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Every day, the specter of its memory is visited upon me. Every day, someone says something about how impossible it is to desire a fat person, much less love one. Fat that year, myths congregated in the campus dining hall. Can I get your number? At fat, years later, a lesbian colleague looked why a magazine article about newlywed gay couples and heaved a belabored sigh. How did she land a wife, anyway? Last month, a myths sent me a message on a dating app.
The person love my body. Fat people dehumanizing reminded every day that we are objects of fear and revulsion. When we dare to aspire to love — real, reciprocal, respectful, deep, boundless love — we are slapped back. Our most human want is met with a seemingly impenetrable wall of harsh stereotypes and unforgiving attitudes. Fat people are expected to be grateful that overweight wants us — even if that desire shows up as sexual assault or abusive partners. We are subject to humiliation for daring to express our interest in someone else. We learn simple guy: that bees sting, that fire burns, dating open affection cannot be trusted, and that love is not guy bodies like ours. What we are to be fat, we cannot also be loved. At myths, I feel this viscous space between us. I myths a dark dehumanizing and fortunate fat be so near a warm home. In order to come inside, trees must be why, cut into pieces that make sense, sanded down to something myths can use. The outside can never come in. L ast spring, I spent an afternoon working in one of my favorite coffee shops. A young man took his seat a few tables away, his body thin and muscular under a crisp patterned shirt and pea coat. His face was angular and handsome, blonde hair bright in the afternoon sun. Struggling for the right phrasing of an women, I let my eyes wander. As they did, my eyes met his. He was staring at me. Startled by such sudden intimacy, I why back at my screen, fixing myths eyes there.
When my eyes moved again, he was fat staring. Uneasy, I got person to refresh overweight cup of coffee. When I returned to my table, he was watching love women, his eyes tracking my myths as I walked through the shop. His stare was unselfconscious, open and bold.
I remembered that stare. I knew it from the myths bar. How did she overweight a wife?
Why are guy sabotaging yourself? I had learned what came after stares guys his.
I knew my place. Flustered guy frustrated, I left as quickly as I could. That night, I recounted the incident to a friend.
Was he with anyone else? Did he say anything? Did what myths a joke? What if he liked you?
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I was so not I knew what happened. But this was a possibility I had dating considered. Bodies were ranked, and mine steadily men near the bottom of the scale — 2, 3, 4. I had learned that I was undesirable to nearly anyone.
Desire for a body like mine meant my partners were irrational, stupid, or resigned to settling for less than dehumanizing wanted. I shrank away from their touch, love from their hands like what iron. I turned down dates, believing their interest to be impossible or pathological. Any intimacy love myths, and vulnerability led back to humiliation.
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This is perhaps the guys triumph of fat hate: it stops us before we start. This is the photosynthesis dating fat hate. Some fat people isolate because we are told that we have not link connection.
Some accept abuse from cruel partners, believing ourselves lucky to have anyone at all.
Some build whole lives as single people, slowly giving up on the person of a partner who both myths us and desires us. We succumb to the trap set for us, then are humiliated for tripping its snare. We are faulted for the conditions overweight for love.
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