Worth Your Weight

May 25, 2008


Filed under: fat acceptance — worthyourweight @ 9:51 pm

What if I’d accepted his interest for what it was … genuine?

What if I’d pursued the possibilities?

What if he were my true love?

What if I hadn’t allowed fat-negativity to breed doubt and fear?



  1. Hmm…Do not regret what might have been…instead, be thankful for the wisdom you’ve gained. (It’ll still hurt like a bitch for a while regardless…Sorry for that much.)

    Comment by Lindsay B — May 25, 2008 @ 11:30 pm

  2. Holy shit, I am feeling this one. Thinking along the same lines tonight, regretting things that I didn’t say, ways that I didn’t response even when I wanted to, ways that I pushed him away, and wondering if it’s worth saying anything, to let him know that I like him and I want him in my life as more than a sometimes friend. I wish I knew the answers. I know this isn’t helping, but misery sure does enjoy company. “What if I hadn’t allowed fat-negativity to breed doubt and fear” I don’t think it is something we have ‘allowed’, but in now recognizing it for the bullshit that it is, we can change it. It isn’t easy, but I think it’s worth the battle.

    Comment by Lex — May 26, 2008 @ 12:22 am

  3. “What if I hadn’t allowed fat-negativity to breed doubt and fear” I don’t think it is something we have ‘allowed’, but in now recognizing it for the bullshit that it is, we can change it. It isn’t easy, but I think it’s worth the battle.

    You hit it right there, Lex. To say we “allow” something like that (and I think most of us have been through something similar at one point or another in our lives) is saying that we recognized it for what it was and still made a choice. We have a choice NOW to take control and not allow societal pressures to dictate how we feel about ourselves.

    I know I’ve done the same thing with my own husband. I just happen to be lucky enough that I married a stubborn man that wasn’t about to let me push him away because of my own self-esteem issues. Most people aren’t as observant as he is, and all they see is the pushing away, period.

    Comment by nuckingfutz — May 26, 2008 @ 2:59 am

  4. I’ve felt that way too. Lost opportunities can be painful. But, there’s never only one true love. Each one of us – even those who are unusual and don’t match up easily – will meet many people in the course of our lives who we could be happy with. The key is to figure out where we’re most likely to find people we can connect with, and to continually put ourselves out there. Risk is scary, but without risk, nothing changes. Rather than dwelling on the past, try doing something you find (socially) scary. Is there someplace you’ve been wanting to go or something you want to do that you’ve been putting off because you’re intimidated? Do it, or go there.

    Comment by deeleigh — May 26, 2008 @ 7:53 am

  5. Oh man, story of my life. Sorry that you are going through this babe but you know what? You can either let this hurt you or you can use it as a reason to never let it happen again.

    Comment by Michelle — May 26, 2008 @ 10:56 am

  6. I’m sorry too :( You know, being married a long time, my husband and I have sort of just been along for the ride with each other and I’m not forced to deal with that so much – but I *know* it’s right there. I do find myself thinking that if or when something happened to him, I’d never find anyone again. And part of that is most definitely because of my appearance – oh not just being fat, but other things too. Yes part of it is not being able to even imagine having anyone else, but part of it is, “No one would ever want me.” So yeah, this hits home for everyone, and I don’t think it’s something we had much control over – isn’t it what we’ve been pretty much told (and are still usually told) pretty much forever? How could we think any different until we feel it, and deal with it, and somehow fix it? Not that I have any wisdom on how to do that, but looks like you’re on your way to it.

    Comment by AnnieMcPhee — May 26, 2008 @ 3:33 pm

  7. I really appreciate all your comments. I was just in a blue place last night. I’d meant to post my thoughts in a more positive light — because that’s how I feel about it more often than not. It’d be great if someone currently struggling in a similar fashion could benefit from my very brief sharing of having gone through it.

    I think I’m in a better place now because it’s more of a “Why not?” Why not go for it? Life’s too short and opportunities are too fleeting to let fear and doubt rule. I used to think that one of the worst feelings in the world was rejection. Nope. Regret is much worse.

    Comment by worthyourweight — May 26, 2008 @ 6:08 pm

  8. I felt this way, once, this same regret.

    A man — cool, smart, funny, interesting, with a great job and a wealthy family — displayed an interest. I thought maybe he wanted sex, but certainly not a relationship. The fact that he came from money terrified me. The fact that he was working in a job where he met really famous people on a regular basis terrified me. How in the world, after all, could a fat, sometimes socially inept woman like me ever possibly make someone like that happy? The mismatch was too much to be believable, so I just refused to believe he was really interested. I contorted my thought processes to make it seem like he had ulterior motives: he just wanted to sleep with me but wouldn’t introduce me to friends, I’d think — until he introduced me to his friends. Or, he’s just being nice, like it’s the Fatty Affirmative Action In Relationships Brigade.

    I told myself so many things, all because I couldn’t believe someone would like me for me. Half the reason I thought he wasn’t for real was that he never suggested I go on a diet. He never made fun of my fat. He never analyzed my menu choices when we’d go to a restaurant. All my other boyfriends had done this, and more, and somehow, that made them more real. Because at least if they found me a little bit repulsive, that was genuine, because it was how I felt about myself.

    And when I moved across the country, and he kept talking to me, there wasn’t much way I could move back out for him. However, I suddenly realized: he still did want to talk to me. It made all the difference. I didn’t settle for men who wanted to judge me after that. I didn’t settle for people who would make me feel bad for living in my body. I ended up married — not to him, but to another person who never made me feel bad about being fat in a world that doesn’t like fat. And sometimes, that person who wanted a relationship with me years ago (it’s seven years ago, now) talks to me. He has regrets, too: he wishes he’d somehow been able to convince me his interest was real, but I know that if he’d called me pretty, or beautiful, I’d have just believed him less. The change couldn’t come from him. It had to come from me.

    Comment by Jeanette — May 28, 2008 @ 10:52 pm

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