Bear with me — this post is pretty lengthy, but it has a happy ending (not the dirty kind, you pervs).
In my blog, I write a lot about my weight loss efforts, with the occasional post detailing my life as a fat girl — the difficulty in finding clothes in mainstream stores, the insecurities, the double chins, blah blah blah. Well, hold on, folks, because I want to tackle an always-fun topic (not): dating.
Dating is hard enough as it is, let alone when you’re carrying 100 pounds of flab.
I first tried the whole online dating thing about a year after I ended my five-year relationship. I had just gone through the typical post-break-up transformation: new hair, new 40-pounds-lighter body, new “I am woman; hear me roar” attitude. It was the first time I had been single since I was 15, so dating was a new (and utterly terrifying) experience for me. (Prior to the five-year relationship, I was with my high school sweetie for almost three years.)
Minor horror stories aside, I actually had pretty good luck with online dating. I met two guys off of eHarmony and wound up dating both of them (not at the same time, yo). One of the relationships even lasted about a year.
Then came the heartbreak.
Said boyfriend dumped me because, among other reasons, he “wasn’t attracted to [me]” anymore. I know, douchebag alert, right?
That break-up, in essence, broke me.
Unlike my five-year relationship, the end of which brought about a renewed passion in working out and dieting, this break-up did the opposite: I ate myself into oblivion. I sat, in a post-break-up stupor, and ate away my feelings. By the time I came to my senses (and had finished burning every picture of my ex and me), I had regained most of the weight that I’d worked so hard to lose.
I was ready to date again…as a fat girl.
This time around, I tried speed dating (fail). I tried set-ups (fail). I tried hanging out with an ex, a huge player who is in the army (DOUBLE FAIL). None of my failed attempts had anything to do with my size, which, at the time, was exactly what I thought was the issue. Finally, I bit the bullet and created a profile on Plenty of Fish (screw eHarmony). I made sure to include a full-body pic so guys could see that I did, indeed, have curves (and a fabulous ghetto boo-tay). Hey, chubby chasers are into that sort of thing.
In the course of a few weeks, I received a surprising amount of messages — mainly dick pictures, mind you, but a few legitimately nice notes. None of the guys grabbed my attention, though. Convinced I would die alone (and would subsequently be eaten by my cats), I was ready to give up, delete my profile and enter a convent.
Then came Drew.
When I first read his message, I was impressed that he had perfect grammar and could actually string together a coherent sentence (most of the messages I received were literary masterpieces like “heyyyy baby, sup?”). Secondly, he referenced things from my profile, meaning he put in some effort and actually read my entire profile. Third, he was really cute. Like, really, really cute. Totally my type.
After some reluctance, I agreed to meet him. I was terrified because I had put on more weight since my profile pic had been taken, and I didn’t want him to think I’d duped him by posting an inaccurate photo. Well, I won’t bore you with the details, but meeting him was the best decision I’ve ever made, hands down. One week later, he was my boyfriend, and a few months later, he moved in. I’ve never been happier.
When I entered the dating world as an overweight woman, I was terrified. My ex’s “I’m not attracted to you” comment had really damaged my self-esteem and was always lurking in the back of my mind, making it hard for me to believe that any sane man would want to date a fat girl. (That makes me really sad to write.) Thankfully, Drew restored my faith in men, and has been so supportive of the clean eating/healthy living lifestyle we’ve adopted together. He loves me for me, regardless of my size.
Well, that, and he loves my bootay.