Hm. Well, I feel a little bit funny about my last post. I got some really nice comments – thanks, everyone – but I think I might have left a different impression than the one I intended.
Here are some things I didn’t mean to say: I didn’t mean that I could only be beautiful if I lost weight – or even that I want to lose weight. I didn’t mean that I was rethinking fat acceptance or Health at Every Size. I didn’t literally mean that I thought Writer Guy only likes me because I’d managed to fool him about my size – or that I would be crushed if it turned out that he didn’t like me all that much.
What I really meant to talk about was the unreasonable distrust I have of men who are attracted to me. My instinctive reaction is to just not believe them. To think that I must be missing something, there must be something wrong with them, that the other shoe is going to drop. I know it’s crazy. I know it’s unfair. I know that it’s all about what’s going on in my head, not theirs. Most of all, I know that I have to take people at their words and stop putting my neuroses in their mouths.
Poor Writer Guy. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into.