Some men still don’t read.

Not long ago, I added a not-so-subtle hint to my profile that any man who’s actually interested in me should write, not wink. I still got winks. Several.

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Funny how that works.

Last night, I had a spur-of-the-moment meetup with someone from match who’s just moved here, and is primarily seeking new friends (with a relationship in the long run being an obvious benefit). I like him, and whether chemistry develops or not (frankly, I didn’t look for it, but I definitely was attracted to him), he’ll become a friend. As a bonus, Maya fell in love with this man instantly — he tagged along to our “normal” Friday girls’ night out, and she was flirting shamelessly. Kids can just tell if people are good folks.

Today, I have a lunch date. I know…busy, busy girl.

I just got off the phone with Mr. Lunch, and I can already tell that this will be a one-off. Ah, well…at least I planned it so that we’ll be right near the outlet stores. Maya needs shoes, so it won’t be a wasted trip. Besides, I have to eat sometime, right?

Updated below.

Ha…I found this in my “who’s viewed me recently” list:

Sure you can find all kinds of guys on match, so below are some of the types of guys who you will probably find on here… (Okay, I am a smarta$$… but it’s fun…)

1. Mr. Pretty Boy: — Hey, he looks good on your arm, but you certainly can’t have a conversation with him about real things… He is usually the rebound guy, or the guy you needed for a fun night out on the town after about 8 months of not getting any…

Make assumptions about my sexual behavior much? Yeeesh. Truth is, I *have* met “pretty” boys before who actually had brains. The two are not mutually exclusive.

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Hee, hee. After writing this post, I checked my email, and tomorrow’s word of the day had arrived: exiguous (ig-ZIG-yoo-uhs) adjective — Scanty; small; slender.

Amanda posted about an article in Details magazine — an article in which (according to Amanda) some curvier actresses both past and present were called “fat.” I read Amanda’s post earlier and found myself (without having even clicked through to the details article) just certain that I’d find the article an atrocity.

Not so, not so.

After reading the article, (really, go read it) I see it a different way. When saying “fat is back,” the folks at details aren’t calling the women fat, but rather saying that they have fat on their bodies, a normal, healthy thing for all women. Frankly, I love seeing the return of curves, but I’m biased in that direction. Even when I’m a size four, I have very curvy hips. Since having a baby, I might even have boobs at a size four, too — but I don’t expect to ever learn whether that’s true or not.

It took me years to get here, but I realize now that in MY body, I simply don’t look good at any size lower than a six. Even a six is pushing it a bit. Comparing myself to someone with a stick-straight figure and naturally narrow hipbones is insane. Of *course* that person will wear a zero or two! That’s what their bone structure demands! A size zero on me would look positively anorexic — a strong-boned skeleton in motion. Ick.

True story — the other night, my father commented that I looked great, and asked if I’d lost some weight. After I gave him grief about his phrasing (What? I looked awful before? Perhaps you might say instead, ‘you look thinner; have you lost weight?’), I mentioned that yes, I’d dropped perhaps eight pounds over the past few weeks, and told him what my weight had been at the endocrinologist’s appointment on August 2. His jaw dropped, as did my (bird-boned, narrow-shouldered, no-hips) grandmother’s. You couldn’t *possibly* have weighed that! Where did you put it? And you weight what now? Anatomy lesson time, folks… I carefully explained to both of them that I am naturally quite muscular and strong. I would wear a smaller size now at 130 (not my actual weight…yet) than I did in high school at 110-115 — and look better, too.

Back to my initial point — I now find myself vaguely irritated at Amanda’s initial post. It, in my opinion (YMMV, as always) was misleading as to the nature of the actual article, which expressed hope that a trend toward more healthy, round female bodies will continue.

I’ll drink to that.

I will say this, though — the pig/sparkly shoes photo? Tacky and in bad taste.

Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. I don’t mean *that* kind of body shots. (The very thought of tequila is oddly appealing and retch-inspiring simultaneously.) I’m talking about photos. Not even nekkie ones, just ones that show my entire (clothed) body all at once.

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First, disclaimer: yes, I sometimes eat this kind of crap. Deal with it. *** Why, oh why did Swansons have to do this? They replaced the low/no-fat cranberry dessert with a butter-laden brownie, which requires more maintenance while I cook my lunch-in-a-box. Grrrrrrr. It used to mean throwing the brownie out. Now, I save it for the kidlet, who *needs* the extra fat.

Oh, the things you find by reading science blogs. God, I love sci/medblogs.

From Amy in the comments at Orac’s place:

I think, to be successful in Internet dating, you need to use a site like Matchmaker.com, where there’s a good filtering engine, and also put stuff in your profile that filters out, in this girl’s case, anybody rational. In my case, when I was on the market, I advertised for my “mate minimums”: Tall, rational, evolved, man of character who thinks for a living and cares about making a difference in the world. I also explained who should not apply: god believers, Hollywood lawyers (although I would date civil rights lawyers and constitutional scholars).

Before I met my boyfriend, I was a dating snob, and not in the usual way, and I think it’s important to be snotty enough in your descriptor of who you don’t want that you chase many or most of the unacceptable away. The language that chases them away will also serve as an attractor to those you want; ie, “I don’t have an astrological sign. If pressed, I’ll admit to my sign being ‘no parking, street cleaning Wednesdays, 11-noon.’

Her response to inquiries about her sign is brilliant. And, she’s absolutely correct that the best way to find the right type is to be pretty snotty about your description of whom you’re seeking.

God
Please watch over the patients in the hospital
and let them
live
another day,

even if they hoped that they would never awake from

Maria shares a prayer, and reminds me yet again why I can imagine becoming a psychologist, but not a psychiatrist.

Without even trying, she also expresses how I often feel about God: questioning, angry, but still looking and hopeful that he/she/it is out there.