to be turned on by it. I don’t care if it’s what gets you off or if it makes recoil in disgust. All I hope is that if you do encounter articles or discussions about feedism, you can understand that some of us get real pleasure and experience real empowerment and happiness from it—we are not victims.

This article originally appeared on xoJane.