So the reason I haven’t updated lately is because I’ve been sitting on my couch like a blob of mashed potato watching back-to-back episodes of Revenge with a selection of gourmet ice cream tubs (which I’ve been sharing with Irony, but not too much because I don’t want him turning into a Plain Plump Pussy). Wallowing, I tell you. I’ve been wallowing. It’s not an attractive look.
The catalyst for the wallow was a series of uninspiring, awkward and downright depressing dates. See, before this little experiment I was able to convince myself that what my best mate Kate said was true – that I have all this inner beauty stuff going on that will shine through and enamour unsuspecting dates. But then I went out with Critical Man.
Maybe I should’ve read between the lines when he said he likes a woman who ‘takes pride in her appearance’ in his profile. But I figured he’s seen my photos and I do try to make the best of what I have to work with, which is why I put myself through the torture of the dodgy spray tan clinic (it’s still true – brown fat looks better than white fat, proven scientific fact) and do things like shower every day and don’t wear tracky dacks outside of the house.
But anyway, as usual, my Dating Alarm was malfunctioning and so I met Critical Man for a weekend afternoon date at a café.
After the cute young waitress took our order, Critical Man shook his head and said “I don’t know why they let girls with tattoos work in the service industry. They look so tacky.” Her tattoo, mind you, was a pretty innocuous little symbol of some sort on her upper arm and didn’t look too offensive to me at all. I made a little lame “I liked it,” comment and he glared at me and told me in no uncertain terms that tattoos were like a big neon sign that the wearer has no class.
I’d ordered a muffin because I was hungry and I do like me a muffin, once I get over comparing their shape to the lower half of my body. I’d kind of fooled myself that I was the only one who noticed this phenomenon, but Critical Man looked at the muffin, looked at my tummy area, then back at the muffin.
“Are you sure you want to eat that?”
Well, yeah I was sure – it was white chocolate and raspberry. Who wouldn’t be sure? I defiantly took a big bite, but then it stuck in my throat and I began to cough and a little bit of white chocolate catapulted out and hit him. I think I was more sorry about missing out on that bit of white chocolate than the assault committed on my date though.
Critical Man then proceeded into a diatribe of how losing weight was all about having respect for yourself and calories in vs calories out and if I just had a little discipline I would be able to get myself down to a desirable weight.
Disrespectful, undisciplined me defiantly wolfed down the rest of my muffin, told him I’d rather be a bit on the plump side than a balding, big-nosed, over-critical loser and left. Not my proudest moment maybe.
So that led to the downloading of the entire first season of Revenge, the propping up of the ice cream industry and the vow to never log on to Big Dating Site again.
But then a girlfriend introduced me to meetup.com and took me along to a couple of drinks events. Meetup.com isn’t a dating site – it’s just a social site, and so far I’ve had a lovely time. So maybe that’s another avenue for Plain Plump Patty. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Thanks so much for the messages of support and for thinking of me when I haven’t been around for so long. xoxo