Recently, I joined a dating app to break out of my comfort zone and possibly go on some dates. This online dating thing isn’t the easiest thing. You have to use your best pictures or you’ll be stuck in Lonelyville for the rest of your life. So I made sure my hair and makeup were on point, and that my boobs didn’t come out to play.
I received some pretty good feedback and, of course, some messages from creepy guys. I also chatted with some matches via the apps messenger, exchanged numbers and started texting.
Everything was going smoothly – until one of my matches asked to see a full-body photo. And I panicked. Although I have learned to love my curves as a full-figured woman, I am not always confident that someone else will love me as is. Still, the only way to know is by taking a chance. So I send him what he asked for. And then stared at my phone for a good 10 minutes.
OMG! He hates the picture, I thought to myself. I analyzed the photo I sent him and noticed my arm placement. Did I look like I was sucking it in too much? Was I not sucking it in enough? Enter full freak-out mode.
When I didn’t get a response the rest of the day going into the evening, I knew it was a done deal. I now hated him and called him all types of assholes in my head.
How dare he not respond? How dare he say how horribly huge I am without directly saying it? I mean, a nonresponse is just such BS! I was now depressed, drowning my sorrows in ice cream. You’re going to enjoy the hell out of this ice cream even if it means you’re never going to find a date for the rest of your life! Yes, I was being dramatic, but I needed to sulk.
The next day I received a text.
Is this a pity hello?! I thought.
“I’m sorry for not texting you back. I got really busy at work and went home and straight to sleep. Your picture was gorgeous, I loved it.”
“Aw, that’s super sweet!” I replied. I obviously didn’t tell him I secretly hated him hours ago.
Later on, it dawned on me that I needed reassurance about my beauty from a man I barely knew. I relied on his response and allowed his opinion to dictate how I felt about myself. And that was not okay. The problem was never his nonresponse; it was that I allowed his nonresponse to make me feel self-conscience. I felt shitty about myself.
I now realize I have to continue working on my self-esteem. More than anything I have to love what I see in the mirror. I have to own it all. Yes, I am curvy, but I am beautiful inside and out. There’s nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, that should ever change how I feel about the woman that I am.