I almost cheated myself out of love because I thought I was too heavy
You know the saying you're your own worst critic? That would be me!
When I started dating, I was hyper-critical of myself. I'd gained 60 pounds in three months, and I didn’t really recognize the woman in the mirror.
Whether it was frenemies, family, or the world at large, I'd always been told that men wouldn't love me if I was heavy. There was a particular look that was acceptable and anything outside of that narrow box devalued a woman on the dating market.
I bought that lie hook, line, and sinker—which is why dating in my late 30s seemed almost impossible as I looked at the dating apps.
While I would’ve liked to meet someone the old fashioned way (in person), that would have required me actually leaving my home and braving the public to interact with other humans (cue the social anxiety and panic attacks).
Since that wasn’t going to happen—dating apps were the option.
I set up my profiles and crossed my fingers that maybe—just maybe—I would find my person.
To my surprise, not only did I have men wanting to match with me, but most of them were fit men (cue the confused face!).
While I’ve definitely pulled some men that I would consider incredibly gorgeous, attractive, and smart in the past—my jaw dropped in shock at the line of six-pack ab having, deep-v owning, can bench press you card-carrying men of the They Do Exist Club!
Naturally, I thought—catfishes. All of them.
But nope.
To my surprise, they were real dudes who loved my curves. But I still couldn't wrap my head around it.
I’d heard of fit men who love curvy women before—but I’d only heard of them in the context of “chubby chasers” who had a permanent fit partner while secretly dating curvy women on the side. There was this idea that if someone liked me while I was carrying extra weight, it was shameful. The relationship would be something to be hidden, mocked, or made fun of.
So when this gorgeous, clearly brilliant, and kind fit man showed up in my swipe options (who was literally everything I'd been asking the universe for and then some), I went straight into "Oh no! He'd neeeeeeever like me!"
And I almost swiped left!
I was so afraid of the rejection that I was going to take myself out of the game before even entering the field.
Luckily, a little voice in my head said, "If he doesn't like you, he won't swipe on you, and you'll never know! No ego hit. Swipe right!"
So I did, and it was an instant match.
My mind swam with a million thoughts.
I didn’t doubt we’d connect on the important things—our values, visions of the future, and goals—but I was terrified he would take one look at me, and I’d be friend-zoned.
Despite being nervous and looking for any reason to cut and run, I sent him a quick voice message to introduce myself, and let it go.
I was shocked when he responded. His voice was even cuter than his face, which was a tall order! We talked for a couple of weeks, and I was amazed at how considerate he was.
He didn’t push to meet right away. He was happy to get to know me at my pace, while setting his own boundaries. And he made space for my humanness.
Too good to be true was an understatement.
The amount of men who tried to pressure me into meeting them within 24 hours was staggering. To have someone who understood all of the potential danger that’s implied for a woman looking to date someone she met on an app was refreshing.
So I did what any self-respecting, science-fiction and fantasy-obsessed girl would do—I sabotaged.
At least I tried to.
Within a couple weeks of talking, I was moving to a new place. I didn’t really have help, and he offered to give me a hand.
I wasn’t planning on accepting the help, but when I looked at the clock and realized there was no way I was going to finish the move by the time I had to be out, I conceded.
Did I worry he might murder me for a hot second?
Yep.
But I needed help, and he was happy to offer.
I’d already been moving for over 12 hours when he arrived.
His pictures didn’t do him justice, and all of a sudden, I was aware that I was covered in sweat and dirt from moving, while rocking baggy sweats and two-day-old hair.
Welp, I thought. There goes that.
There was no way he was going to like me. I looked like a raggamuffin, and the chances of me smelling like a day’s worth of physical labor were high. Yet, he looked at me like I was this stunning creature that he was overjoyed to see.
We spent the next 12 hours moving house (yes, I was awake for over 24 hours—so that was a good idea for a first date), and we talked the entire time.
It didn’t feel like we’d just met. It felt like we’d known each other for years and were just catching up. By the end of the night, we were both smitten.
We connected on so many levels. Our interests were aligned, and we respected each other’s differences. There was an ease in being together which gave us the ability to be vulnerable and deeply bond.
Neither of us wanted to move too quickly or force things along. But if I’m being honest, I wanted to take things slow so it would hurt less when I was rejected for not being physically good enough.
Despite me white knuckling through that early part of our relationship, the rejection never came. Not only did we commit to a monogamous relationship, but he praised my curves. He let me know that the parts of myself that made me self-conscious were the parts he found the sexiest.
Allowing myself to see my body through his eyes gave me a profound paradigm shift.
I was able to borrow his confidence in me to build my own. He gave me the room to be kinder and more loving to myself. And it was that profound acceptance and pride in being with me exactly as I was that provided the grace I needed to extend to myself so I could begin banishing the beliefs that my worth had anything to do with my weight.
While I want to be healthier moving forward, I’m no longer on a health journey with the intention of being more lovable as a result. I’ve learned that I’m lovable exactly as I am, and striving to be healthier will just let me enjoy my life in new ways, for longer.
Raven Willow Riley, a proud card-carrying member of the introverted recluse club, is a writer, poet, and (novice) artist. Co-founder of Helia Lit, she writes from the inside out — pulling freedom, autonomy, and expression from the shadows and handing them back to the people who need them most. Soft in a world that mistakes gentleness for weakness, Raven believes healing is its own kind of rebellion.
