You honestly think that torture a’la gym and disgusting diet are ploys to catch a man? Given that you don’t really know me, I forgive you for assuming that without a significant other, I’m a miserable half-human-being, but you deserve a sharp smack for assuming that among the things I’d do to obtain a male of the species, losing weight is one of them.
Truth is, I have no issues with someone wanting me because they think I'm attractive. In its own way, it’s flattering (and as we all know I’m very prone to flattery). But the body is a transient thing. Today it’s skinnier, tomorrow it’ll become fat again. Today its young, tomorrow it’ll be wrinkled. Today I have a pretty face, tomorrow I may be victim to something that changes the way I look entirely. And when (if) any of these things happen Mr-Man-who-wants-me-for-the-way-I-look will naturally walk off in search of more attractive pastures.
I’m admittedly shallow, and I’ve rejected more than one person in the past because I didn’t like the way they looked. That said, I’ve rejected more because their personality – and mine – would have been disastrous together. At the end of the day I expect whoever chooses me to choose me for what he cannot see: the person inside. Because this I can promise you: looks may come, and looks may go, but ‘I’ go on forever.
So, to answer your incredibly stupid question: Not too long ago I was a very awkward, unattractive teenager and the people who loved me then are infinitely more precious to me than those who love me when (by virtue of hard work and excellent cosmetics) I’m prettier. But I work on my body nevertheless, because it feels good to look good. All the hard work seems like it’s worth it when the clothes fit better and the compliments come in. But whatever I do, I do only for me.
Which, my love, is exactly as it should be.