When a woman celebrates her 30th birthday with a bikini shoot supporting Every Body is Beach Ready then you know she’s kind of a bad ass.
Michelle Thomas details in her blog a date that went well enough, just another nice night out but nothing special with someone she had met on Tinder. However on the next night, as she was out again with someone else, she recieved an email from the guy, who went into unneeded detail into why it would never work out between them.
“Thanks for a wonderful evening last night. I really enjoyed your company and actually adore you. You’re cheeky and funny and just the sort of girl I would love to go out with if only my body and mind would let me. But I fear it won’t.
I’m not going to bull***t you… I f***ing adore you Michelle and I think you’re the prettiest looking girl I’ve ever met. But my mind gets turned on my someone slimmer.” (Emphasis hers.)
So whilst I am hugely turned on by your mind, your face, your personality (and God…I really, really am), I can’t say the same about your figure. So I can sit there and flirt and have the most incredibly fun evening, but I have this awful feeling that when we got undressed my body would let me down. I don’t want that to happen baby. I don’t want to be lying there next to you, and you asking me why I’m not hard.
We could be amazing friends, we could flirt and joke and adore each other and…. f*** me… I would marry you like a shot if you were a slip of a girl because what you have in that mind of yours is utterly unique, and I really really love it.”
The message obviously upset her so much, that when her date came back from the bathroom he was surprised to find her a mess. “He was lovely, but baffled, and hasn’t been in touch since, funnily enough.” Michelle admits.
What she launches into is a brilliant dismantling of his letter, and the thought process that must have taken place for it to occure.
We aren’t going to share her entire story here, but here are a few excerpts.
“You don’t have to fancy me. We all have a good friend who we look at ruefully and think “you’re lovely, but you just don’t tickle my pickle”. We wish we were attracted to them, but our bodies and our brains don’t work like that. And that’s fine.”
“What isn’t fine is the fact that, after a few hours in my company, you took the time to write this utterly uncalled-for message. It’s nothing short of sadistic. Your tone is saccharine and condescending, but the forensic detail in which you express your disgust at my body is truly grotesque. The only possible objective for writing it is to wound me.”
“And I’m ashamed to say, for a few moments, it worked. You stirred a dormant fear that every woman who was ever a teenage girl has – that it doesn’t matter how funny you are, how clever, how kind, how passionate, how loyal, how determined or adventurous or vibrant – if you’re a stone overweight, no one will ever find you desirable.”
“What truly concerns me, the real reason I’m responding so publicly, is the fact that you have a 13 year old daughter. A talented illustrator, who collects Manga comics and wants to visit Japan as soon as possible.”
“I want you to encourage your daughter to love, enjoy, and care for her body. It belongs to her and only her. Praise her intellect, and her creativity. Push her to push herself and to be fearless. Give her the tools to develop a bomb-proof sense of self-esteem so that if (I’ll be kind. I’ll say “if”.) the time comes that a small, unhappy man attempts to corrode it, she can respond as I do now.”
“P.S. “Slip of a girl”? CHRIST ALIVE, that’s creepy.”
“P.P.S. You’re not 5’11”