The Truth about Fat Chicks and Personal Ads
Tuesday, October 13, 2009 at 1:17pm
At forty-six years old, I've not only been around the block and back a few times, I've been down the garden path, up on the roof, under the boardwalk and seen paradise by the dashboard lights.
Understand that I'm not looking for a conventional relationship these days. I have no driving obsession to pick out china patterns, procreate or even cohabitate. (I love comedian Rita Rudner's old joke: "I want a man in my life, just not in my house.")
I'm not looking under bushes and cabbage leaves for any vaguely presentable human with a pulse to keep me from being lonely. There are many people in my life, and when they aren't around, I'm too busy to be lonely: reading, writing, painting, making jewelry... or wasting time on FaceBook running an imaginary cafe and plowing cyber-fields.
Nor am I interested in casual sex. That's not because I'm a prude or conservative, or believe that sex is bad unless you're "making love." It's because sex is so important, and so intricately part of who I am, that -- like ice cream and books -- I only expend the time, energy and calories on the good stuff, those experiences which truly engage my spirit and mind as well as body. After all, I am a modern woman with a drawer full of triple A batteries, if you get my drift. (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.)
If I'm just looking for physical release, I can manage that better than most men on my own just fine, with the added bonus of not ever having to fake it or sleep in a wet spot.
I am, however, keeping my eyes open for a particularly compatible person who might add something unique and enriching to my life. That's why I sometimes look at various personal ads on the Internet, just in case Mr. Pretty-Darned-Good-for-Right-Now happens along.
But I think I'm going to stop. It's too depressing. Oh, it's not just that so many of them are misspelled, grammatical nightmares. (I'm not expecting Faulkner, but geesh, is it so much to hope that high school graduates know the difference between "there" and "their"?) It's the prejudices these ads make so plain. Men who claim they are "open-minded, sensitive and caring" keep writing things like:
"I am seeking a woman with a slim or average figure with an open mind and outgoing spirit. Age or nationality has no bearing on a person's attractiveness. It's the mental age and heart within that makes the difference."
In other words, this guy wants anything female as long as she's not FAT.
I know, I know; you gotta be honest and ask for what you want, and I'm not putting anyone down for it, honest. Obviously those of us in this age bracket have figured out by now that if you don't ask for what you want, it's not going to just drop into your lap like a gift from heaven. If you are certain that no other possible combination of amazing qualities could ever overcome your lack of attraction to a body, then by all means, yes, be blunt and get it over with. Heck, you can write to Santa Claus asking for a life-sized Malibu Barbie, with a teeny-tiny doll-sized brain to match, for all I care. (Just keep in mind, between the ears isn't the only place Barbie is missing something.)
But suppose you found a woman who possessed Meg Ryan's adorable sweetness, Julia Roberts' smile, Jane Pauley's intelligence, Julia Childs' culinary skill, Princess Diana's grace, Joan of Arcadia's moral courage, Gilda Radner's sense of humor, and the heart of Mother Teresa. But this fantasy wears a size 16 or 18 or 22 instead of a size six. If you still wouldn't even consider having dinner with her, then just skip the rest of this article. But stop describing yourself as "open-minded, sensitive and caring," okay?
There are amazing women, myself among them, who are more...uh, shall we say, voluptuous than "slim"? Gravity, metabolism, Ben and Jerry's ice cream and my body have come to a truce at the age of forty-six.
And while I've made peace with the regrettable fact that Angelina Jolie inhabits the body I requested, it does become tiresome reading personal ads. Someone describes their criteria for Ms. Right (or even Ms. Right Now) and you are thinking, "Hmmm, that could be me; yes, yes, that's me..." until you get to their physical qualifications. (Insert obnoxious game show buzzer here.) Oh, too bad! Let's show this contestant our lovely parting gift!
I do envy people who can see a mere photo or set of measurements and say, "YES! I want to meet that person! That's what I'm looking for!"
For me it's much harder. Do I want to be at least mildly attracted to the physical package? Sure, I'm as human and shallow as the next person. If you could order a partner from some gigantic menu at Cupid's Intergalactic Dinner, I'd ask for a man with Brad Pitt's boyish good looks, Antonio Banderas' sex appeal, Dr. Phil's emotional sensitivity and sanity, Anthony Hopkins' voice, Dennis Miller's wit, Einstein's brain and Bill Gates' bank account.
But people aren't pizzas. Besides, looks are fleeting, attractiveness is subjective and beauty is often a subtle, mystifying blend of any number of qualities.
Let's be honest. Women -- and men, too -- know that their physical appearance plays a big part, sometimes the only part, in how other people see us. We're all insecure about something. Maybe it's a smaller than average penis or being short or balding. So many people, deep down inside, fear they are not really attractive enough. They worry their nose is too big, their teeth are too dingy. Even beautiful women worry that their breasts aren't big enough, or their butts are too big, or they won't raise their arms for fear of that tiny pocket of fat flopping around under their upper arm. American commercialism thrives on our insecurities.
Yet most women don't post ads saying, "Small penises need not apply" or "No bald men" or "If you have a huge nose and bad teeth, don't bother responding." Very few men would dare to advertise "Looking for a woman with huge knockers; A and B-cups need not apply." But people (generally men, sigh) are still saying that if you're fat, you're not worth even exchanging photos and an introductory email with.
And who decides what is fat, anyway? For some people in our thin-obsessed culture, being a half a pound over a size eight is "fat." For others, a size 12 or 14 is thin. And I know, having been a size eight and a size 24 and everything in between. Even now, I'm sure there is somebody out there who thinks, "Damn, if only I could fit into a size 24, I'd be thrilled; stop whining, you skinny wiener."
There are just so many other things I'd like know before deciding whether to invest the time in responding to someone's personal ad.
What they are passionate about? What books do they read, what movies make them laugh or cry?
I want to know what they would change about the world if they were God.
I want to know if they have a soul that is open to the entire spectrum of human experience and the courage to embrace it.
I want to know if they have the compassion to accept other people's frailties as well as their own.
I want to know if they can deal with disappointment gracefully; if they can win without gloating; if they have a genuine capacity for joy. I want to know they see the glass as half empty or half full -- or if they're the type of person who says instead, "Tell me what's in the glass first, and then I'll tell you whether it's half empty or half full."
At forty-six years old, I've not only been around the block and back a few times, I've been down the garden path, up on the roof, under the boardwalk and seen paradise by the dashboard lights.
Understand that I'm not looking for a conventional relationship these days. I have no driving obsession to pick out china patterns, procreate or even cohabitate. (I love comedian Rita Rudner's old joke: "I want a man in my life, just not in my house.")
I'm not looking under bushes and cabbage leaves for any vaguely presentable human with a pulse to keep me from being lonely. There are many people in my life, and when they aren't around, I'm too busy to be lonely: reading, writing, painting, making jewelry... or wasting time on FaceBook running an imaginary cafe and plowing cyber-fields.
Nor am I interested in casual sex. That's not because I'm a prude or conservative, or believe that sex is bad unless you're "making love." It's because sex is so important, and so intricately part of who I am, that -- like ice cream and books -- I only expend the time, energy and calories on the good stuff, those experiences which truly engage my spirit and mind as well as body. After all, I am a modern woman with a drawer full of triple A batteries, if you get my drift. (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.)
If I'm just looking for physical release, I can manage that better than most men on my own just fine, with the added bonus of not ever having to fake it or sleep in a wet spot.
I am, however, keeping my eyes open for a particularly compatible person who might add something unique and enriching to my life. That's why I sometimes look at various personal ads on the Internet, just in case Mr. Pretty-Darned-Good-for-Right-Now happens along.
But I think I'm going to stop. It's too depressing. Oh, it's not just that so many of them are misspelled, grammatical nightmares. (I'm not expecting Faulkner, but geesh, is it so much to hope that high school graduates know the difference between "there" and "their"?) It's the prejudices these ads make so plain. Men who claim they are "open-minded, sensitive and caring" keep writing things like:
"I am seeking a woman with a slim or average figure with an open mind and outgoing spirit. Age or nationality has no bearing on a person's attractiveness. It's the mental age and heart within that makes the difference."
In other words, this guy wants anything female as long as she's not FAT.
I know, I know; you gotta be honest and ask for what you want, and I'm not putting anyone down for it, honest. Obviously those of us in this age bracket have figured out by now that if you don't ask for what you want, it's not going to just drop into your lap like a gift from heaven. If you are certain that no other possible combination of amazing qualities could ever overcome your lack of attraction to a body, then by all means, yes, be blunt and get it over with. Heck, you can write to Santa Claus asking for a life-sized Malibu Barbie, with a teeny-tiny doll-sized brain to match, for all I care. (Just keep in mind, between the ears isn't the only place Barbie is missing something.)
But suppose you found a woman who possessed Meg Ryan's adorable sweetness, Julia Roberts' smile, Jane Pauley's intelligence, Julia Childs' culinary skill, Princess Diana's grace, Joan of Arcadia's moral courage, Gilda Radner's sense of humor, and the heart of Mother Teresa. But this fantasy wears a size 16 or 18 or 22 instead of a size six. If you still wouldn't even consider having dinner with her, then just skip the rest of this article. But stop describing yourself as "open-minded, sensitive and caring," okay?
There are amazing women, myself among them, who are more...uh, shall we say, voluptuous than "slim"? Gravity, metabolism, Ben and Jerry's ice cream and my body have come to a truce at the age of forty-six.
And while I've made peace with the regrettable fact that Angelina Jolie inhabits the body I requested, it does become tiresome reading personal ads. Someone describes their criteria for Ms. Right (or even Ms. Right Now) and you are thinking, "Hmmm, that could be me; yes, yes, that's me..." until you get to their physical qualifications. (Insert obnoxious game show buzzer here.) Oh, too bad! Let's show this contestant our lovely parting gift!
I do envy people who can see a mere photo or set of measurements and say, "YES! I want to meet that person! That's what I'm looking for!"
For me it's much harder. Do I want to be at least mildly attracted to the physical package? Sure, I'm as human and shallow as the next person. If you could order a partner from some gigantic menu at Cupid's Intergalactic Dinner, I'd ask for a man with Brad Pitt's boyish good looks, Antonio Banderas' sex appeal, Dr. Phil's emotional sensitivity and sanity, Anthony Hopkins' voice, Dennis Miller's wit, Einstein's brain and Bill Gates' bank account.
But people aren't pizzas. Besides, looks are fleeting, attractiveness is subjective and beauty is often a subtle, mystifying blend of any number of qualities.
Let's be honest. Women -- and men, too -- know that their physical appearance plays a big part, sometimes the only part, in how other people see us. We're all insecure about something. Maybe it's a smaller than average penis or being short or balding. So many people, deep down inside, fear they are not really attractive enough. They worry their nose is too big, their teeth are too dingy. Even beautiful women worry that their breasts aren't big enough, or their butts are too big, or they won't raise their arms for fear of that tiny pocket of fat flopping around under their upper arm. American commercialism thrives on our insecurities.
Yet most women don't post ads saying, "Small penises need not apply" or "No bald men" or "If you have a huge nose and bad teeth, don't bother responding." Very few men would dare to advertise "Looking for a woman with huge knockers; A and B-cups need not apply." But people (generally men, sigh) are still saying that if you're fat, you're not worth even exchanging photos and an introductory email with.
And who decides what is fat, anyway? For some people in our thin-obsessed culture, being a half a pound over a size eight is "fat." For others, a size 12 or 14 is thin. And I know, having been a size eight and a size 24 and everything in between. Even now, I'm sure there is somebody out there who thinks, "Damn, if only I could fit into a size 24, I'd be thrilled; stop whining, you skinny wiener."
There are just so many other things I'd like know before deciding whether to invest the time in responding to someone's personal ad.
What they are passionate about? What books do they read, what movies make them laugh or cry?
I want to know what they would change about the world if they were God.
I want to know if they have a soul that is open to the entire spectrum of human experience and the courage to embrace it.
I want to know if they have the compassion to accept other people's frailties as well as their own.
I want to know if they can deal with disappointment gracefully; if they can win without gloating; if they have a genuine capacity for joy. I want to know they see the glass as half empty or half full -- or if they're the type of person who says instead, "Tell me what's in the glass first, and then I'll tell you whether it's half empty or half full."
