I went to the Maryland Writer’s Association meeting on Friday night, and of course, immediately felt at home. I knew only one person there, but as soon as I stepped into the lounge at Ukazoo, I was surrounded by my people, happily nerding around. I don’t really fit in anywhere, unless I am in a room full of writers, most of whom usually don’t really fit in anywhere else, either.
There were two open chairs, one in front of the other. My impulse was to sit next to the good looking guy about my age, but I didn’t. I was concerned that he would think that I was flirting if I chose that chair and started talking to him, even though I wasn’t planning on flirting, but then again most men are kind of dense anyway, and when the hell did I ever start worrying about this, and how on earth am I ever going to find male friends at this late date without making a mess, so maybe I do need to meet some gay men because the other major deficiency in my life right now is a friend who will tell me what to wear.
I chose the seat next to a woman a few years my senior. The readings were a lot of fun. Some were terrific, some were less than terrific, but mostly it was nice to be in an atmosphere of regard for the creative process in all its stages.
The good looking guy behind me got up and read an essay about being fat: a recounting of his journey from husky to portly, with a few stops at L and XL along the way. It was a good essay, very funny, and well delivered. Of course, I could relate. When he walked back to his seat, I wanted to say, “You’re gorgeous!” but there was no way to do this without arousing attention, even among a group of me-ish people. So, I stifled it and thought about what to say to him after the meeting ended.
When I saw him after the meeting, he was talking to a large, very talented lady poet, who told him that for girls’ clothing, there was no euphemism like “husky,” when she was a child, there were just “chubby” sizes. As I stood there in my little size two red and white checked dress, it occurred to me that my input, however complimentary, might not be well received. There was a time when I would have hated some one like me for being there. “But I KNOW!” I thought. “You don’t know what I know! Ate my way through a divorce! Had a guy say I’d be hot if I lost weight in high school! Was referred to as my best friend’s ‘fine fat friend’ in elementary school! (even though I was actually a normal weight for my size – just bigger all over than everyone else, but still.) And that time in college, when I stopped looking at the scale because I was so upset by how much I weighed, then went up at least another whole size, but I don’t actually know what size I was in women’s clothing because I would only wear mens jeans so I didn’t have to find out, and the size I wore in mens is the same size that Scott wears now and he outweighs me by nearly eighty pounds. It took me thirty years to get this under control and to stand here in front of you, being some one I’d have hated for most of my life.”
I didn’t say anything. But, guy who wrote the husky essay: if we cross paths again and you happen upon my blog, I still think you are gorgeous, inside and out, and I loved your essay.
