It’s a strange thing that a man has to wear a fat suit to be a love interest for Chrissy Metz’ characters. OK, a little background: The man who plays Kate Pearson’s love interest has a fat suit. It does not take away from the person’s authenticity, but it reveals an ugly truth about the state of Hollywood and Television execs: Those people believe a man cannot accept a woman with a perceived flaw unless they have that flaw themselves, and in a worse manner. It turns out, men in Hollywood are Shallow Hals. Does anybody remember Shallow Hal? It was a movie done in 2001 in which a man has to overcome his defining trait to find true love. I think all of Hollywood should watch it, as a lesson to themselves. This leads me to a sad conclusion: If a man is so shallow that they have to date somebody skinny, the standard of beauty these days, where does that leave a fat girl like me? Alone.
Here’s the trouble with losing weight: I am not a skinny little broomstick. I never was, even at my skinniest. When I weighed 125 pounds, I still had curves. So, there are two choices when dealing with men’s shallowness: Accept loneliness and hate myself, or find a man who is not so shallow. But where is a man who is not as shallow? How far away from the media must I roam to find this golden man?
Recently, I’ve been going over some of my posts. I’ve noticed a pattern of pity and self-loathing. Will I die alone? Am I pretty enough for love? Am I too fat for love? It has come to me what I have been doing, and what drives these posts. I have been listening to what the haters say, and not what the people who love me say. It’s a vicious cycle. The haters scream and shout, while those who love you are drowned out. It’s vicious what I’ve been listening to. Well, it’s time to make a definite change. I’ve come here to say NO MORE. It’s time I reverse my ears and listen to those who really love me – those who say that love is there, even if it’s not in a partner.
Autistic people find love. I have known a chemist/inventor who has been in Time Magazine, and she has been married for years. Of course, no one has to marry their partner, but isn’t that sweet? I have decided this: If I am bound to find a soul mate, they will come at the right time. If not, oh well. Maybe I can look at the other ways people can be loved – you know, without partners.
I’m going to go off script and talk about this – it’s related: Ashley Graham – yes, the plus-size Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover model – says she’s not ashamed of her body. Why should she be ashamed of it? She’s a Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover model! Even now, I can hear the cracking and crumbling of the plaster statue of broomstick beauty dictatorship. I’m not a broomstick, but why does that have to shut me out of love and acceptance? It’s sickening.
The worst part of it is this: It recurs almost every now and then. It’s like a pain that flares up with this trigger or that trigger, and I want it to stop. I want to stop feeling like I am inadequate to find and give/receive love. I’m tired of being disqualified because of things I can barely control, let alone things I can NOT control. I can’t control that I’m autistic. I can’t control that I’m short and stocky. I can’t control your attitude, either. So why lament about it?