First I want to post the most recent photo I have of myself:
It’s a candid shot, which is the best way to photograph me. I don’t pose well. I don’t come from a family that took photos very regularly so I am vaguely uncomfortable with the whole process.
I like that it’s a natural expression for me. This is what I look like. I wonder what I was laughing at.
But I look at it, and I see 2 things: how plain I am and how fat I am.
I mean, fat. Yep, I weigh 275, so I’m not skinny. But I forget that my body is as big as it is, especially when I am so hungry so often. I mean, look at those arms! I got Hulk Hogan‘s 22 inch guns without the firepower. I get tired of people telling me “you’re not fat”. That’s not what my doctor says. And it’s not what my experience of my body says. Oh, yeah, and it’s not what my dating life says.
I am also plain. I don’t mean ugly, but not pretty. I know this from my dating life too. I am the girl who hears, “I’m a great guy, introduce me to your friend, because pretty girls don’t see what a great guy I am because I’m not handsome.” Well you know what buddy? You’re treating me the way you say you get treated. I don’t think you’re so great.
I am so tired of being single that a guy friend of mine bought me a soda, and I spent an hour wondering if it “meant something”. Well of course it doesn’t, it was just a friend picking up the tab. I’ll get it the next time. No big.
I do get an offer from time to time, but they are mostly from people I know in open relationships. It’s flattering in a way, I mean it’s flattering when someone is interested even if it’s not reciprocal. But most of them, well, I don’t want to be your bit on the side, I want to be someone’s person. I’m holding out for being special to someone.
It’s been 10 years since someone asked me out on a date. That’s a long time. It wears me down in a way, to know I’m not special to anyone. I’m a great gal, says my married friend C. Yeah, I am, but who knows it? Or maybe, who appreciates it? I’m not pretty enough for my wonderfulness to be noticed.
So maybe when I have money again I’ll join a gym. I miss working with weights and that’s much easier for me at a health club than it is at home. But it makes me sad that I am somehow not good enough as I am.
Why not me? But apparently, not me.