To the men in my life that came before the “Mrs. Choate” part of it,
Hi, it’s me.
I might look a bit different to many of you from the last time you saw me.
(i.e.-I’m not fat anymore.)
(I also don’t have a red, swollen face and resemble Alice Cooper from snotting and crying my eyes out, either.)
(I tend to have a very hard time with goodbyes.)
Some of you have seen me more recently than others, but really, that doesn’t matter. All of you are still in my head and in some part of my heart. (Though, admittidly, some of you take up bigger, fonder spaces and have an easier resting place there than others.)
Today I thought a lot about all of you.
Each and every single one of you.
I actually think about you often. I think it is because of what I do. I’m a blogger, see. (I know, RIGHT?! Those of you who thought I was going to take Broadway or live my life singing in viking horns and a metal bra were wrong! Don’t feel bad, I’m as surprised as you are.) I spend a lot of time reading about different aspects of people’s lives and often the talk turns to people that have been significant to us or that were romantically involved with us.
Each of you has had your turn being dusted off, turned over and examined in my head.
Sometimes it is productive, sometimes it isn’t.
Some of you were wonderful, some of you were passionate, some of you were so hilarious that my sides STILL hurt from laughing with you, some of you were tender, some of you were tepid and dull and frankly, some of you were total assholes.
ALL of you have one thing in common.
You all thought I was beautiful.
Every. single. one. of. you.
I could see it, feel it and almost smell it on you.
You wanted me.
In some cases, you had me.
I know that many of you didn’t treat me nearly as well as I treated you.
Many of you didn’t deserve me, frankly.
But, I still love and cherish each one of you because when I was with you, you didn’t look at me like so many in the world did.
ALL BECAUSE I WAS FAT.
And not just a bit pudgy.
But you never stuck that label on me.
With each of you, when we were together and you looked at me, I saw nothing but appreciation (and in more than one case, sheer lust).
I felt SAFE from the hell I got from the other 80% of the world when I was with you. Our problems were from issues that often come when two humans merge, not because of some damn number on a scale.
I haven’t been a fat girl in almost 15 years, but I am still that girl. I still have memories, scars, recollections and pain sometimes. She is with me every single day and in a way, so are you. And that helps me more than you can know.
Because while I often have days like today, where I feel almost physical pain reading a jaw-dropping article full of bias, judgment and idiocy, I also remember the boy that always begged to see more of my body.
I remember the gentleman who loved me when I was 300 lbs and married me at 150.
I remember the poet that would write me love letters and address them all to his “hottie”.
I remember the sweetheart who begged to introduce me to his friends because he wanted to “show me off”.
I remember the man that whispered in my ear that he loved every single inch of me.
I remember the stud that picked me up and carried me across a river like I was a feather.
I remember the hero that asked a man to “step outside” for calling me a fat bitch in his presence.
I remember the awkward kid kissing me under a Christmas tree and saying that it was the best kiss of his life.
I remember the date that saw me in my size 18 homecoming dress and looked at me like I was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.
I remember my boyfriend saying, “She isn’t just pretty, she’s BEAUTIFUL” when the little girl sitting next to us on the bus piped up to him that, “Your friend is pretty!”. (I almost cried. Not just at the genuine sweetness in his reply but because the way that girl kept staring at me, I thought she thought I was hideous. Thus was my mindset at 18. Awesome, no?)
Every memory like this is treasured by me, no matter HOW we ended or why.
I want to say THANK YOU to each of you from the formerly ample bottom of my heart.
Thank you for really seeing me.
Because I was pretty fucking awesome.
(And I have news for you…I still am. ;) )
Hugs and kisses, (and good wishes that you still have full heads of hair*)!
*Added note due to people calling me out on this: If every man on this list lost his hair? Still good looking to me. Mr. Looneytunes is case-in-point, dudes. While I do not know a single man or person that wants their hair to fall out (thus the good wishes for its preservation) loss of hair doesn’t matter A BIT to me. Neither does weight. I fall in love with the person. Ask anyone. It was said affectionately as both an inside joke and because it’s been DECADES since I have seen some of the men I mentioned and I was poking fun at our advancing age more than anything. If I was ungraceful in it, my apologies.