Room for the Unpretty.

Recently a commenter on a previous blog felt the need to remind me that when it comes to men, women only have value if they fit a certain physical criteria. His exact words: “Men really don’t care about your intelligence, your wit, your charm, your job, etc. All men are genetically programmed to seek the conventionally attractive women.”

I guess his main point is that my being heavy means I’m S.O.L.

I have no value, see, because I – as a lowly woman – committed the high crime of being “ugly.”

How dare I?

Months ago Jennifer Weiner, the first writer who introduced me to plus-sized heroines starring in their own love stories, faced something similar on Twitter. She was essentially attacked for not being “conventionally attractive,” as if this invalidated her human worth in some way, despite her being personally and professionally successful.

Her opinion didn’t matter, her existence was nullified. She’s not pretty, so she doesn’t count.

And, as the commenter on my blog says, “Men don’t want heavy women and we will never hesitate to let you know it.”

How nice of them to offer this profound public service, because as far as the media is concerned we women are perfect JUST the way we are.

So these men, stuffed to the gills with their own sense of self-importance, must therefore take this great burden upon their shoulders to whip all us ugly chicks into shape as some sort of community service.

You poor little dears. Such a Herculean task, considering the average American woman is a size-14. Thank goodness you’re all already so godlike thanks to your mighty penises! Otherwise, well… I just don’t know what.

You may not be aware but apparently some guys are really miffed that some of us ladies just don’t work hard enough to make ourselves attractive for them. How dare we even try to exist when clearly we just don’t count, simply because they wouldn’t want to fuck us? Maybe we should all be flown to a tropical island out of their view so they won’t be so inconvenienced by the sight of us.

But it’d probably sink, right?


Jennifer’s response to her troll hit me square between the eyes because it was a concept I had never really considered before. She said: “Thanks. But, thing is, my job is not to be beautiful. Or give strange men boners. There is room in the world for unpretty.”

Wait, what?? You mean… you mean… I can be a human… a woman even, if a man doesn’t find me attractive??

Why isn’t this in a manual somewhere? Someone call Cosmo quick! This is groundbreaking!

I mean, can you imagine? A woman can have an opinion, express an idea, hold a job, graduate college, run for office, have a presence on social media, show her face in the world and being pretty doesn’t have to have anything to do with any of it??

Stop the presses!

This. Changes. Everything.

No matter what I’ve read, what I’ve been told, and worse – what I’ve told myself – I don’t owe it to the world to be pretty. What a load off!

I’ve been very candid over the years on how being unattractive had the unexpected benefit that jokers like these would never give me the time of day. Believe it or not, it’s a real time saver. It separates the men from the boys better than Wonder Woman’s lasso of truth, because the commenter wasn’t wrong: assholes will never hesitate to, you know, show you they’re an asshole.

While idiots like these think that no men would like me/value me/respect me/befriend me or even want me, my reality is a *tad* different. I may not be everyone’s sexual cup of tea, but most men can still treat me like a human being even if they don’t want to get me into bed. Strange, huh? There are men on this planet who know that women are more than a collection of parts assembled for sexual gratification.

That means I get to be a whole person. It’s really neat. They laugh at my jokes, consider my ideas, listen to my stories. Even when they don’t agree with me, they’re not going to shame me for being unattractive to undermine everything else I have to say. They already figured it out I didn’t owe it to them to be pretty, so they can just accept me as I am.

The only guys who buy into this antiquated idea that it’s my job to do everything in my power to attract them as a sexual partner, simply because I’m a woman and they’re a man and biology, duh, are the ones I would never want in the first place.

I know this will come as a HUGE surprise to some of you guys out there, but I don’t give a shit if you find me attractive. I’m not out to fuck you. It’s not because I hate men or am bitter or frustrated or frigid. I like sex. I like it quite a lot. I’ve created a whole career out of it. I like men, too. As frustrated as I get with your gender at times, thanks to interactions with guys like the commenter mentioned above, I really, really like men. I wouldn’t want a world without ya. I even have a weakness for your swagger. Men in my life outnumber the women. I live with three. My best friend is a man. And I have a laminated list of those I find to be the best of the best. I’m attracted to men and enjoy the company of men.

But that doesn’t mean I want to fuck all of them. On this planet, at this moment, I can count the men I’d fuck on one hand. You have a better chance of being hit by lightning, or winning the lottery, than landing in my lascivious crosshairs.

Simply put: I don’t care to pick the lowest hanging fruit on the tree. That may be what some of YOU think I deserve, but – again – that is not my reality. I have a ridiculously high standard… and guys who think I should change for their approval would NEVER make the list. Even if I didn’t wear wedding rings on my finger, my days of chasing after assholes ended a long, long time ago.

Regardless of what you think, I don’t seek to earn the sexual desire of each and every man that I meet. Because I’m married and faithful, your sexual desire has no practical purpose for me. Neither my survival nor my happiness depends on it. Even if I was single, I reserve the right to pick and choose those who might earn (and be rewarded with) my interest.

If you are the kind of guy who can’t recognize that very fundamental truth, you ain’t it.

If you don’t want me because I dare to be an ugly woman… it’s not my job in the least little bit to care.

*I* don’t want *you.*

Weren’t expecting that, were ya?

You may be wondering why I wouldn’t be interested in all that business between your legs, because obviously you’re this brimming specimen of a masculinity, one who clearly has to fight the ladies off with a stick. (N’ you carry a big one if youknowwhatimsayin’, ammiright??) You attract everything in a three mile radius with a vagina, so *clearly* you need to remind us fat chicks we don’t stand a chance just to preserve your precious energy.

Thanks for the information, I guess? Imma just go live my life now anyway, kay?

What you *really* mean is no man like YOU would want me for real. Frankly, that’s not the incentive to change that you think it is.

I’ll make it simple for you and use small words.

I don’t want to fuck you.

No, really. I don’t. This ain’t my first rodeo, sugar dumplin’. I’ve slept with a my share of men in my day, including men who thought they were god’s gift to the ladies. More often than not they were sadly misinformed. The best lovers have always been those men who valued the whole of a woman, not just how her “parts” were assembled. Great sex is more than just what happens when tab A inserts into Slots B, C or D. (Or E or F if you wanna get a little adventurous.)

Guys who are willing to dismiss a woman’s appeal as a person, with her wit, charm, intelligence, talent, humor or kindness, simply because she doesn’t fit into some narrow, simplistic opinion of physical attractiveness, don’t have the imagination required to interest me in sex.

And frankly, I don’t mind telling you that.

So you see, you don’t have to worry about my weight because I’m not in the running to be your sexual partner.

You wanna know something else? Something really, super cool? Since I don’t want to sleep with you, how you rate my desirability is really none of my concern.

You don’t have to worry about me at all. Yay, right? Your burden just got a WHOLE lot lighter.

Good news for you, there are plenty of girls out there who give a shit what you think, who think so poorly of themselves, they’ll let you run their esteem into the ground because they think they deserve it.

But that’s not me, nor any other quality woman I know.

So rest easy knowing that I don’t want anything from you.

The even better news is I don’t owe you anything, up to and including a forum to spew your narrow-minded point of view.

So no further anonymous, trollish, shaming, insulting, demeaning comments will be approved, ESPECIALLY if they’re written by someone without the cajones to sign their own name.

Now bugger off. And have a nice day.


6 thoughts on “Room for the Unpretty.

  1. 3 words: You.Go.Girl. I always say, superficial intentions lead to superficial outcomes and in this case: relationships. People ARE visual and that can lead to an initial attraction but substance is what makes them stay. A braindead, size two does NOT beat a brilliant size 12 unless you are looking for a trophy. And in that case, it’s more than likely gonna cost ya! Keep shining sister!

  2. Well said! I admit I have always had self-esteem issues since I was picked on as a kid in school. I have learned to accept it a lot more and not worry so much about it, and that has been very beneficial. I have great relationships with guys because it is based on friendship, on me being me, and not being ashamed I am not perfect, and REAL MEN appreciate that. It took awhile to reach this point, but being happy with who you are is a heck of lot more fun than trying to be what someone else thinks is attractive.
    And finally, why do men get to make all these decisions? Why do we have to be beautiful and thin when they get to go bald and get beer bellies? Nothing pisses me off more than to hear a man judging a women based on her looks when he the best he could do is get a blue ribbon at the county fair.
    Judge not lest ye be judged.

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