Last night I was checking one of my sad little dating websites and found this unsolicited message (meaning I didn’t “like,” “swipe right” or even view this person’s profile)

“My dislikes are obese liberals who lie about having an “average” body, that look in the mirror and fantasize about their imaginary option of being remotely picky.”

When selecting body type on my dating profiles, there aren’t many options between “about average” and “full figured/obese.” Being someone who appreciates accuracy, the average woman is between size 14 and 16. I am between 10 and 12. Technically, that’s smaller than average but I do still consider myself overweight. Why quibble? I definitely am overweight.

Like an idiot who had just taken an ambien, I responded. There were some typos but for being being in hallucination stage between wake and sleep, I did ok. Trump voter, small penis….KKK member was the ambien. That one made no sense but it could still be accurate.

I guess I am supposed to disclose as obese and have no interests or things I am looking for in a man. I think he was angry because he initially thought I was attractive enough to view my profile but found 55 is way out of my age range. Regardless of my weight or appearance, since when am I supposed to have no “conditions” to set some range around what I am looking for? Are overweight women expected to take what we can get? Well guess what? My best looking ex was with me when I was heavier than I am now. If I could get him fatter than this, I am still holding out. It’s just so offensive to every woman to think our appearance dictates what we are worthy or not worthy of having in our lives. And yet, as long as I remain single, I fear my weight is getting away with invalidating me.

The email got worse….

“Where I come from we go cow tipping for fun and heffers like you are the target. I’m not a doctor but Im paid very well to guess the weight of sloths like you at the carnival. You don’t qualify for the “ladies” category oink oink.”

This is a 55 year old man. He is someone’s father….maybe even grandfather. Can you imagine this man raised children? While I fought back, this blog is by no means some proud, fat girl declaration. There is no victory. There is no “I am so proud of what my body does to sustain and nurture me.” There is general sadness on behalf of any woman who is beyond the single digits in wardrobe, every woman who has ever given birth and adapted to a new body shape, every woman who has the prefect body but still starves herself or works out too much for fear of ever not having that perfect body. Every woman who has been cheated on with the thinner woman, any woman who has fought an eating disorder and every single little girl in the world who might have to encounter just one of these men even once in her life.

I used to weigh over 230 pounds. I lost 80 pounds and am still fat. I risked my life to have weight loss surgery because I thought I would be better off dead than to continue living like that. That’s pretty sad, don’t you think? I didn’t think my life held value because of the size of my clothing, To put it in perspective, it was only 230 pounds. There are people much larger than that who see no clearing in the woods. Some would consider me lucky. 230 pounds is the weight of an athlete. He doesn’t consider killing himself when he gets on the scale, does he?

I would love to lose another 50 pounds but I just can’t. God bless my family and ancestors but we are just a fat people with only a few exceptions….one being a vegetarian and others running at least 10 miles a day. Only extreme measures get you an average body on either side of my family. I don’t think anyone is actually “skinny.” I also do indulge in things I want to eat in moderation because when I didn’t in the past, I developed a binge eating disorder and murdered my metabolism 20 years before it normally slows down. For real. There is something medically wrong with my metabolism.

I do Orange Theory workouts and burn about 600 calories a class. In order to do it, I have extra padding in my sneakers, wrap my feet in additional padding and can get about 20 minutes in on the treadmill before my nerve pain and arthritis kick in. My knees rotate pain. My left shoulder struggles through some of the weight exercises. It took me over a year to manage a running man and burpees cause injuries every time. I have to modify because my feet can’t do the pain.

I take a prescription that makes me nauseous around a great deal of food. I can’t eat more than a quarter of a meal in one sitting right now, which I am happy about. The sickness of food is not predictable. What I ate happily for lunch yesterday could make me vomit today. And yes, I chose to go on this medication specifically because I would rather vomit at the smell of hash browns than gain any more weight. When I disappear to the bathroom during dinner outings with friends, it’s not to purge but sometimes if I eat too much too fast, I have to hang over a toilet for several minutes to maneuver my stomach enough for it to re-arrange food while spitting out saliva repeatedly to stave off vomiting. I chose this for life rather than get fatter. That’s not something to be proud of. I hoped it would have gotten me a husband by now. Not even a boyfriend.

Getting this email embarrassed me because it makes me think I must be even bigger than I see myself. Do people look at me with pity because they figure I don’t know how big I am? They pat me on the head for all my gym trips but feel sorry for me knowing nothing helps. I’m so embarrassed. For real.

I still don’t think any of this means I am required to suck 55 year old, Republican Trump loving dick. Maybe that’s just further disillusion on my part. Maybe I am supposed to accept Trump dick. Even though I am still 1% below the “obese” rank, I am still fat. Not to worry. I have re-adjusted the lens and just want everyone to know that I do know I am still fat in case you were concerned I felt good about myself.