Dating while Fat

Focus on the Fun, the Men will Follow

Wolf and Red by Shefali O’Hara

When my husband left me, I was 49 years old, fat and had only one breast. Plus I was an emotional wreck.

I spent a month dumpster diving through the heartache of my emotions. Anger and grief consumed me.

I allowed myself to go as deep into the negative as I needed. I gave myself permission to feel as deeply as was necessary. Snot dripped from my nose in streams and filled vast piles of Kleenex.

Then, my catharsis over, I emerged renewed.

I decided to date again. Why not? He’d left me for another woman. I’d find myself a newer, better man.

I realize this sounds sorta like revenge — not the best motivation for finding true love. However, it got me out of the house.

I joined meet-ups. I checked out possibilities at church. I flirted with men in the supermarket and when I went to pick up a rental car. I smiled at the cop who stopped me for speeding. This didn’t result in a date, but it did get me off with a warning.

I was having fun, but so far no dates.

The big elephant in the room, at least to me, was the way I looked.

When I’d met my ex-husband, I was 28 years old and shapely. I still have a shape, but it’s quite different…