“Can I have your number?”
I hesitated. His charming gaze was warm and inviting as we chatted.
“Isn’t this fun? Don’t you want to see me again?”
We were indeed having a good time, and I did want to see him again. Having recently relocated 3,000 miles away from my hometown, I was eager for a fresh start, longing to connect with new people beyond the high school where I was one of the few queer and plus-size kids. I had hoped for new relationships that would flourish away from the familiar pressures of my past.
Just a week into my new life, the reality of my decision washed over me like a tidal wave. In seeking anonymity, I found myself feeling isolated in a city where I didn’t know anyone. I was adrift and longing for a safe space.
Then, in a lively college bar, a beacon of hope appeared. I shyly scribbled my number on a cocktail napkin and handed it to him. “I’ll call you,” he promised. My heart fluttered—perhaps I had found my safe harbor.
However, as he walked back to his friends, their laughter suddenly turned on me. They pointed, exchanged glances, and I could feel the sting of their judgment. Their expressions were a mixture of disgust and intrigue, and I could only watch as they reveled in my discomfort.
The reality of that moment hit me hard; shame coursed through my veins. My size felt like a target, making me feel monstrous and vulnerable. I was reminded of the cruel joke our society plays: Who could possibly want a plus-size woman?
It’s been over a decade since that incident, yet the pain lingers. I can still feel the heat of embarrassment and the sharpness of tears. The isolation that followed weighed heavily on me—each encounter serving as a reminder of the barriers I faced in being loved and accepted.
Every day, I hear the echoes of that moment. Snide comments about relationships between thinner partners and plus-size individuals resurface, and I often hear remarks about how I would be more desirable if I lost weight. The specter of doubt looms large: how could anyone truly want a plus-size person, let alone love one?
Later that same year, I was in the campus dining hall when a friend declared, “I’m not eating—who would want to marry me looking like this?”
At work years later, a colleague sighed over a magazine featuring same-sex couples. “Why do they have to show the plus-size lesbians? Some of us are fit,” she lamented. “How did she find a partner?”
Those questions linger in the air, taunting us, and just last month, a man on a dating app sent me a message that read, “Why are you sabotaging yourself here?” His critique was directed at my profile pictures—two lovely photos of my face followed by one of my body. It felt as though my existence was being scrutinized, reducing me to an object of ridicule.
Plus-size individuals are often reminded that society views us with fear and disdain. When we dare to seek love—authentic, mutual, and sincere love—we are met with insurmountable stereotypes and harsh realities. We’re conditioned to be grateful for any attention, even if that attention is harmful.
The emotional consequences of this societal bias are profound. It teaches us that if we are plus-sized, we cannot also be loved. We internalize the belief that our worth is tied to our size, and that intimacy is a privilege we haven’t earned.
Last spring, while working in my favorite coffee shop, I noticed a young man sitting nearby. He was lean and stylish, and when our eyes met, I felt a jolt of recognition. But instead of warmth, I felt the weight of past judgments. My instinct was to retreat, believing the harsh narrative that my body precluded me from being desired.
That evening, I shared my experience with a friend. “What if he liked you?” she suggested. I paused, grappling with the idea. I had been so conditioned to dismiss any possibility of attraction to me that I hadn’t even considered it.
My history taught me that being plus-sized rendered me undesirable. I often felt that desire aimed at me was misguided or a sign of desperation. Each romantic interest felt like a leap of faith, and intimacy was often met with fear of humiliation.
This reality is the insidious triumph of body shaming: it stops us from pursuing love before we even begin. It thrives on our belief that our bodies render us unworthy of affection.
Despite the challenges, it’s crucial to remember that two-thirds of Americans are plus-sized. We are a vibrant community, rich in diversity and experience. Many plus-size individuals live fulfilling lives, deeply loved by friends, family, and partners.
I have a dear friend who recently got married, surrounded by a loving community. She and her partner complement each other beautifully, supporting one another through life’s challenges. Their love is a testament to the happiness that exists outside society’s narrow expectations.
Loving a plus-size person is not impossible. The key is to cultivate a culture that recognizes and celebrates this love.
Start by loving a plus-size individual. Understand her journey. Her body may have seen battles and scars, but it is also a testament to strength and resilience. Walk gently through her experiences; respect the terrain of her heart.
Let her express her feelings and find her voice. Remember that her story is uniquely hers, rich with depth. Speak her name with reverence and kindness. In this quiet space, she has created a world of love and understanding—be a part of that.
Love her as if you are exploring uncharted territory, with curiosity and respect.
Summary
This article explores the profound complexities of loving and being loved as a plus-size person. It shares personal anecdotes of experiences with body shaming, societal expectations, and the journey toward self-acceptance and genuine connection. Ultimately, it emphasizes the importance of fostering a culture that recognizes the beauty of love in all its forms, encouraging readers to embrace and uplift plus-size individuals.