Curiosity got the best of me and I reactivated an online profile on the freebie site for a couple of days. A friend of mine was either reactivating, or joining a site and it got me thinking that perhaps I had been too haste in my closing of my own account. (I wasn’t by the way, but I’ll save that for another time.) I looked thru the profile I had and wondered if I should tweak it here or there. Nothing had really changed. Well, outside of my Pollyanna-like enthusiasm waning.
I read the summary and shortened this or that. Then I came across the detailed section. This is the area where you usually put your Age, and your Location. If you Smoke or Drink. Lastly they have an area for Body Type.
This is the area that constantly stumps me. I don’t wonder what to put for Smoking, which vacillates back and forth from Social Only to Like-A-House-On-Fire. Neither does the Drinking that spans from On Occasion to Where-Is-The-Local-AA-Meeting? Nope. For me it’s the body type, which has for the most part has stayed consistent for a good twenty years or so. You’d think that after 20 years of having this same body I’d have a type down by now. And if by consistent one means increasing in the exact same manner, in the exact same places that is. But here’s the deal. They don’t have a true an accurate description for my body type.
I am most certainly not: Thin, Athletic, Toned, or Slender. I was. I grew up that way, had a kid and regained that look. I used to think I would eventually get back there, but today? I couldn’t find the entryway to that world if you tied my wrist to the doorknob. I think because I never battled weight in my childhood, teens or early twenties that it always seemed plausible I would head back there. Like I was just visiting Chubbyland with a temporary pass, and was adamantly denying you indoctrinate me into your Fat Club.
How does that Hair Club for Men saying go? I’m not just a client, I own the damn place?
I do not see myself as : Curvy, Rubenesque, or Voluptuous. That requires as the word states, Curves. While God blessed me with decent sized taa-taa’s, he gave me little to no derriere. No one has ever, or will ever ask me if I have junk in my trunk. While the formation of no ass was going on, it was decided I wouldn’t need a waist either. I didn’t used to mind this. The small ass had its benefits with fashion off and on thru the years, but the lack of waist? It has most decidedly formed my hatred for jeans. If they fit in the waist they swim in the ass, and if they fit in the ass, I look like an exploding can of biscuits.
So — I’m too Big for Small and too Small for the Big Girl Lovers. They don’t have online descriptions like; Shoulders-Like-A-Line-Backer. Built-Like-A-Brick-Minus-The-House. Lately I found that when you buy yourself a case of Pre-Menopause you get a free belly to go with it, but no description for that either. Nearly every ounce of fat I have, had a secret meeting and decided for the rest of my life it was living the high life, front and center. Problem was no one told me, and I woke up to it one day attached to my middle, wondering where the hell it came from.
Did you know Fat laughs at you? Mine does. I digress.
This usually leaves me with the two choice descriptors, Could Stand to Lose a Few Pounds vs BBW. I’d place myself in the former category, because it most truthfully describes me. Could Stand to Lose a Few Pounds. Why do I feel like a used car? Why do I picture a guy, looking me over, kicking my thighs with his toes, hand in that thoughtful pose stating, “Well I dunno, she could use to lose a few of these pounds. I’ll give you half of what you are asking.”
I am immediately damaged goods.
The truth is, that is the description that most closely fits me. I hate it. I feel it’s vague. There is nothing appealing about it. Technically it should say Could Stand to Lose A Lot of Pounds, but who am I to quibble over an Adjective? Few .. Lot .. Potato … Potahto. Is it bad that I hate to start out the gate with that? I feel like the handicapped horse at a race. Am I worth the gamble?
Recently I watched a comedian on some TV show. He talked about when people meet online, and then decide to meet for real, in person. When Men meet a Woman online, they think to themselves, “Please don’t be fat, please don’t be fat, please don’t be fat.” When Women meet a Man online, they think “Please don’t be an axe-murderer, please don’t be an axe-murderer!” Which shows you where the priorities lie between the sexes. Fat is as a bad to a man, as being killed is to a woman.
In reading this, some might think I have body issues, or self-esteem issues. Actually, I’m pretty confident and well- adjusted to who I am. I gave up on the idea of ever fitting into a size 7 years ago. I know I have sex appeal. I know I have options. I’d love to wake up and have the pounds magically gone, but that isn’t my reality. Hell, I had a gym card in my wallet for a year, and it stayed there, until I had to do budget cuts and decided it was an expensive card to have to just sit there doing nothing. The honest truth is I love cheese and bread and cocktails way more than I would ever enjoy sweating. Curling up with a book is a ton more appealing than curling weights. Some days are good and some days not as good, but I think I’m pretty accurate on assuming thin folks go thru the same.
What I’ve come full circle to, is that if finding the accurate description is as difficult as it seems, then problem isn’t me. It’s the damn site. That’s what the deactivate button is for. Poof, I am no longer the gal who needs to lose a few pounds, I’m just me.
Denial. It’s not just a river in Egypt, folks. 😉