Dating Blunders

Dating. Yeah, I heard that collective groan from here! Let me share a few gems from my extensive (minimal) dating experiences.

OK, now for those of you who know me, you'll know that I did not date AT ALL in high school, like every other normal person on Earth. Nor College. Yes, I was the fat, shy nerd, the Unholy Trifecta of Loserdom! I was 28 when a guy finally grew a pair and asked me out.

Back when I was 23 (huh? Just read.) I met a guy over the Internet, back when the Internet was a relatively safe place and certain personals sites were free, or at least free if you knew how to get the guy's user name by saving his pic and then using the free instant messenger part... not that I ever did that. He lived in a nearby town, and we were never anything but friends. It may have been because of our first meeting.

On the way to meet him I promised myself I'd be safe, I'd be smart and I would NOT get into a car with him. So after we meet, shake hands and I jump into his Mustang (hey, it was a Mustang!) we go to another town for supper. The place was packed, so we had to sit near the bar. Loud is an understatement. So we ate not speaking, because there wasn't any way we could yell over the din. After dinner came the obligatory movie. I insisted on paying (independent much?) and he goes on into the theatre. I get to the door and the lights have already gone out. I can't find him! I wait for a second, hoping my eyes will adjust quickly, but no dice. I grope my way about 4 rows down and sit in the first seat I come to. Luckily, he's there, but 2 seats over. Now here's a dilemma: do I stay seated, or move? After pondering this question through the previews, I decide to hold firm. Later I'm glad of this decision, as we saw Lilo and Stitch, and I cried through the entire movie. Shut up, it's SAD!

We remained friends for a few years, then he met another chick online, she moved from Oregon, and they're now happily (I hope) married with a little girl.

Then there was my Redneck guy who blew cigarette smoke in my face after dinner. Never heard from him again. And the dude who said I had an anger issue. Screw him and the horse he rode in on! A hem, then there was Don, whom I met on eHarmony. He seemed like a great guy, until he emailed me a week before we met, and armed with his last name ran a background check on him, and found he had just gotten a divorce 2 weeks before we were matched online. Yikes! One meal at Applebees, and no phone call since. Not that I'm waiting. Jerk.

Then there was the Ex. Within the first 5 minutes I called him both Weird and Strange. (When I'm nervous my brain and tongue often lose communication.) That was shortly after hopping into his Corvette (yes, apparently I have a thing for guys with nice cars) and heading to a local Winery for dinner. I was trying to make a joke about not getting into cars with strange men, but said weird instead. Trying to correct myself just made things worse. But obviously this was not a deal breaker as dude did go on to ask me to marry him in later months. Then take it back. (enter expletive here)

Recently I had another first date. Again nerves were on overload, but other than interrogating the poor guy (just talk, darn you!) I don't recall doing anything overly stupid. I didn't call him names, sat right next to him in the movie theatre, and didn't spill anything on my white shirt. The only awkard moment was saying goodbye. It's not as easy as the movies portray. Are you supposed to kiss him goodnight on the first date? Just on the cheek? Shake his hand? Jump out of the truck and lock the door behind you? I don't know.

Do you have any dating advice? What are your horror stories? Do share!

Fat Girl Guidebook: Edition 3

The Fashion Police have been on patrol and it's time for more intervention, fat-girl style!

1. Muffin Tops. Unfortunately you don't even have to be a fat girl to achieve this little beauty. The first problem is your pants are too tight. The second problem is that you're getting low-cut pants that are bi-secting your butt into Upper and Lower regions, the Upper being the Muffin phenomenon. The third problem is that you pair this combo with a tight shirt that emphasizes the Muffin area. The fourth problem is that you think this looks good. The fifth problem is that there apparently isn't anyone in your world who has the chutzpa to tell you that you look ridiculous.

2. I said in the last Fat Girl post that I'd discuss Bra Size, but that may be too personal an argument. All I have to say is: Get Professionally Fitted! If you can't breathe, it's too small!

3. Plus Size Footwear. Yes, there is such a thing. I have found over the past few years a nice selection of Plus Size Socks, Plus Size Boots, and the famous Plus Size Pantyhose. Queen Size is so 1995.
At first I scoffed at the idea of Plus Size socks. But after paying better attention to the growing "Cankle" epidemic, I now see that it is needed. There is nothing more frustrating than buying a new pair of socks only to find they won't stay up your leg. And old-fashioned sock-garters are no longer an option. And Thank You to whoever invented Plus Size Knee Highs! I may have lost both legs at the knee by now if it weren't for you!

For my final thought, I'm considering a mentoring program for Fat Girls. If someone recently found herself in this area, or if she's been denying it for years, she needs a proper initiation into the Fat Girls Club. I attended a meeting yesterday and sat behind a, well, Fat Girl who needed a little help. Not only did she break a few of my cardinal Fat Girl rules (No clingy fabrics!) but she also needed basic make-up and hygiene assistance (Can we say dandruff shampoo?) If I had a mentoring program started, I could have introduced myself, given her my card, and given her the tools to access a network of other experienced Fat Girls to help guide her to greater self-confidence and a snazzy new hairstyle (Which she so desperately needed!)

*I do hope you, dear readers, can feel the sarcasm through your mouse. I know I am no Fashion Maven, nor do I think myself particularly fashionable. However, I do know what looks good and what makes me cringe, and will exercise my right to express my opinions freely.

Why?

Every toddler asks it repeatedly. Every adult asks it repeatedly.

Why me? Why now? Why not? Why, why why?

Say it enough, it doesn't even sound like a word anymore, but it is a very powerful word, though small in stature at only three letters.

I wonder if God ever regrets inventing the word or the notion of Why? Can you imagine how many times a day he hears that question? I know I feel frustration and maybe even a touch of indignation when someone asks me why, but can you fathom His feeling when someone asks: "Why was I even born? Why are you doing this to me? Why don't you listen to me? Why don't you love me anymore? Why don't you want me to have the desires of my heart?" Ever ask one of those? Uh huh, me too.

But we humans are a curious race. We like to ask questions that can't be answered, at least not easily. And we're not often satisfied with "You'll know by and by." The heck with that, I want to know NOW! Did I mention humans are also impatient?

But don't feel bad when you ask why, even Jesus asked it, when on the cross he asked why His father had forsaken Him. There are lessons we need to learn, plans we know nothing about, and a grander vision that we are not capable of seeing.

In times when one asks why, Jeremiah 29:11-13 comes to mind. ¹¹"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ¹² Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. ¹³ You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

See, God loves you and wants good things for you. Just maybe not what we want or when we want it. I know this doesn't lessen the hurt, remove the doubt or give us the warm-fuzzies, but it's true. And someday we'll understand and know it was for our own good, because Father knows best.

And he called again...

Yes, I have a date. Or as I call it, a "meeting." Date implies romantic intent.

Part of me is doing the happy dance, uh huh, it's my birthday!

The other part of me is thinking "Oh crap, here we go again."

I'm not good at dating. I'm not flirty, nor am I a sparkling conversationalist. I live by my favorite line in Ever After: Don't speak unless you can improve upon the silence.

But since we're going for a "bite to eat" as he put it, I could also live by my second favorite line from that movie: "I'm only here for the food."

So He Called...

...and I wasn't home. This was Saturday. I called back, left a message. No call in return.

I've learned the man-time is not the same as woman-time.

Not that I'm impatient.

Not Huffy.

Dry Toes

A few weeks ago a church member mentioned to me that she had given my phone number to a young man she knows. Yeah, here we go. She had mentioned him to me a while back, like a week after the Ex dumped me, and I asked her to give me time. I guess the time has come.

This possibility of a stranger calling me has upset the delicate balance that I call safe. I have had blind dates in the past, two to be exact, and never heard from the guy again. Both times it was a good thing, but it hurts a gal's ego nonetheless.

Huff being Huff I did a little cyber-sleuthing and found this dude is divorced. Strike one. Why? I'm not sure. I have an Ex, he has an Ex, what's the difference? Well, I didn't live with mine, nor did I take his name. We had a few future plans, but nothing so substantial as a joint bank account or choosing baby names. (Ok, maybe I did, but that's another story.)  There's a different level of hurt involved also.

Another strike is my assumed lack of common interests. I'm guessing this guy is into hunting, fishing, 4-wheeler riding, Country music and the whole Redneck bit. I'm not. Again, assuming, and we all know what happens when one assumes...

Strike three? I don't know yet. I'll come up with one, give me time. I'm a master at the Reject-Before-You-Can-Be-Rejected defense mechanism. I could always rely on my old stand-by "he doesn't like fat chicks" excuse. There! No reason for him to call!

Now I know what you're thinking, didn't you say it was a few weeks ago, and he still hasn't called you? Why are you spazzing? Well, this matchmaker told me he had hurt himself at work, had surgery and wanted to be healed before he called. So he is considerate. Point for him. And he has a job. Another point.

This anxiety has also brought up a lot of memories of the Ex, like the first time we met, and pointers to myself of what to do/say, don't do/say. I never had to worry about NOT talking about the Ex before, since I'd never HAD an Ex before. Geez, throw in some lettuce in the teeth and I'm ready to make a great first impression!

I'll keep you, dear readers, informed. I'll need some pointers if I ever do decide to dip my toe into the dating pool. Just remember, I can't swim!

Should I walk backwards?

Twice in the past week I have been greeted from behind. Maybe it's because of my behind.

Let me explain...

For the past month a coworker and I have been walking twice per week, after work, at a local park. It's a nicely paved sidewalk, approximately 1.1 miles in length around the entire park. This park is along a well traveled street in my town, so passersby can see you.

Last week while walking I heard a honk and noticed an arm waving as a car passed by. I recognized the driver as a church member, and remarked to the coworker that I thought it strange the person knew me from behind. And today I had a fellow Sunday School member, also walking, approach from behind and say "Is that [Huffalina]?" Again, I thought it strange the back of my head is so recognizable.

Finally it occurred to me that most of the church sees my backside more than my front. As choir director, I have a small perch (a step about 3 feet square) where I lead the choir. It is on the outside of the choir loft, in full view of the entire congregation. (And let me tell you, it is a fat girl's nightmare! I've never been so concerned about VPL's in my life [that's Visible Panty Lines for you guys.]) And also scared of falling off my perch, possibly falling right through the floor down into the Children's Church area, squishing some blessed darling.

Last week I got my hair cut and colored (Big Red is back, baby!) and my lovely, talented and patient hair dresser took special care to make sure the back of my hair looks good, as she noted that most people don't have to care about the back of their hair, but because of leading the choir, I do. Isn't that sweet of her to think of that? I see a Christmas bonus in her future!

Also while walking this coworker and I are often passed by more serious and enthusiastic walkers, joggers and runners. We just let them pass, usually making the same excuse over and again, that she has cancer and I'm fat. I suggested we make T-shirts with that on them. We've yet to finalize what we're putting on the back. I'll be sure to post a pic if we ever get them made!

The Fat Girl Guidebook: Edition 2

As promised I will again take up the cause of the Fat Girl and educate those of you who aren't, and commiserate with those of you who are.

1. Turnstiles.
Honestly people, now that there is laser technology, do you really need a narrow gate with oddly placed bars to count admission? Even small people sometimes have to go through these sideways. And guys, tough luck on that one!

2. Toilet Stalls
I know someone who just reads this blog without knowing me thinks I'm totally obsessed about toilets. As this is my third blog post to involve toilets, you may be right. But today I'm just talking about the stalls. Have you ever tried to turn around in one of those? Heaven forbid you try to take off your coat!

Usually there is a hook, placed conveniently (for thieves) at the top of the door. Sometimes there is a shelf taking up valuable room along the wall. And sometimes you just have to hold your purse on your lap, changing hands and balancing it like a Chinese acrobat. Some stalls also feature not only width constraints, but also length. I'm not that tall, so my knees should NEVER touch the back of the door.

And the door? Usually it swings in. How inconvenient! There is not sufficient room to close the door with me in the way. Thus I have to straddle the toilet to shut the door, all the while the other ladies in line look at me as if to say "What are you doing in there? Get on with it already!"

And to use the handicap stall is frowned upon unless you're actually handicapped. Or no one else is using it. Or you claim your fat as a handicap! (I may have done this once. Or twice.) I recently found two restaurants where the handicap stall had its own sink in there. It was like a deluxe suite! But when you leave the stall and don't wash your hands where everyone else is, they think you're nasty, and claiming "It has its own sink!" only gets further stares of doubt and a small step back as you pass.

(I said handicap and I'm sticking with that term. I didn't feel like typing "differently abilitied" throughout the toilet stall description. If you're offended, just don't read my blog anymore!)

3. Airplane seats. Don't get me started! All I have to say is Fat Butt= No Fit. Pain. Lots and lots of pain. And the added embarrassment of asking the flight attendant for a seat belt extender. Yeah skinny people, didn't even know they had those, huh?

4. Fat Girl Math
Serving sizes are merely suggestions. And the half serving in the container is just lumped in with the last serving. Haven't you ever had a ginormous bowl of cereal because there wasn't enough left for one more full bowl, so you just poured it all in one? Oh, and two small pieces equal one, even if the smaller pieces are approximately 75% the size of the full one. Because 6 big tater wedges and 2 small shriveled ones do NOT equal 8, as the bag specifically directs.

And those diets where you can only eat one thing per day? Like today you eat cabbage and tomorrow you eat carrots? As Lula from the Stephanie Plum novel series* would say, I love those diets! Today one bucket of chicken, tomorrow one extra-large pizza.

*Written by Janet Evanovich, movie One for the Money releases January 2012

Coming up in future editions: muffin tops, bra size, and plus size footwear