Some may find this shocking but in some ways, being the fat girl was more fun. There was no pressure. You could talk to someone and be funny and witty and there was never more than a hint of sexual undertone.
It was as if the layer of fat that covered my belly and thighs, at least eighty pounds of which I have lost, insulated me from the male gaze. That has changed and I am not entirely comfortable with it.
More accurately stated, I am downright uncomfortable with it.
So there lies the rub. To be thin, and in turn meet society's definition of "sexy", you have to give something up. That something is a certain freedom of being and existing. And, while I would not put back on the pounds, I do wish I could somehow escape that rub. No pun intended.
I want to be the thin, funny gal pal type, just like I used to be the fat, funny gal pal type. There are strategies I could use I suppose: dress more boyish, wear my glasses, pull back my hair, the list goes on. But why should I have to ugly it up to escape the unwanted attention?
And, I have to admit, in a weird way I do crave the attention. Do my contradictions make any sense?
In Vegas this weekend, I was sitting at the bar waiting for my friend to finish at the blackjack table. I fidgeted in my bar stool trying to pull down my too short sequined dress.
A guy sat down next to me and smiled and said, "Are you waiting for your sugar daddy?" I looked at him with a scowl and said, "No, I make my own money." His friends walked up shortly thereafter and handed him a hat to match their own green baseball caps. I looked over and gave a sarcastic smirk and said, "You looked better without the hat." His friend laughed and said, "Oh you're a funny girl."
I nodded my head and said, "Yes I am."