The Lesson

I have another date in the works and according to the person who fixed me up, he's smart, funny, and couldn't be nicer.

So what's the catch? Me.

I googled his image and unless it's out-of-date, he appears to be, how should I say it, a tad heavy-set.

I know. How limited and shallow can you be?

In my case, I guess a lot. And I know why. My mother was, to put it mildly, a big woman. Perhaps if we'd had a healthy, loving, mother-daughter relationship, I'd view overweight people differently. But we didn't. And consequently, here I am, long after she's passed, still, to my regret, judging people by their poundage.

Last week, I was having a heart-to-heart with a girlfriend and asked if she minded that her hubby leaned towards the chunky.

She looked at me like I was crazy. "Of course I want him to be healthy, but I love his body. Every single inch of it."

Another friend's husband is an enormously talented guy, who is also physically enormous. Think Peter Ustinov, Pavarotti, or hello, one of the most charismatic people you know.

So what am I waiting for? I can stand here on the sidelines, weighing peoples' worth forever, or say to heck with that, toss neuroses to the wind, and finally, at long last, have a little... no, a lot more fun.