I asked a blogger I met to describe me. I didn’t need it to be posted on his blog, but I am always curious how I am seen by others. I was looking for some honest insight and first impressions. While others have written about me (links are on my “awards and nice things” page under “it’s not all sex here”), I figure often that people are just being nice. And yes, I know this isn’t always true. I don’t generally suffer from a lack of confidence and I’m keenly aware of most of my faults.
He writes about women, and his descriptions are sexy and wonderful. They really come alive on the page. His women are stunning and sexy and hot and luscious. From my readers perspective, he seems to love a wide variety of women and to truly appreciate female beauty.
So I was looking forward to something lovely and maybe sexy. But I’m not sure why I assumed it would be lovely and sexy.
He sent me what he wrote.
The fascinating thing to me is that he used the words smart and funny. Pretty eyes. Said we had a good conversation. But, that dreaded word, used in combination with the fact that I am very tall (over 6′ in the high heels I was wearing):
I died inside.
Big? I remember using that word with Andrew and he gave me shit. Told me in no uncertain terms that I was not a big girl (and he was shorter and weighed less). It’s an internal perception I’ve struggled with my whole life. I’m tall, taller than 99% of the women I come across, and many men. I am not big boned. I’m just tall and at times, a little heavy on the bottom. Although presently I’m relatively comfortable with my weight, despite not fitting into a couple skirts I’d like to wear.
There was another descriptor that also had me horrified, because it was so different from what I expected.
In combination, these called into question how I see myself and I wondered if I was delusional. Then I got frustrated with myself – my confidence surely cannot be that tenuous. Can it?
I tried to be mature and accept the writing with grace, but it was very difficult. I’m not sure I succeeded.
To be clear, this is not a criticism of that blogger or his words. He wrote his honest opinion, and I solicited it. He did not find me sexy nor particularly attractive. Not everyone does and I am well aware of this. Of course he didn’t have to like me, or be attracted to me, or try to hit on me, or any of those things. I completely understand this. I am not a legend in my own mind.
I didn’t leave my interaction with him disappointed in any way. I wasn’t expecting more than a friendly talk, I didn’t want any more than that with him. I enjoyed the time we had together and genuinely looked forward to maybe crossing paths again.
It’s the risk I took when I agreed to meet people off-blog. It was one of the things I was nervous about. I’m not sure if I was sexy and hot in his mind before he met me. But now he knows what I look like and sound like in real life, and I read his words about me and conclude he didn’t like what he saw. My writing will probably never be the same to him. It shouldn’t matter – I hope it’s not the primary reason why people read what I write – but I can’t help think it does.
But I did think I looked pretty fine when I met him. I felt sexy and confident.
Obviously, I have some trigger words that take me right into every physical insecurity I’ve ever had. “Big” is one of them. And even with more nice words – smart, funny, pretty – I read the others and it felt to me akin to telling an obese person they have a pretty smile. Something you say when you can’t say what someone might want to hear. If my confidence that night was a balloon, it’s been deflated. With a couple of choice words.