Women’s News: You’re Loving Big Girls All Wrong


Becky Cavender

Freelance writer, artist, and single mom

There is a crazy amount of ridiculousness online about dating big girls, loving big girls, how to talk to big girls, how you better stay away from big girls, how guys only like big girls in secret … you get the point.

I’ve read that an advantage of being with a larger woman is that she’ll stand up for herself if someone gives her flak, whereas a skinny girl will expect a man to defend her honor. Apparently, we fatties are our own “bodyguard.” Really? I’ve had men defend my honor. Can I stick up for myself? Of course; but that has nothing to do with my size and everything to do with my integrity. And, by the way, skinny girls can stick up for themselves, too!

Another article stated men only have to put in minimal effort to date a thick chick because she is “probably an emotional wreck” so will grovel for and lap up any amount of attention bestowed upon her. I haven’t noticed this to be true. In fact, it’s probably quite the opposite.

Sadly, many big girls have had negative experiences dating, or in relationships, so may not have such an open heart. Some of us get a little skeptical (like, err, most women). In my case, I’ve learned to watch and let a man show me he’s interested. They might have to work a little harder at proving it. I’d do this if I were thinner, too. Seems like a smart strategy: for ALL women.

Being single means I can jump on that dating bandwagon again. It’s been over 12 years since I have and things are different now. My concern is not whether I’ll be able to attract a man because of my ample size. This has never been a problem; I’ve had many relationships. Instead, I’m more concerned about aging, about being nearly 40 (and those bodily changes), and about being a single mother to boot. (Does that still put guys off? Do I have to tell them I’m not looking for a replacement daddy? I have no clue.) Then there’s this: I’m busy and picky about who I choose to spend my limited time with.

Apparently, larger women have trouble finding dates. This has not been my experience so I cannot relate. In fact, when I was at my heaviest, I dated the most. No joke. There are many men who like us roundy types — and not just guys who “secretly” like big girls, as I’ve read. I don’t even know who those men are.

Way back in the day (when I was 21 and going out to clubs all the time… and was large then, too), one of my best friends gave this piece of advice on how to pick-up a man: “Look at the guy you’re interested in, hold eye contact for a bit, smile, then turn your head.” Honestly, that works. Sometimes I still do it. Just for fun. Maybe the guy at the car service center is handsome and I feel like seeing if I’ve still got it. I do the eye-contact thing like my friend taught me years ago and they smile, glinty eyes and all, back.

Come on, girls. I’m getting old and this shit still works. It’s more about confidence and how you carry yourself.

I know what you’re thinking. I just wrote over here that if a guy says he’s attracted to me exactly as I am, I internally scoff. And that’s true. Sometimes I do. It seems most women deal with this; we live in a society where we’re taught to not accept our bodies (regardless of what we look like). We’re always comparing ourselves to other women — and trust me — those women we’re comparing ourselves to are comparing themselves to other women, too.

I’m not unaware that some men don’t prefer us fat girls. They don’t have to! It’s not offensive that they don’t. I’m typically not attracted to slender, skinny guys. I doubt those men feel offended and left out.

The problem that may come up for us large women in relationships is lifestyle preference. If you’re with a guy who wants you to be involved in outdoorsy activities like backpacking up big mountains, white water rafting, or bungee jumping and you’re not that kind of girl… it will probably become an issue.

If the man isn’t honest enough with himself or you to say he needs to partner with someone who has similar interests and pursues those activities as a couple, he might blame your weight for his subsequent unhappiness: it’s easy enough to do; if you buy into that bullshit (I have), it’s tremendously painful and damaging. Instead of being true to himself, it’s simpler to say your size is responsible for the demise of the relationship. Those guys should leave big girls alone. And you should walk away.

The truth may actually be you’re the kind of girl that even if you were 105, you still wouldn’t want to do those things. This isn’t about weight. This is about individuals knowing — really knowing — who they are and what their needs and wants are out of a relationship, looking for those things in a partner, then not compromising. (If you’re obese and actually want to do those adventurous activities but your weight is hindering you, that’s on you, sweetheart. Do something about that: Go be who you are.)

For those men out there who like us big girls, a few words of advice:

  1. Don’t tell us we’re cute and cuddly. Toddlers and puppies are cute and cuddly.
  2. Do tell us we’re HOT, gorgeous, sexy, beautiful, stunning, lovely, amazing, wonderful, special… you get the point.
  3. Don’t say, “You have a pretty face.” That’s the kiss of death. We’ll groan, roll our eyes and think, “I’ve heard this all my life. ONLY my face is pretty?!” No. See number one. This will also register on any fat girl’s radar that you haven’t been with many of us before.
  4. Do take us out, flaunt us, dance with us, hold our hands in public… act like a normal guy who is into his girl.
  5. Don’t say “You’re a beautiful big woman” or “I’m into fat chicks.” Really. Just see U.S. as who we are. The individual. You don’t have to qualify that we’re pretty… for a big girl. Come on. Just own it that you think we’re hot. On the “I’m into fat chicks:” We’re not a fetish. ‘Nuff said.

Despite my sometimes-difficulty accepting compliments, I actually know I’m a pretty cool woman. My biggest issue — if I were to call it an issue — is my size. It could be a lot worse: I could be a mean spirited, miserable, gossipy coke head; instead, I’m fat.

Oh, and for the record: the boys still dig me. It ain’t a problem.

Read More:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/becky-cavender/loving-big-girls_b_4419844.html?utm_hp_ref=women&ir=Women?utm_hp_ref=women&ir=Women

Women’s News: Having a Baby When You’re Not a Baby Person


Tracy Moore

Writer, Jezebel

In spite of what our deepest wishes celebrity tabloids tell us, a baby is not, in fact, an accessory. But that doesn’t mean this child’s unexpected arrival won’t a) drastically alter your wardrobe and b) cause an existential crisis on par with what happened that time you took that quiz that instructed you to “find your season.” To wit: the stark realization that you are not, never were, and are never gonna be a baby person. Only now you’re going to have a baby.

A baby person, of course, is someone who appears so suited to the carrying and care of children, so naturally maternal, so effortlessly comforting — see: my mother-in-law — that when your brain tries to conjure them without children — nope, it can’t do it. They live and breathe children, look natural dancing gaily around in flower-filled fields, and are forever threatening to morph into Mary Poppins. What’s more, they actually like babies, what with their near constant cries, blobby necks, and built-to-be-agitating pitch, not to mention their batshit preference to be with you every single second of their budding lives. I know, right? Insane.

Then there are the rest of us: non-baby people who don’t even know what to say to the little bugger, who couldn’t hold a baby’s head upright if our lives depended on it. And like a person without a hat head being given a hat, or a non-watch-arm-haver being asked to put on a watch, a non-baby person with a baby is an awkward sight to behold. It just doesn’t go together.

It’s not your fault, per se. We can’t all be baby people. Some of us have actually managed to carve out lives where we were never around children. Some of us can plainly see with our own child-free eyes that babies are, in fact, weird, terrifying, disease-carrying, nonsensical creatures who follow no rhyme or reason. Some of us took one look at The Exorcist and realized immediately what it really was: a metaphor for toddlerhood.

Maybe it’s just that babies don’t do anything for you, or you don’t know how to act around them, or their lack of conversation skills leaves you in a perpetual state of awkward enthusiasm, and all you can think about is exactly how many seconds can pass before you can hand this thing back to its mother without being accused of lacking a soul?

That was me. If I could not muster the appropriate enthusiasm for other people’s children, how would I ever do it for my own? What’s more, my very fast-paced, bar-loving, outgoing existence and life in the blogosphere depended entirely on sarcasm and detachment, the opposite of baby person-ness. I wouldn’t have known an uninhibited compassionate impulse or a goofy game of peekaboo if it toddled right up to me and offered a hug. Hugs — gross.

But I would need more than just compassionate impulses to navigate the newborn obstacle course. There are also all those games you play with babies, a whole world out there in need of narrating in a fun, upbeat voice, and an untold number of life-affirming facial expressions. I’d need to soothe this new person in my life. And that was just the stuff I could remember seeing moms do in diaper commercials.

Furthermore, what about other easy-for-a-baby-person activities I might also suck at, like making appropriately silly faces? I’d also have to say “good job” a lot, and say it convincingly when the “job” was something like rolling from tummy to back.

I was sure I couldn’t hack it. For instance, it once took me two whole weeks to love a kitten I’d adopted, whereas my noncommittal, totally willing-to-mooch ex-boyfriend loved it at first sight. If a scruffy bum could muster instant love for something he wasn’t even related to, how long would it take me to love my own child?

I was in big trouble. But I also wasn’t alone. Google “not a baby person” and you’ll see that plenty of women are just as mortified as you are, wondering if their inability to go ga-ga over other people’s pods means they’ll come up wanting with their own.

One woman confessed on a forum that she just didn’t “get” babies. Another said she couldn’t have been bothered with them. But story after story of baby-love blind spots were followed up with the only one thing that can assure you: that when their baby wheeled into their lives, all the right stuff kicked in. Whew. (Babies are on wheels?)

If baby things and baby feelings — comforting a tiny living thing or conjuring marathon-levels of enthusiasm when you are not the mad enthusiasm type (and have no access to Lance Armstrong-levels of doping drugs) — sound utterly terrifying to you, too, rest assured your baby grades on a very generous curve. As long as you are loving, and as long as you are there.

Believe me, the nurturing will come. The enthusiasm will come. Eventually, you will startle at the stranger you hear using what sounds like a naturally gushing tone when cooing at your baby, even when reading the words of some of the more offensively saccharine kids’ books out there, and realize that the stranger is you. And you won’t even totally hate this new person, no matter how uncool she looks now.

And if the naturally up-with-people vibe never hits at your corner of the universe, something more important is happening anyway. Unless you took some really weird drugs, your baby won’t be a baby forever. That’s right, just when you get this whole infant thing hammered out, you’ll wake up one day and realize that your baby’s blobby neck is a normal neck, her blobby legs are standing, wobbly legs. And what you may discover is that for every way that you were not a baby person, you are in fact, a toddler person. You might even be really, really good at it.

Read More:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tracy-moore/having-a-baby-when-youre-not-a-baby-person_b_4480917.html?utm_hp_ref=women&ir=Women?utm_hp_ref=women&ir=Women

A Message From The Creator


%d bloggers like this: