Here I am, alone on Saturday night. I tried watching T.V., but got bored and so here I am writing this post. The thing about being a fat girl is that it can be a lonely existence. You’ve made it about you and food. That is your primary relationship. I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve dated men, but never have given them boyfriend status. A part of me has always been scared of that kind of intimacy. I’ve never known it on any level. Well maybe with friends, but I’m talking about the type of intimacy that you have when you’re in a relationship.

The funny thing is that I’m no longer afraid, but I’m alone. I mean I fantasize about a man who I probably will never get. I don’t know if it’s just boredom or if it’s legit. I can’t let the shit go. Maybe because this person liked me and I was a size 16 and I don’t think I’ll ever have that again unless I cruise the internet. Which is how I found him in the first place. I placed an ad on Craigslist because the internet was the only place where men were searching for a woman like me. It made me feel confident that someone could want me, just the way I am. It was in this environment that I met this dude. He responded to an ad I posted and after checking out his my space page, I found that we had everything in common. I’m scared that I won’t find that again, so that’s why I think I’m focusing so much on him.

When you’re a fat girl your options are limited. I hate going out to clubs because men ignore me or when they’re drunk they tell me I’m fine-you know the whole pretty face thing. Then I see fat girls with boyfriends and I get hope but then wonder how come it isn’t me. Am I defective? What was it about living in L.A. that got me laid more than living in Seattle? Maybe my whole vibe was different or something. To be honest I haven’t had sex in two years and my last partner was disastrous. I made a choice to be celibate, but now it’s killing me. These thoughts I’m having on dude are killing me. I’ve never been like this about anyone in my entire life and I just wish it would stop.

This entry was posted in American Culture, Body Image, Fat Girl, Standards of Beauty. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s