Now that I am about to actively put myself "back out on the market" dating-wise, I guess it's only natural that I've been thinking more about my appearance. Obviously, since one of the things I blog the most about is my weight, we all know that I'm overweight. . . some would go so far as to say (gasp!) "fat."
In addition to my weight, I now have more than 20 gray hairs; fine lines around my eyes and on my forehead that no longer go away with a good night's rest and proper hydration; my teeth are not as white as they used to be (thanks, Starbucks); and my breasts now require what KC's mother refers to as the "Rawhide" bra (because it "heads 'em up and moves 'em out").
I don't know whether it's good or bad that, in terms of my looks, I don't really have "glory days" to look back on with nostalgia. The fact of the matter is, except for a brief period from age 21 to 22 when I'd actually gotten within 10 lbs of my "ideal weight," there has never been a time when I was a real looker. Hell, even at 22, I had bad hair with big bangs: it *was* the early '90s, after all.
I've been browsing a bit on some online dating sites and have been a little disappointed to see how many men within a few years of my age are restricting their search to only women under 35. Did I pass some magical barrier of which I was blissfully unaware on my last birthday that suddenly rendered me less desirable to men? I suppose we all have to draw a line somewhere, but it is a depressing thought.
When I first thought actively about getting back into the dating game, I mainly thought about the opportunities to meet new men and have some fun. (In addition to taking my less-than-healthy focus off J.) I thought putting myself out there meant "moving on." I still think that this is a step I need to take, but I'm now facing the reality that, by taking active steps to find someone, I'm also opening myself up for rejection and disappointments.
Time to grow that thick skin again. . . .