I’m fat. I’m not curvy, thick or big-boned. I’m fat, and after seven years in a relationship, I am single and will eventually start dating. No matter how much anyone spouts out about body acceptance, I feel an obligation to post body pictures on any dating sites I’ll use.
I don’t think being fat is gross, but I’m aware that a lot of people aren’t into that body type. I’m not offended by whether or not someone’s attracted to me. I’m more concerned with accidentally catfishing someone.
I have purple hair and a nose ring, and my primary pictures include those so I look like a fun amount of “edgy” for anyone searching for adventure. My second picture is a sweaty, gross picture of me standing in front of Cinderella’s castle during the Disney Princess Half Marathon in February 2014. I’m in my running outfit and my fatness shows like a beacon of ripples and slick skin.
For people who swipe right on every girl on Tinder, they could end up with an accidental fat woman. In a “no fat chicks” dating world, I get it. I don’t want to end up with someone who smells like moldy cheese or with facial hair that connects with chest and back hair. We all have preferences, most of which aren’t problematic.
I feel a lot of self-imposed pressure to bring up my fatness early. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time or energy. I don’t want to get someone’s hopes up just to have them crash at the sight of cellulite. They don’t need to waste their time and I don’t want a purposeful ego blow.
Even more amusing than my own obsessive boundaries are the people who keep asserting that I’m not, in fact, fat.
“You’re not fat, you’re beautiful.”
“You’re just curvy. I’m not into fat chicks.”
They say that for their benefit, not mine. I know what I am, and I know what I’m about. I drink my coffee black, I drink Patrón on the rocks and I rock a size 16. They can’t handle being attracted to a fat woman yet.
I can be both. I can be fat and beautiful. I work to compensate for my size with my personality. I’m eccentric, and I fit myself into a cool model that I love. I love myself, and I’m confident. I no longer walk, I strut. Obesity and bright purple lipstick demands to be worn well, or not at all.
