My Inner Fatty

On Saturday night, in a packed bar on the Isle of Wight, I met a really cute guy. I got knocked against him and as I apologized, I noted that it hadn't been that unpleasant an experience and if someone had knocked me against his (rather muscular) chest again, I really wouldn't have minded. I had had a couple of drinks and noted only through my wine-induced haze that he had a really nice smile and sexy little wrinkles round his eyes. He took my number and we exchanged some rather flirtatious text banter the next day.

Back on the mainland, I made friends with him on Facebook and was shocked to see that this man is a bona fide hottie with a body to die for. And a beautiful blonde (ex?) girlfriend. Instantly, I began to feel totally insecure.

Now, I know that I'm by no stretch of the imagination fat. I always say this to my friends and they always look at me blankly. By saying this, I'm not asking for them to validate me and reassure me that I'm thin. I know very well that a size 8-10 is not heifer territory and that really, I should be spending my time thinking about something else more valuable, for example the melting of the polar ice caps or Third World debt. But seeing that guy's pictures on Facebook with his buffed near perfect body threw me into a blind panic and made me think immediately “Well, if he ever wants to meet up, I'll have to go on a diet for the week before....”

Not that he will ever want to see me again. Because, you see, looks wise, he's way out of my league.

Last year, in the wake of my divorce, I met a guy at Salsa who I'll just call JM. He, I thought, was drop dead gorgeous. Every time before I went to see him in London, I would run into town after school to buy a new outfit, even though I had plenty of perfectly nice clothes to wear. I always worried constantly about what he would think about my body and that as a salsa DJ who hung around with loads of beautiful South American dancers, he would consider me fat. It drove my sister (who was living with me at the time) so mad that eventually she banned me from talking about him and anything connected with my appearance. I think “Shut the f*** up Siani or I'm going to give you a good slap,” was exactly what she said. My sister never has been one to mince her words....

It really wasn't vanity though, it was insecurity. Having just split up with my ex husband who had attacked me so absolutely and left me feeling like the worst person in the world, I was unable to believe that anyone would ever actually fancy me again. I thought I would get over it. But meeting the Hot Islander has made me realise that it's never going to go away. Whatever I do, there will always be an inner fatty waiting to break free, complete with all their insecurities.

I'm not unusual though. Most women I know have the same issues. Most women I know think that their stomach is too big, arms too flabby, boobs too saggy, thighs too fat, legs not long enough. My friends and I regularly have conversations where we almost competitively list our worst features They usually go something like this “Look at my bingo wings, I mean look at them,” “Well at least you haven't got thunder thighs like me.. etc.”

“Well, my legs may be thin but I've still got a huge moustache....blah blah blah.”

I have, I like to think, an exceptionally good looking group of friends. In fact, every one of my friends, I would say, is beautiful. All my friends have attributes that I love, and yet none of them are wholly happy with themselves or how they look. In fact, the only person who is happy with her appearance is my sister who lives in Africa. There, larger women are celebrated and therefore, she feels no pressure to look a certain way. I haven't seen her for a while, but in all her pictures on Facebook she looks radiantly happy. In all my pictures on Facebook, I look vaguely uncomfortable and strained as I try to pull in stomach and put my tongue in the roof of my mouth (apparently it makes one's cheekbones stand out). Unfortunately, for some reason, it makes me look like I'm trying to swallow a golf ball. I do try not to smile in pictures because smiling, I believe, gives me chipmunk cheeks and horse teeth. Like Victoria Beckham being hounded by the paparazzi, I am mortally afraid of looking happy lest I look fat.

Anyway, back to JM from salsa. Eventually, I realised that he just wasn't a very nice person. And at that moment, he stopped being so good looking and became, in my eyes, really ugly. It took about two seconds for me to realise that he wasn't hot at all, he just had a pretty face and that was about it. It was almost as if his mask fell away and, like in a science fiction film, his features became twisted and distorted. I knew, from then on that I would never fancy him again because he had shown me his true self, and this true self was self-absorbed, empty and lacking in any kind of empathy.

I wonder if it's the same for guys then. Would the Islander fancy me more if he got to know me and my winning personality a bit better? Does a great sense of humour cancel out a moustache, flabby thighs and the beginnings of a double chin? Hmm....

I'm not going to end this post with a feminist type sentence that implores all women to love themselves for who they are, thunder thighs and all. Instead, maybe we should all try to get a little bit of perspective. We should make the most of what we have and enhance our best features. Brains and beauty is a great package. Having a pretty face isn't the be all and end all, but it helps. Add a great sense of humour and a working knowledge of current affairs, and you're onto a winner.

The Player

Recently, at work, a certain name has cropped up in every conversation that my friend J and I have. It's strange because I seem to have suddenly become very aware of the man in question. He hovers at the edge of my vision as I cross the car park. He gives me a wink as we wait for the photocopier and calls me 'Sians'. Whenever he smiles at me, I feel myself blushing like a love-struck teenager

He is our resident player, bad boy, lothario, whatever you want to call him.

You know what he's like. That's because every workplace has one, not just mine. The man with whom every woman wants to spend one fabulous night. Even the woman who maintains he's 'so obvious'. Especially that woman. If the player made a move on her, I bet her knees would buckle just the same as everyone else's.

The man in question at my workplace has got really nice calves (hang on, I only know that because he wears shorts to work, he's a PE teacher!) and blue eyes. In fact, he's actually a bit plastic looking and facially, I don't find him at all attractive. But it's the way that he's so easily familiar, and whenever he sends me an email at work, he puts a little kiss at the end. Hmmm....

I had some pretty heavy flirtation with him a few weeks ago. It was at a friend's birthday dinner and in the bar afterwards, he put his arm around me. I can't quite remember what he was whispering in my ear but I'm pretty sure that it was something fairly complimentary. I'm sure that if I had really tried, something would have happened between us. But that's the thing with a guy like that. You would always have to be doing all the trying while he flirted with girls left right and centre. Would it really be worth it?

I don't want to be like all the simpering 40 something ladies in the staff room at school trying to bat their eye lashes at him over their coffee at break time. Also the fact that Hot FB Guy is in the same department as him makes me very wary. At the end of my friend's aforementioned birthday dinner, when it got to the moment that he was looking for a taxi and pretty much everyone else had gone home, I kissed him on the cheek and walked cheerily away, desperately trying to pretend that the prospect of going home to a cup of camomile tea and a Philippa Gregory was what I'd been waiting for all night. I think I did a pretty good job that evening of pretending I wasn't bothered. I'm pretty sure I didn't spill my wine down myself or start dribbling or anything like that. I'm sure he didn't know that getting a hug off him made me wildly excited. Well, it was the most action I've had in a while.....

The player, I've just realised, has one quality that other men do not. He knows how to make women feel special, attractive, like they're the only person in the world. This week, I had to share a teaching room with the same guy and, by the end of the lesson, even though I was also trying to teach my class, he had confided in me about someone else at work who had been sending him flirty emails. He even showed me, patting the adjacent seat, signalling me to sit down next to him. Weird behaviour considering I haven't spoken to him properly for over three weeks. If anyone else did it I'd run a mile. But he made me feel like his best friend, asking my advice, and then enquiring as to what I was doing for half term, fixing his blue eyes on me as if a visit to the Isle of Wight with three girlfriends was the most fascinating thing he had ever heard.

I must admit, I enjoyed it. Just like I'd enjoyed flirting with him at my friend's birthday. But then I came to my senses and thought. 'Siani what are you doing? He behaves like this with everyone, not just you. Stop it.' I moved away and pretended to be doing something very important, turning away from him. Unfortunately, I wasn't concentrating and tripped over a chair. I then had to do a wild grab-in-the-air type movement to right myself. When I looked up, he was looking me up and down with a little smirk on his face, almost as if he was imagining me with no clothes on. Or maybe he was just thinking what an clumsy idiot I was.

I am determined that he will not break through my protective shell. I fully know he's bad news and I really do need to stay away from him. My friend C did actually go out with him briefly a couple of years ago and he was awful to her. She's still totally screwed up about him, even though she says she's now 'Fine!' about the situation. J also fancies him, even though she maintains that she knows exactly what he's like. When he comes near her, she does this funny hair flick thing and her laugh goes really high pitched. I hope mine doesn't do that. To be honest though, tripping over furniture is probably more of a give-away.

In fact, I am stubbornly determined that I will be the one woman at work who will not swoon over him. Who will smile politely at him, but outwardly act like he's nothing special. Hey, if we all did this to every good looking player we know, they would be totally confused. Personally, I think we should ignore them all, or better still, flirt with them one day and ignore them the next. Instead of smiling foolishly at them and hanging on every word they say.

But hang on, let's be realistic here....

Would he get it?If we had the chance and I knew no one would ever find out?

Probably. Oh well, I'm only human after all. I just need to make sure he never finds out that I secretly fancy him.