Fitzwilliam Darcy: Famous Fictional Heartthrob

If you do not know who Fitzwilliam Darcy is, you are dead to me. And quite obviously you are dead to the world, too.

I might be stereotyping here, but I would wager that 95% of women who have read Pride and Prejudice are in love with Mr. Darcy. Add on all the converts from the many film adaptations and mini-series and you are dealing with a hefty number of women all loving and lusting after this fictional man.

He is the ultimate hunk of burnin' love in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. He is mysterious, handsome, loyal, confident, caring, intelligent, and everything a gentleman should be. Yes, he is a bit too prideful and a bit high strung. Plus he can come off as a huge douche. But, as he falls in love with Elizabeth, the love begins to soften him. Their love allows them to both grow together. It is a true partnership and each lends something to the other. It is by far my favorite love story.

I have at least read this book over twenty times.

I am not delusional. I know that Mr. Darcy will never leap from the pages and into my bed...I mean arms. But, that does not mean that I do not daydream about this fictional heartthrob entering my life, loving me fully and ardently.

This daydream that many women (and men I am sure) have shared was transformed into a book and then a BBC mini-series and now a movie in production called Lost in Austen. It is a story of how a contemporary woman, who has read the book too many times to count and has a huge lady boner for Darcy, switches places with Elizabeth Bennet. Shenanigans ensue. No one marries who they should, Bingley becomes a drunk bastard, Caroline Bingley is a lesbian, Wickham turns out to be a stand-up guy, and Jane marries Mr. Collins. In the end, Darcy falls in love with the woman who switches places with Elizabeth and she decides to stay in the perfect fictional world with the perfect fictional gentleman.

I just watched Lost in Austen and I hated it. HATED IT.

Why?

Because the woman, Amanda, and Mr. Darcy do not share that connection that Elizabeth and Darcy do. Yes, there are similar parallels, but Amanda and Darcy never really talk. They yell at each other, but Darcy just all the sudden is like, "Vulgar slutty woman, I love you. Let us marry."

It was too unbelievable for me. I ultimately wanted to puke after watching Lost in Austen.

What is so great about Elizabeth and Darcy is the way they both have to work through their own misgivings and flaws. During the relationship, they learn more about themselves and grow. They are able to bring out the best in each other. They even have witty conversations and flirtatious interactions. Which is something Lost in Austen was lacking.

I admit that if I found a genie in a bottle, one of my 3 wishes would be Mr. Darcy. (Other two: endless supply of books and endless supply of saltwater taffy) But quite honestly, in reality, I do not want to marry Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy or an exact doppelganger. Maybe not even an exact model of him. Lost in Austen verifies this. I pretty much hated the Mr. Darcy in that movie. He looked like Darcy, shared some of the same qualities...but that was not enough.

What I really do want is a mutual partnership like Darcy and Elizabeth. Someone who can see my flaws, respect me, love me, and help me grow as a person. I want to be that person for that guy, too.

I have come to realize that it is not really Mr. Darcy, international man of intrigue, that I want. It is the love him and Elizabeth have that I want.

Here is to finding that love and my own Mr. Darcy.

To end.....a picture of my favorite Mr. Darcy....Colin Firth.

A Man of Slim to None Intelligence

If I were ever asked how many times my heart has been broken, I am sure I would reply with at least seven times:

1) Hank in Fifth Grade
2) Jablonski in Eighth Grade
3) John in Ninth Grade
4) Jablonski in Twelfth Grade
5) Nathan, Freshman year of college
6) John Doe, Freshman year of college
7) Man of Slim to None Intelligence, Sophomore-Senior year of college

I am sure I could add to that list, too. We all have little heart breaks here and there, especially in high school. Your crush does not return the feelings you have for him. He starts dating a different girl. But, we do not tend to remember them. They are small blips on our time lines of love. Infinitesimal heartaches that lack any real cleaving of the heart.

But, there is always that big one. That one heartbreak that seems like it will forever be an open wound. Try as you might, you just cannot get it back together, make it as whole, as strong. No matter how many pints of ice cream you eat, no matter how many tears you cry, no matter how many things you throw, and no matter how what ifs? you ask, your heart remains broken.

I feel weak confessing that this is a point I am at in my life. If you know me, you know who Man of Slim to None Intelligence (or NoIQ as I will call him now) is. I am sure you are tired of hearing about him or seeing me talk about him, so I apologize for the rest of this post. Just try to bear with me though.

I can sum up the four years of our relationship pretty quickly: I had a crush on him Fall semester freshmen year, we hooked up the following summer, he wanted to be fuck buddies and I said no, he asked me to date and I said yes, he told me he was indifferent toward me and I broke up with him, he had heart surgery then told me I was the only important thing in his life and we started dating again, we dated for five months and then I broke up with him for various reasons, we kept in touch and kept hooking up until he told me he had stopped hooking up with another girl he failed to tell me about, fights and make ups for the next two years.....until finally this summer he started dating a new girl who forbid him to talk/see me and thus ended our relationship.

At one point in this fucked up relationship we talked about getting married. Even at our worst, he always talked about how our time was not now, but we would have our time to be together. How one day we would get married.

I know that sounds dumb, and so will the following statement. I always held out hope for that future. I cannot honestly tell you why. Most of the time NoIQ drove me nuts or made me sad. He refused to tell his parents we were dating at first and also hid it from his brother. He called me fat once while we were having sex. He refused to pick me up one time when I was having a crappy day and my car broke down. He told me he was indifferent toward me. He blamed me for bad grades. He two-timed me with a girl. Etc, etc...

I never stayed up at night when we were apart hoping to get back together, longing for it. But, when he so abruptly removed himself from my life, I realized how much I had depended on him and hoped in him.

Dumb, right? My best friend can tell you how lame that relationship was and how better off I am without him. I know I am, too. He never loved me like I loved him and he always had that power over me. He used me over and over again, and I am sad to say I let him.

After having this epiphany, I decided to take him completely out of my life. I deleted him off Facebook and from my phone. I emailed him one last time.

It has been about four months now. I am past a lot of the violent and crying tendencies associated with a broken heart now. But I do take certain measures like not listening to certain songs and avoiding certain memories when the creep up. I do not think about him every day now. I do not dream about him anymore.

Yet, I do feel like a part of me is missing in a weird way.

I invested so much in him. So much. It is just so hard to not have that part of myself.

I think that is the hardest part about broken hearts. You eventually will put them back together. But, there will be that one little sliver missing that cannot be replaced. It leaves a small gap that after time you hardly notice, yet it is always there.

Here is the deal: I am fine most days. I go without thinking about him or missing him. It is just those days when a smell reminds me of him. Or when Cherry Pie comes on the radio. Or when a memory creeps up on me. Those moments I do miss him, briefly.

In the end, though, I know I am better off without him. He seriously was a Man of Slim to None Intelligence and one day I will find a Man of Real Intelligence that will make NoIQ a distant heart ache.

A Way With Words

I am reading this book, Why We Love: The Nature and Chemistry of Romantic Love. It was written by Helen Fisher, who is an anthropologist and overall bad ass. The whole book is based on how she proved, with other scientists and using brain scans, that "When you fall in love, specific areas of the brain 'light up' with increased blood flow." She also argues that "romantic passion is hardwired into our brains by millions of years of evolution. It is not an emotion; it is a drive as powerful as hunger."

The books is not too technical, and I will spare you the details, but she makes some pretty compelling arguments on how chemicals of the brain play a role in romantic love, attachment, and lust, and the way these chemicals interact with each other influences our need for love.

What I find interesting is how she links love to an evolutionary necessity for the human race. She posits that love has been hardwired into our brains so we can effectively procreate and protect our young. She talks of why men seek certain women and women seek certain men; it is so we can copulate and produce healthy, strong babies.

Now for what this post is really about....

In one part of the book she states that most of our human flair (singing, complex language, wit, etc. Most of the things are superfluous for basic survival) came to be because humans needed to show off for a mate. Our ancestors needed to show how they were superior and more intelligent.

Basically, they needed to show they were the bee's knees. The cat's meow.

Fisher believes that language is a woo-ing tool: "But with words they could also woo. Men and women could tell clever stories, chant sexy tunes, and entice would-be lovers with insightful thoughts. With words, our forebears could flatter, tempt, and tease. As primitive human language gradually emerged, our forebears must have begun our endless human chat about, and with, 'him' and 'her'."

In another part she states that "women are more pragmatic and realistic when they love." Which means that women deliberate on a mate or commitment to a mate for a longer period of time than men. (Because....we spend nine months of our lives carrying a baby around and an average of four years caring for that baby. We have to be discriminating on that sort of thing.)

In this section she also explains that women are more eager to "choose tall, symmetrical [more attractive] men with chiseled cheekbones and rugged jaws [signs of high levels of testosterone], men who are likely to have sturdy genes."

So...not only does Helen Fisher prove how the brain lights up during love, she also proves that I, Chelsea Magruder, have a keen eye for a perfect mate.

Yes, you might have thought...Chelsea, you are expecting too much from a mate. Why would you ever think you would find a guy with chiseled cheekbones, a rugged jaws, insightful thoughts, a way with words and who is highly symmetrical?

Because, my friends, I am a pragmatic woman looking for a worthy mate. Obviously I am just not settling for a weakling with inferior genes. I am looking for a man to copulate, procreate and perpetuate with. This is serious business.

You might then say...Chelsea...this man does not exist! These are ridiculous standards and expectations!!!

To this I answer....Oh yeah?.....

My Love That Never Was

This is the epic story of Jablonski. Which is not his real name, just a name that came to be.

So...I went to school with this guy since we were in Kindergarten. That is thirteen years. Which is over half of my life. Which is a long time.

He was THE guy in my class since our wee days. You know, the one guy who is cocky, kind of a bully, all the girls think he is cute, jock, he always has girls interested, popular. THE guy.

Well, I remember in elementary school him and I were enemies. I can distinctly remember in third grade talking to my little girlfriends about him. They were talking about him as if he were a Greek god. Zeus in the flesh. I was like...but he is mean and a jerk. I said this because I was a tomboy. He would make fun of me and tell me I could not play football or kickball because I was a girl. Plus, he made fun of me because I was a goody goody and a nerd. So...my nine year old self thought this guy was a meanie head, not Zeus.

After this he appeared to lead the smear campaign against me for the rest of elementary school and into junior high school. He called me a bitch and he was the clever Jenny Craig inventor. He continued to be a meanie head and I continued to be my good little girl self. We just had this almost unspoken animosity for each other all those years. Never really talked except to exchange insults. He dated my best friends and treated them poorly. I was still not convinced he was Zeus.

High school came and he was still THE guy. He played all three sports. Dated popular girls. Drank beer. Smoked Pot. Had average grades. The smear campaign against me stopped. I still thought he was a meanie. I am sure he still thought of me as a goody goody nerd.

Then came senior year. I really cannot tell you what changed exactly. But something did. We sat near each other in English. We started talking more. He told me about hunting. I told him about books I was reading. I stopped thinking he was a meanie head. I started to think he was cute.

By the time December came, I had a big crush on him. I was pretty sure he liked me, too. So, in a brave move, I asked him to Winter Formal. He denied me. I was crushed. He went with a sophomore instead.

Well, he knew I was upset. He wrote me a letter asking why. He liked being my friend and did not want me to be mad at him. So, right before Christmas break I wrote him a letter back telling him how I was upset because I really wanted to go with him because I liked him and I thought he liked me, too.

This was a breakthrough. After that letter, we started driving around on the weekends. We started writing more letters to each other. We would call each other pretty frequently. He asked me to Prom (I almost died, I swear to Pikachu). He gave me Starburst wrappers (I collected them). He would wait for me by my locker. We would walk together between classes. We went to Prom together.

Despite all this togetherness, we were never officially together. We just were. And we never kissed. Just held hands.

Then I left for college. When I came back he would be there. We would hang out and talk. He did not go to college. He just stuck around. But we did start to lose touch with each other and by the end of my freshman year, I hardly talked to him at all. Yet, that summer we were at the same field party. He told me he really liked me and that he could see himself marrying me. I told him that I liked him, but he cannot just say something like that after not calling me or talking to me at all for months.

I still run into him from time to time. I did tonight actually. He calls me randomly, too. Checking up on me.

Here is the damn truth. I still have the biggest crush on this guy. Talking to him still makes me go weak in the knees. I get cotton mouth. I get butterflies. I NEVER do that. Even with strangers or on interviews. I am a confident, collected person. With him...not so much.

We have little common. I am a nerd, bookworm. He is a hunter, hands on guy.

But there is a connection. Physically: He has the best smile/smirk ever. And the bluest eyes I have ever seen. They make me melt. I still think of him playing basketball. There was nothing I loved more than watching him play. His body running up and down the court. Everything moving in harmony. It was such a turn on. I always wanted to explore those muscles I saw working so hard on the court, working together. Emotionally: He was a great listener. We never talked on and on. We were comfortable in silence with each other, which I loved. He was sweeter than he put off. He liked me because I was smart. He believed in me. He gave me confidence when I had little.

I know. I know. Chelsea, this is crazy talk. Just hear me out.

This is where the fake love comes in. Sometimes I just wonder if I build Jablonski up because we had this innocent love. We never kissed for crying out loud (although I wanted to, oh did I want to). It was perfect in its incomplete nature. I never dealt with any major issues with him. We have never even gone on a real date. I just think I built him up in my mind because he was the first guy to ever tell me I was smart and tell me I could get out of Norwich. I was eighteen when this happened. I had no concept of love. I did not even know myself. And, for all this good I remember, there is a lot of bad that happened, too. But I easily discard that because I want to remember him as that Perfect Guy. I look at my other relationships with guys over the years and stack them up against Jablonski. He always comes out the winner.

In summation, it was fake love.

And now I want that fake love back. That two-dimensional, flat love. I want to be that eighteen year old naive girl. I have been fucked over so much by three-dimensional guys. They never are what I need/want them to be. I know too much to think love is pure or innocent.

I kept all of his letters. I kept the corsage. I know it will not work out. But, damn it, I want it. I want him.

I guess, mostly, I wish love was simple like that. A dumb wish, because the complexities of life and love make it all more worth while and richer. But after having my heart broken really badly, that is what I want.

I want fake love. But that's all I want, and that's why I can't have it.

Faking It

"This is why I will never be completely satisfied by a woman, and this is why the kind of woman I tend to find attractive will never be satisfied by me. We will both measure our relationship against the prospect of fake love."

"I want fake love. but that's all I want, and that's why I can't have it."-Chuck Klosterman, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs

This is seriously one of my favorite topics to think about, write about or talk about. Fake love. I am fascinated with love. How people define in, the pursuit of it, sonnets, ballads...just about everything.

Now, I know I have only lived a paltry twenty-three years on this earth and that you might balk at me for thinking I know anything about love or relationships, but I swear to Pikachu that about twenty-one of those years have been used to brainwash me into wanting an unobtainable goal, LOVE. So..I admit to not being an authority, but I think we are all experts on this subject in our own ways.

I can trace back my longing for LOVE, the mind-blowing, earth-shattering, Prince Charming LOVE, to Disney and Barbie. I am not solely blaming popular culture for my current melancholy and spinster status, but I do think that pop culture sure did set me up.

Take for instance Barbie and Ken. Plastic people with an endearing LOVE. I remember watching commercials for their wedding back in the '80s and I remember my talking Barbie telling me about how she hopes Ken will call her. I remember Barbie's dream house. Basically I remember Barbie and Ken being a perfect couple who got married, rode horses together, enjoyed hanging out by their pool together, roller bladed together, and did freaking EVERYTHING TOGETHER.

Growing up I thought that true love meant doing everything together, spending every waking moment with the other person. I dreamed of finding my no-penis plastic man like Ken and doing all the fun stuff Barbie and Ken did. But...assessing this now, I could never handle being an extreme couple like this. I would lose myself and define myself by the "us" and I would get super annoyed of doing everything with my main squeeze.

Another example...Disney. I really do not need to expand on this...but seriously. Someday My Prince Will Come. So This Is Love. Once Upon a Dream. Beauty and the Beast. Obviously we all knew growing up that we would not happen to cross paths with a prince, but damn it if I did not think I would run into a super attractive male who within a second would fall in love with me and burst out into a romantic song of how he has waited his whole life for a woman like me.

As I got older my pop culture references and influences changed to movies and music. Same thing occurred. Daily I would encounter people meeting and falling in love. Yes, nothing was ever perfect, but these two-dimensional people and relationships set the pace for what I expected from my real three-dimensional relationships.

This is the reason I am writing this. Here is my confession:

I honestly thought when I was eighteen and getting ready to leave for college that I would fall in love with a tall, blue-eyed man who loved literature and be married at the age of twenty-four.

I can tell you right now that I will not be married by twenty-four. I do not even know if I will get married.

I just freaks me out that at one time I was sooooo sure that I could find someone so two-dimensional and that I would want that person. Like, I would think of all these qualities this person should possess and then POOF! he exists.

I know this post is kind of just me rambling, but it is important for the next post. For in the next post I will talk about my ultimate crush to end all crushes, Jablonski and the major role fake love has directly played in my love life.

The Man That Got Away...

Ever since this world began
There is nothing sadder than
A one-man woman looking for
The man that got away...
-The Man That Got Away, Judy Garland from A Star Is Born

First some background:

I am an avid fan of Gilmore Girls. Amy Sherman-Palladino, the creator of and writer for the show, introduced me to Dorothy Parker, The Way We Were and A Star Is Born. Lorelai Gilmore is a woman I want to be, minus the pregnancy at age sixteen. She is smart, funny, strong and witty. The biggest compliment I have ever received is when a man told me I looked like Lorelai Gilmore.

Now...in Gilmore Girls you wait since the very first episode for Lorelai and Luke Danes to get together. And finally, in season five they do. If I am pessimistic or in a foul mood, I watch the episodes when they go on their first day, they have their kiss and when he builds her an ice rink. Yet, they have a split up in the middle of the season. The day after they brake up, Lorelai calls Luke and leaves a message on his answering machine where she rambles on and on about The Way We Were and Hubbell and Katie. Eventually, they do get back together and when they do, Lorelai is watching A Star is Born and "The Man That Got Away" is playing in the background.

I Netflix-ed The Way We Were and A Star is Born because of those references in Gilmore Girls and LOVED them both. On the surface they are super depressing. They both end with the supposed love of the leading lady's life leaving her. In The Way We Were Hubbell leaves Katie after moving to California, making memories that cloud the corners of one's mind, and having a daughter. In A Star is Born (original screenplay written by none other than Dorothy Parker) Norman kills himself after Esther becomes a bright new star while his star fades and his alcoholism takes over his life. (Interesting side note....Barbara Streisand stars in a remake of A Star is Born with Kris Kristofferson in 1976)

But for me these two movies tell a more true story of love and romance, or at least present a reality I can more easily accept. I think in the end they have a more powerful, positive message.

Here is the part I find most interesting about the relationships in those two movies: Both relationships are doomed from the start. There is something fundamentally wrong or unequal with the relationship that will prevent it from ever being that happily-ever-after we all seem to crave.

Katie devoted herself to Hubbell. She moved out to California with him, hung out with his less than politically knowlegdeable friends and had his child. She involved herself with his friends and entertained them even though she was not a huge fan of them. Most importantly, Katie was the only person who truly believed in his writing ability and urged him to write his novel.

But....Hubbell was less committed to her. He would not stand up for her and her ideals. He didn't show her the encouragement or devotion she showed him. He resented her for her strong personality and her convictions. He was embarrassed of her communist sympathies. And sadly, he left her after she had their daughter. Hubbell found her intriguing and he may have loved her at one point, but it was not an enduring love.

Esther and Norman had a relationship based upon power and control. At the start Norman had the power, but that quickly changed. Esther was the nobody to start with and Norman was the prized star of Hollywood. With Norman's assistance, Esther rose to become the new It girl of Hollywood. But, Norman's alcoholism began to take over his life and slowly his career began to suffer. Instead of blaming himself for his failing career, Norman began to resent Esther and was furious that he had ever given her the chance to become someone. He was envious of her and her success. Despite his anger towards her, Esther would nurse Norman back to health and support him. Finally, Norman takes responsibility for his actions and not being able to deal with that responsibility or the fact that he has become a burden to Esther, kills himself. I think, personally, he could not deal with the fact the she so fully and completely loved him and he basically just shat all over that love time and time again.

I have not had an earth moving or shattering love like Hubbell and Katie or Esther and Norman. But, I have fancied myself in love before. I have felt connected to a member of the opposite sex more, been more intimate emotionally, physically and mentally with that one person more than I ever thought possible. In my one serious relationship I fully and completely gave myself to the other person, only to be shat on repeatedly. I was all in while he was just partly in. I am sure he loved me for a brief moment or that he had convinced himself that he loved me. But like Hubbell, he lacked an enduring love and like Norman, I think he could not stand not being in control. And like Esther and Katie....that man got away.

Which, yes, is depressing and sad. I have spent more energy and effort, tears and screams, and time and frustration on this guy than I ever want to admit. Like my female counterparts, I have felt abandonded and sad. The one man that I gave myself completely to turned out to not truly want me or deserve me.

BUT...and this is a big BUT...that is the way it should be. We are all better off for getting out of those relationships. Like I said...they were never going to work out from the start. I knew that with my relationship, which started because I refused to be a fuck buddy so he decided he would just cave in and date me, the man would never really want to be my boyfriend. I knew this just as Katie knew Hubbell would never grow a spine or Esther knew Norman would never love her as much as he loved his booze. Although we were in love, it was not the right love because it was not an equal partnership; we loved the man that got away more than he loved us.

I look at Katie and Esther though and think of what they accomplished after that man got away. Katie went on to pursue her political activism and Esther went on to win an Oscar. These women are strong and show us that just because we lose that one guy, that one love, does not mean our lives are over. There is a future before us. We are better for loving that man and going on to do more.

So...this is the moral to my story: The man that got away broke my heart. It was sad. It still is sad on some days. Yet, I am better off without him, for it gives me room to become someone great.

The man that got away was just getting out of my way.

A Weighty Issue

Okay. We all know there is one big thing you never comment on to a lady; her weight.

Yes, I will not lie, it is nice to hear "You are skinny," but a simple change of "are" to "look" and adding an extra adverb "today" can screw you over. Commenting on weight is a tricky, fickle thing.

I was a pretty active person growing up. In the summer I would play softball, basketball, and swim for swim team. In junior high and high school I played basketball and volleyball, had a small stint with track, and played club volleyball and MAYB basketball in the summer. Plus, I lifted weights and ran during the summer in high school for volleyball training. This gave me a pretty nice frame. I was never reed thin. I have always had my curves and my ass and my hips and my boobs. But, I looked pretty nice.

Well...college happened. I gained some weight, which I think is typical of most people. I just was not as active and fast food was a staple of my diet. This just added to my curves and gave me a little extra padding.

Now, yes, I do wish I could lose about 20 pounds and go back to my high school weight. And yes, as a girl, I am a little extra sensitive about my weight. And, as stated before, the clever boys in my class use to call me weighty nicknames such as "Free Willy" and "Jenny Craig." So...one could say weight is not my favorite subject.

But...I doubt it is anyone's favorite subject. Women especially. We all feel the pressure to be that size 0 or 2. And like I said, commenting on weight is a tricky business.

Here are some experiences where I was not the only huge elephant sitting in the room:

#1: Pants
I was making out with this guy. We had made out before and it was fun. He was cute and he made me laugh, so overall, I was pleased. We started to go horizontal, like most make out sessions go, and I was on top. Articles of clothes start to come off. Then, boy starts to undo my pants. Okay, no big deal. But, then he tries to pull them off while I am straddling him. I was getting ready to shift to make this endeavor more successful when he decides to comment on my weight: "Maybe you should get a bigger pair of pants."

Umm......excuse me? Unless I am wearing tear away pants, I have no idea how the hell you though that these pants were coming off.

It didn't stop there though. He went on to say...."I have no idea how you even get those on. You should really get a larger size." I then said, "I have no issues with it, and no one else ever has. See, it is quite simple." I then proceeded to take on and off my pants within thirty seconds.

#2: Pillow Talk
Again, this takes place during a make out session. This time I was with someone a little more serious, someone I had been dating for awhile. While making out, we again start the horizontal thing and start shedding some clothes. Then, again, the comment comes: "Have you been gaining weight?"

This one occurred again when I was on top and this boy was grabbing me by the waist.

Hmm...a weird approach to some dirty talk. Oh, yeah...Tell me how fat I am. Smother me in gravy.

#3: Comparative Analysis
I found some old pictures from high school on the computer at my house. So, I decided to post them on facebook. A couple of days later I was back in Lawrence for New Year's Eve. We had been drinking, like most college students, and some of us were sitting around talking. Out of nowhere, my guy friend, one I use to have a huge crush on, says this: "Chelsea, you use to be so skinny and cute in high school. What happened?"

Oh, I don't know. I decided to not be cute or skinny any more. I changed my life goal into resembling Ursula from Little Mermaid. I mean, she had curves and in her song, she tells me that those curves are how us ladies get them fellas.

Here's the thing guys (if any guys read this), there are a limited amount of ways to comment on a woman's weight and there are even more limited amounts of appropriate times to comment on a woman's weight.

Top time not to comment....when you are about to get some. Not only does this ruin your chances, but I can promise you the lady in question will not forget and will probably not engage in such behavior with you again.

But also....it is just plain ass rude. That is the equivalent of me saying, "Oh, is your dick getting smaller?" Would you like that? No. Why? Because you are sensitive about your size and it such situations....you are even more sensitive. Same here, bucko.

I am comfortable with my luscious body. You would think that these experiences would have shattered me and that I would never again undress in front of a man. But....mama's got needs.

Seriously though. I just think these guys were not thinking correctly. Even if they did mean it....that is their deal. If they want a supermodel with non-existent boobs and the ability to count her ribs, good for them.

I am not the girl, and I am fine with that. :)