The Museum of Fat Love | On Exhibit | teapaladin


Jon and I met in high school. We ran in similar circles and shared a number of friends, interests, and classes. We flirted... poorly. "Nerd-flirting." We thought we were being subtle (friends have since assured us that we were adorably obvious in our awkward, infantile mutual bothering. (For example, I'd poke him with a pink highlighter during class. He, being male and thus socialized to cringe away from all things pink, would try to dodge, or steal my highlighter, or poke back. We were young and socially awkward.)

A mutual friend decided to intervene, once it became obvious that neither of us was going to step up and ask the other out. Unbeknownst to me, she harassed Jon into admitting he liked me by poking him in the side and refusing to stop until he gave her an answer. Later, during the build-up to that year's Academic Decathlon competition, all of the female members of the AD team had a girls-only study session (the boys had proven unable to cram together for long hours.) My friend sat beside me, and about halfway through the day she wrote me a note: "Do you want to go to the Spring Fling with Jon?" I turned tomato-red and quickly shoved the note in my backpack, utterly flabbergasted that anyone had been able to pick up on the fact that I liked him. That was, apparently, answer enough. Later that week, when we all together at lunch, our friend informed us that we would be going to the dance together. Meekly, embarrassed, we agreed. We've been together ever since.

That was nine years ago. We're married now, with a dog. Jon finished his B.A. in 06, and has been working in the "real" world ever since. After I got my Master's, I dragged him and the dog out to California with me, where I am working on my Ph.D..

Jon has never judged me for my fat, has never loved me less because I wear plus sizes, and has never made disparaging comments about my size. He's really quite wonderful.

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