Filed Under: Curvy Conversations
Every big girl has their own way of dealing with their weight.
Every big girl has their own way of dealing with their weight.
The more I attended the BBW parties, the more I became aware of a stereotype: Fat chicks are desperate.
There was a certain level of wooing that some men didn’t feel the need to do at the big girl club, its like they assume that a big girl will just take what she can get.
I can recall watching a guy walk up to a gorgeous plus size diva and asking her (in the most vulgar way) if she wanted to have sex.
Another night, I noticed a man who, instead of paying to get into the club, lurked around outside asking the women who walked out if they wanted to come home with him.
Of course those are extreme examples but from the way Tony Lake treated Paige, I felt like “fat chicks are desperate” was an unspoken opinion with a lot of these guys. I knew Tony Lake wasn’t the type of guy I’d be interested in, he was just a hot guy that was fun to dance with.
Was I wrong? Should I have ignored his advances?
I kept replaying the events in my head: I barely say two words to Tony Lake, Paige kinda throws herself at him, he turns her down, and seeks me out, now Paige is mad at me.
In the end I think Tony Lake only went after me because I didn’t give him the attention he was used to getting from women at DIVAS. I knew it wasn’t my place, but a small part of me wanted to suggest to Paige that maybe her actions were playing into the big girl stereotype of desperation.
I was lost in my thoughts when the music suddenly stopped. The lights in the club came up half way and the voice of a female came over the sound system.
“Alriiight, Ladies and Gentleman…. its time for tonight’s lingerie show!”
This was the part about DIVAS that I could really do without, every Saturday night there was time set aside for a few of the women to participate or compete in events for entertainment. So far I had seen a “Big Butt Contest” a “Kissing Contest” and a “Cleavage Contest” this was the time when most of the men grabbed a seat and most of the women went out to smoke.
I went outside and found Paige and Reese huddled in conversation, when I approached they both fell silent. Paige tossed her hair over her shoulder and blew smoke up to the sky.
“We’re ready to go,” she said.
We piled into the car and rode up the highway in silence. After a while I leaned forward a little in my seat.
“Paige, are we okay?” I asked.
There was more silence.
“I guess” she replied coolly “I mean, you didn’t really know about our rule, so… I can’t really be mad at you.”
“Yeah, if I see a guy and I call him, he’s mine.”
Reese chimed in “Yeah, like… if a fine-ass guy walks in and I see him first, I’ll say to Paige ‘he’s mine’, that makes him off limits”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask “what if he’s not interested in you” but I did try to explain that when I went out with my skinny friends, we never had rules like this, but Paige and Reese weren’t having it. They had a method and they were sticking to it.
I felt like they were giving me an ultimatum. These were my first BBW friends, this was my first BBW club experience, but this concept sounded outrageous to me and I couldn’t agree to follow it. They dropped me off at my apartment and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d hear from them the next time they decided to go out.
Maybe this is what happens when a group of women, who often find themselves ignored, discover a place where they are celebrated by the opposite sex, the stakes get ridiculously high. And often when the stakes are high people get… desperate.
Last week I got an early birthday present from my parents: A Betsey Johnson Hobo Bag from the “Lotsa Luck” collection. Its a gorgeous, yet functional bag with a fun leopard print lining and an adorable horseshoe charm that hangs from the zipper.
I’ve always loved fashion, let me rephrase… I’ve always loved clothes, but have had to struggle in my relationship with fashion. Any big girl can find clothes if she wants to, but for a Plus Size Princess to stay fashionable… that’s a different story.
For the past few days I’ve been trotting around New York City with my Betsey, and I can’t help but think about how, because of my size, the only mainstream fashion items I am allowed to sport are accessories – Bags, Earrings, Sunglasses, Hats etc. and even then I’m not completely allowed, like the other day:
I walked into a boutique in the fashion district with a friend and while she jumped straight into the trendy tops and dresses, I hung out near the front of the store looking at some necklaces and rings. A rack of knit hats caught my eye, I walked over to them and as I turned the tag over to look at the price the store owner blurted out “They’re all the same size!”
Even though I love shopping its always been something I’ve done alone or with family, never with girlfriends, because I’ve always been the only plus size girl in my group of friends. Last summer I had a fashion emergency (dont ask) and had to duck into an Ashley Stewart store. Kenzie was with me and even though she probably thought nothing of it, I was so embarrassed. When I was in high school, I adopted the answer “I don’t remember” when girls asked me where I got my clothes. I guess as a 16 year old, the idea of telling my size 2 friends that they’d have to go to Lane Bryant to get the dress they admired on me wasn’t very appealing.
Yes, I know that now some designers are extending themselves to the plus size market, but whether its the sizing (I tried on a Michael Kors winter jacket in a 3x and laughed as I tried to zip it closed) the design (Tommy Hilfiger, must imagine his plus size patrons to all be over the age of 55) or even the name of the line (as a person who never really lost her baby fat, “Baby Phat” isn’t something I want stretched across my body) there always seems to be something awkward about the clothes mainstream designers make for us.
After I finish this entry I’m off to the gym, as I put in time and effort to loose weight, I’ve decided that I just want to get small enough to wear mainstream clothes. I think most mainstream shops go up to a size 10/12. That might be my goal. I have a ways to go, but sometime in the near future I’d like to stop saying “I don’t remember” when people ask me where I got my outfit.