So, in my last post, I said I’d found myself a boyfriend. We met online, and if anyone is a reader of the blog Fat Girl on a Date, you know that navigating the world of online dating is a feat in itself. It was here that I (or maybe I’ve read it somewhere, I’m not sure) came up with the term DWF: Dating While Fat.
DWF really ought not be such a revolutionary thing, but really, especially in the online arena, it can be the biggest hindrance in the world. Although most dating sites nowadays will give you a list of body types to describe yourself, most folks do not read said type, and then will IM/email you and ask you about your build. Or, in their profiles, they’ll have some tripe listed such as ” I prefer height/weight proportionate women” or “thick girls apply” or “well curved women welcome”, which is about as clear as the water in the Mississippi River. Now, I’ve touched on what “thick” kind of means before (we’d call them an “inbetweenie” here in the Fat-O-Sphere), but what in the mauve hell does “well curved” mean? I think I’m well curved. Does it then mean me? Or is there some level of curve that I’m supposed to adhere to? Who the hell comes up with these rules, anyway?
The dating website I was on at the time didn’t have those neat little classifications, so I took the time to write a disclaimer of sorts in the profile itself. It was pretty cute, and culminated with the words “I’m fat. Don’t want y’all to think I’m holding back anything.” Succinct and to the point, right?
Y’all, I cannot explain the level of crazy I got. Everything from the married teacher asking me to strip on camera to the Nigerian gentleman who wanted me to be his 2nd wife. In between all of that, I actually got some promising hits. We’d have amazing conversation/IM sessions, and then we’d decide to meet.
And then it would all go to hell. It wouldn’t be personality conflicts (ok, not always) or that my oddities were just too odd, but my body type would cause some kind of issue.
I think that most of these men expected me to be what I call “vanity fat.” You know, where I just say I’m fat but am really thin? Right. When they saw that I was, um, actually fat, it was a shock. And for some, it was indeed a problem. For example:
Dude: “Oh, I didn’t think you were really fat.”
Me: “Yeah. I am. Does this make you uncomfortable?”
Dude: “No, I just didn’t think you were really fat. Like, you know how you women are. Y’all exaggerate.”
Now, I’m sure y’all are aware he got ditched more for the “you women” comment than him having an issue with my fat, right? But that’s really my point. Why exactly is weight so damn important? For me, it’s just a descriptor: I’m tall, I’m brown, I have long hair, I’m fat. Whatever. Why does it matter?
I’m not sure I understand why it is that weight has such leverage over who we deal with. I’m more concerned with if a man has a rap sheet, jilted and slightly crazy ex-girlfriends, is misogynistic, lacks ambition…you get my drift. I need to be able to hold an intelligent conversation with a man. Whether the man is fat or not is the last thing on my mind.
My man knows that I adore Shakespeare, that I want to be a diplomat, a writer, and a cook, that my favorite color is blue, and how I got that heart-shaped scar on my belly. He knows I adore calla lilies and gardenias, and that I collect teddy bears. As an addendum, I happen to be fat. He doesn’t care. All he sees is my beauty, both inside and out.
And at the end of the day, if a man can appreciate me in my entirety, that’s all that really matters.