Sent a text to Tom in messenger: “I got really horny while looking at you. What do you think about it?”
Reply: “What can I think about it. I was expecting something more...meaningful from you. But a good start. Direct, honest and that is good.”
Reply: “Yeah, thought that getting turned on by a photo was a male privilege.”
Later we talked about how I managed to overcome my fear of heights and breaking glass by tearing down an entire greenhouse all by myself. Mentioned how I broke the glass and threw the shards in the recycling containers. We also talked about how women think their bodies are not an instrument to change the world. It’s something that is meant to be improved and made better.
I realized that Tom really did not get anything about the female self-objectification syndrome when he asked me the following question: “Didn’t you have anyone to help you?”
I didn’t reply. And what could I possibly say to guy who thinks a woman is a person in need for help and assistance. A person who cannot be tough or brave, with her own freedom and possibilities.
This question was violent. To me. To Ingrīda. I know that maybe my reaction wasn’t adequate. Would you and if yes, how would you react and reply?
Following days after the failed “friendship”, I saw interviews with Tom in various media channels. The new champion is trying to inspire others. He’s hoping his victory will motivate people to start exercising and think healthy. He’s trying to tell people that dreams come true if a person is willing to go the extra mile, even if it means doing something you don’t want to do.
I felt deep sadness about all the fakeness, misguidance and the blooming culture of make-believe our society has created.
Wasn’t the demolition of the greenhouse, to make room for something new, a healthy and intellectually stimulating exercise? I’ve done so many things, but usually the questions I get are all the same: “Didn’t you have someone to help you?”, “Why don’t you try to get fitter?” And every time I reply with “What for?”
It’s just so exciting and interesting to learn how to set up electrical appliances or learning how to say “No, thanks” to the diet, carb and sugar junkie culture. I’ll eat two times a day and I will eat protein, forest meat, and farm food, even if not everyone gets their share. I’ll get mine. I don’t owe anything to anyone and I have no obligations towards society to look or behave like a woman “should”. I like the way I look, the things I can do and the way I think. When I go to Maksim to get a massage, I don’t think about the results. “Now, I will get this, maybe I’ll get thinner, maybe cellulite will disappear, maybe thanks to all this, I will be able to lead a better and happier life when I’ll find Him.” And I will be valuable enough for him, to need me without cellulite, excess weight and unpleasant wrinkles in the face, knees and elbows. We’ve laughed about the fact that people with excess weight live a happy, long-lasting life, while those who try to artificially maintain fitness, struggle. I wonder how intelligent human beings can’t bring themselves to understand that you can’t measure or judge a person by their weight. You have to be aware of the physiological parameters everyone shares - sugar level, good/bad cholesterol, heart rate, can the person walk fifteen kilometers without kicking the bucket… if everything is good, every level - satisfactory and normal - a human being is healthy! I feel great, I have no exhaustion in my muscles, my face looks harmonized and I could demolish my neighbour’s greenhouse, if he’d ask for my help and advice. For dinner, I would ask for protein.
What is a real man?
A man who drives a truck, pours out a load of potatoes and puts them in the basement.
He looks after his family.
What is a real woman?
A woman who doesn’t eat meat and sugar.
She eats men. But she doesn’t look like a person who would do that. She’s feminine, with the oh so desirable hourglass figure. Graceful, elegant, poised. Unlike a normal woman, she doesn’t kill the manliness in men, because she embodies the fantasy of a certain love. A love that a successful and a rich man could have. An exotic love.That’s why she wants to match the visual preference of her potential next man, so that he wouldn’t look at others. She doesn’t want her man to mention her character or intelligence as reasons why he has chosen her. If he would, he’d look at other women.
She doesn’t want to be equal, she wants to be better. And the best has to be the most privileged.
That’s how Christine is. She sent me a letter via social network saying “You, stupid bitch, I will fuck up your face! Why the fuck are you throwing yourself on my hubby Armands? Whore, prostitute can’t find your own man. Buy a gigolo.”
At that time I was dating a man, who introduced himself as Armands. Tried to get out of the situation as elegantly as I could - informed her that Armands had given me a coat. Attached a picture with me wearing the “gifted” coat. Nothing. Total silence. But with Armands I had a pretty interesting conversation: “Ingrīda, why did you tell Christine that I had given you a coat, even though I can’t afford one. You can’t imagine the scandals in my household.”
Hello?! Maybe you should’ve warned me about the multiple-women strategy?
Armands was put in the past immediately.
The most important person in my relationships is me, not the man I’ve chosen. If I make mistakes, I can try to correct them. I will never understand how some women manage to enslave themselves and quite naturally - end up totally miserable.
I’m a thirty eight year old woman and I don’t want to be twenty or perfect. Woman’s age doesn’t diminish her value in relationships. Relationships are not about expectations, about premature corpulence or the place in the hierarchy of globalization. They’re not about guessing will I ever find a long-term partner.
If a woman can take care of herself, she knows her worth and the way her personality is headed to; the only rational reason to yearn for slimness and looking younger is if a woman is working in the modeling industry.
But otherwise - without stress. Today I go running, swimming, pull out the old oil grass mower. Open up the oil compartment with pliers wrench. Yeah, no oil. Go to the household goods store and buy it. Pour out the old oil and fill in the new. The engine starts to roar and I mow the lakeside. Later, I call Him. He needs to mow his lawn as well, but he doesn’t have a mower. We make a deal that next time I visit, I’ll bring mine. He will help me trim the hedge.
Her: Ingrīda, this gorgeous man was sitting in the train right next to me and… you know I’ve never said anything like that about a man in my life... But he was dressed so shitty and lame that I realized there’s no point to even start a conversation.
Me: Maybe he was so busy with some business idea, that it didn’t even occur to him to dress better… Just like me. But, do tell what is a gorgeous man.
Her: It was his head: without a trace of alcohol and cigarettes, pretty nose - one that’s not too wide and not too snub, nice lips and fantastic eyes - clear and bright. He had a bit of gray in his short-trimmed hair. By the look of his face - a perfectly preserved thirty year old, but the hair gave a ten years extra.
Me: Yeah, I’d like a man like that too and if he would’ve trained up his blade and sirloin… (laugh)
Me: Well, there are several explanations - he lives in Zolitūde, he works in Zolitūde or maybe he was just visiting someone there? Maybe he was taking the train because his car broke down and he was getting off there to get it? By the way, recently I took a train to Saulkrasti because I don’t have a car and I couldn’t borrow one from my mom or brother.
Me: We would have to ask him all of these questions personally then. We can’t just blindly assume things about him. I would just like to fall in love and not care about all of that.
As long as I can remember myself, the value of a woman in a man’s eyes have started a protest in me. Men have always told me “You are fat!” They’ve tried to persuade me to think that if I didn’t lose weight, then I lacked the most important thing that a woman could have - that erotic pull for men to gravitate towards her, the ability to be wanted and desired, being attractive… Like I need to follow their commands and become this Hollywood actress-like figure whose main assets are a pretty face that balances on a thin neck, waspy waist, huge boobs and long legs. I’ve never had even supporting actress characteristics, like being silent and supportive. And when I objected, I did it using my own logic. For example, while I tried to get thin, you had to become a millionaire and spend 10 grand on me a day.
Yeah, I know it’s childish and strange, but who is a hundred percent grown-up?! With men.. It all went to shit - they didn’t become millionaires and the thought of accepting me the way I was, was a totally unacceptable concept. But I learned to understand that if a person of the opposite sex is making you weight-watch the shit out of you and make it your responsibility just in order to make you fit their imaginary dream girl type, then run away as fast as you can. God, take a car if it gets you further away from that person. And never see him again. That’s not a loving person let alone a person worthy of you. This person is worthless or a neurotic or both. I don’t need that.
Yeah, it narrows down a half of the potential grooms, but being with the wrong person and being unhappy is purposeful and right? I’m voting for a life that you don’t have to suffer through.
No woman should be as thin as someone else. Being fat or skinny shouldn’t be a core value in a person, just like a man’s worth shouldn’t be measured in money. A man and money are synonyms only to women who are incapable of doing anything themselves. And from my experience, unfortunately, Latvia is not a land of strong women. Maybe soon it will change - what do you think?
While I wait for the answers and discussions, I’ll allow myself to eat pasta with pesto, put on my grass-mowing sneakers, chop some firewood and put on a dress that doesn’t fit me, because during winter I got busy daydreaming and eating candy near the fireplace.
"Hi! Thanks for the meeting! So I was thinking and I realised you are a cool, honest woman. I think you deserve more than I was willing to give. I’m sorry, but I think we should go our separate ways, but I wish you all the best in your endeavours. Sincerely, Kristaps"
I closed the e-mail and thought to myself: what a nice, decent man. Not only yesterday’s conversations in the “Burga” cafe went really well, but as it turns out - this man is capable of thinking one step ahead. Married. Seeking a lover. I would be something emotional, therefore something that would complicate things even more. He didn’t want complications not for me, and not for himself. Very wise and logical. A perfectly-timed refusal. He’s seeking for something, and I’m seeking something too, but something different.
I had posted an online dating ad, saying “Sporty fatso seeking a companion for late night tea cakes”...
If we put all the men in hundred percent, about fifty of the hundred would be into big and bigger women. A statement that I proved to myself with my dating ad. Of course, there were sad moments too - a realization that I have been trying to change myself from Fat Barbie to Skinny Barbie for years. And I had always thought that men would help with that, but when it didn’t happen I became angry. Angry because how could that be? I have a man, but he doesn’t make my fat ass go away?! Thought: nope, this guy is useless, out of my life. He must be defective.
Now I don’t think about it anymore… What’s gone is gone. Now I choose men that like Fat Barbie 120-95-120 not Skinny Barbie 90-60-90. Maybe a bit of reading about the female intrasexual competition theory helped. And of course, the realization that competition amongst women is a crazy thing. All that energy spent, trying to be slim, trying to be better than Eve, the neighbour, being fearful of the fat setting in the waist and constantly being stressed out about finding the right partner and doubts about will I actually find someone?
No, no, I, personally, refuse to stress about what I have to do to make myself more desirable for my next partner. What if I put on false lashes, but he hates them? Anything can happen, so why not this?
From now on, everything will be simple - absence of falsies and abundance of fat will be compensated by my colourful personality and unique traits of character, full stop! Hating yourself is way too expensive. Better - not to hate. And try not to mislead yourself whilst trying to answer questions like “Why is the skinny waist and pretty nose important for you? Is it really for you? I raised my chin very recently. And now, when I look in the mirror to see my own eyes, I understand that yes, I love myself. That’s the feeling that I wish every one of us would experience. Even if you have excess weight and no falsies. All of that can come and go, but the important things stay, the rest is just a fun game.