The Inside Skinny

Earlier today, I posted that question on Facebook. I got a variety of answers. It was interesting to me to see who chose to answer it. I was pleasantly surprised at the depth to which some answered this question. As each notification came up, I tried to guess the answer that person might have before I read their response. I was trying to see if my perceived thoughts about whether they loved themselves gave me any insight into how they felt on this subject.

For those that answered in the affirmative, I asked an additional question, "What's the first action step a person should take toward loving themselves?" This is where my post started to veer off course. Don't get me wrong. I got some really nice responses such as, "Convince yourself that you are worth it." and " Soul Search...Do stuff that makes you happy!"

Generally, this is good advice. However, doing "stuff that makes you happy" is hard for someone that has no real hobbies or interests. Believing that I am "worth it" when almost every romantic partner I have ever had has proved otherwise, is going to take someone showing me I am worth it before I will truly believe it. That doesn't mean I am going to settle.

Where things began to go wrong, was when someone told me to stop being "desperate". Ouch. Harsh. Judgmental much? And completely wrong. Am I working at meeting people? Yes. Am I constantly trying to make connections with people in hopes of finding love? Yes. Am I willing to accept anyone as my partner? Absolutely not. If that were the case, then I wouldn't still be looking.

In the last 16 months, I have had profiles on 5+ online dating apps. I have talked to hundreds of people. I have been on over 50 first dates and met almost as many people in much less formal settings. If I were desperate, I would have settled at some point along the way. No one goes through that much effort and ends up still single if their only purpose is to have a body by their side.

Believe it, or not, there was something that hurt much worse than being called desperate. Several people reached out to me via private message. One to show she cared by offering to be there for me if I needed someone to talk to. That, I genuinely appreciated. Others suggested that if I exercised and ate healthier, that I could lose some weight and learn to love myself. That, made my heart ache. What kind of friend tells you that you cannot love yourself if you are fat?

When I was 15 years old, my own father told me that no man would ever love me if I was fat. What kind of parent says that to their child? A few months ago, a man told me that he wasn't interested in me because he was a skinny guy and therefore he liked to date skinny girls. WTF? Who put these ridiculous ideas into peoples' heads? Why do they insist on regurgitating these ideas to others? What happened to just loving someone because they are a good person?

I have been with all types of people. Younger. Older. Taller. Shorter. Bigger. Smaller. Muscled. Well insulated. Men. Women. Republican. Democrat. Independent. Simple. Sophisticated. Well educated. Well off. Poor. Long hair. Short hair. No hair. Facial Hair. Body hair. Black. White. Hispanic. Glasses. No glasses. Almost blind. Handicapped. I am, what I consider, the truest sense of open-minded about other people's appearance, back grounds and beliefs.

I understand that not everyone is that way. I don't expect them to be. I do, however, find it difficult to remain friends with people who are not open-minded. Can we be acquaintances? Sure. Will I be nice to you if our paths cross? Absolutely. And its not because I think its OK for you to try to make other people feel ashamed of who they are or who they love, but because I won't do the same in return.

Thirteen and a half years ago, I met a man that changed my world. He proved to me that a man could love me even though I was fat. He was nice and kind and gentle. He loved me and I loved him.

So, just a few months after our wedding, I had a gastric bypass. I think at my heaviest I weighed around 375 pounds. At my smallest, I weighed 190 pounds. I lost approximately half my body weight. And I was more miserable and insecure about my body than I had ever been in my life.

I didn't have my gastric bypass because I didn't like the way I looked.  You see, this man that I loved, well I loved every part of who he was, inside and out, but didn't find me attractive. He loved me in spite of my size. Even though it had been well over a decade since my father said those awful words to me, they were still floating around in my head. And I worried that someday he wouldn't be able to love me enough as a person to see past the unattractive outside.

Even the day that we renewed our vows, as I was getting dressed, all I could think about was the sagging skin on my stomach and thighs, the flabby arms and the weight I still needed to lose. I was standing in the mirror looking at someone half the size that I was last time I wore this dress, and I hated what I saw.

I had more confidence at 375 pounds than I did when I weighed less than 200. Why? Because no amount of confidence in the world can stand up to being rejected over and over by someone you love. I am not just talking about the man I married. It's not all on him.

It started with my father who should have loved me unconditionally but didn't. I tried to reach out and have a relationship with him several times in my adult life but he couldn't do it. He didn't bother to watch me graduate high school, he missed both opportunities to walk me down the aisle and to this day he is missing out on his amazing grandson. And so many things in between. He is a whole set of luggage in my baggage department and I am still working on how to throw him out. It has been 24 years since he broke my heart and I think a part of it will always be broken.

If you have read my previous blog posts, you know that I recently made a few connections. But the one that I connected with so well intellectually is now dating someone much smaller than me. And the one that I connect with so well physically isn't interested in dating me because we don't have enough in common. This just seems like more proof that finding someone that will want ALL of me isn't possible.

And even though I have matched with hundreds of men, who can clearly see what I look like, I still wonder if I will ever find love again. That doesn't mean that I don't feel confident about what I look like, it means I am not confident that there is a man out there that will find me attractive physically and also meet my high standards.

You see, just because I asked the question, didn't mean that I don't love myself. People in my life keep making the assumption that because I don't think anyone else will ever love me, that I don't love myself. I think I am just being realistic about this. But I am still looking for love, which also makes me kind of optimistic.

Like so many other parts of me, those two seemingly opposite perspectives are perplexing to most people that know me. But that is a blog for another day.