July 30th, 2006. Let that day go down in history as the first day a man definitely, no doubt in my mind, totally, for real, hit on me. None of this ambiguous “Nice day isn’t it?” small talk. It was odd. I didn’t know how to react. I had more of a deer in the headlights reaction, which probably wasn’t good considering I was jogging across a crosswalk at the time. The headline would have been interesting though, “Girl gets hit on and then hit by car.”
I know some fat girls can walk into a room and be charming and exuberant and have guys hit on them no matter what, but I have never been one of those women. I am more of the type that thinks “Do I need to make eye contact with these people or is my dress pattern similar enough to the wallpaper that I can just blend into the wall?” New people scare me. I for the most part avoid them and being a fat person they mostly avoided me in return.
However, this might be changing. I’m walking/jogging on the trail yesterday when I notice this guy on a bike, late-30’s, kind of scraggly beard, no shirt and a bit of a belly, who is stopped on the other side of the crosswalk I’m running across. We make eye contact and have the following exchange:
Biker: “That looks like a lot of fun” (jokingly since it is pretty hot and humid out)
Me: “Oh, yeah. Ha, ha!” (I pull a “yeah, right” sarcastic face)
Biker: “I wish I could do that. I just ride a bike.”
Me: (I just nod, my talent as world’s second worst conversationalist behind a blind, mute boy in a coma revealed.)
I then continue jogging, but about 30 seconds later biker guy follows and passes me.
Biker: Don’t have too much fun!
Me: Ha, I’ll try not too!
(Up to this point pretty much an innocent exchange that could be interpreted as someone just being friendly, until…)
Biker: And don’t tell your boyfriend about me.
Me: (Inner scream: Aaaaaaaah! Did shirtless, hippie guy just come on to me? I think he did!)
So it is now official. I am a sex object. Watch out Victoria’s Secret catalog! Either that or hippie man was a closet Winnie the Pooh fan who really dug my Eeyore tank top. Actually, I feel a bit ridiculous detailing that incident in such detail. I feel like I’m in high school again. (And then he was like “blah blah” and then I was like “blah blah” and then, OMG, he said “blah blah!” Squeee!)
Seriously though, stuff like this does not happen to me. But from what I’ve read of other people’s experiences, it’s probably just going to start happening more and more, especially since I’m closing in on crossing that line between obesity and simply being overweight. (Only 10 more pounds.) I’m like a Romulan Bird of Prey decloaking. It’s a strange fact that in our society the more of you there is, the less you are acknowledged.
Certainly, I don’t think a woman should base her self-worth on her ability to garner male attention. However, it is rather cool that the opposite sex might not find me completely repulsive anymore. They might start letting me play their reindeer games after all.
I should also reiterate my belief that fat people are perfectly capable of getting dates and having satisfying relationships. However, being thinner does open up a lot more options. For better or for worse, shirtless, bearded men who traverse urban trails on bicycles are evidently among them.