Tag Archives: too ugly for love

Impatiently Recuperating

So, Phyllis the Hernia is no longer.

Two weeks on, the stitches are healing.

I can see my feet once more. I’m bruised, but happy.

It’s weird though, having this operation is a bit like being diagnosed with MS.

You certainly find out who your friends are.

Not many, but a few of the people I thought would send good wishes, if not come for a visit, haven’t. My other amazing friends, thankfully, have.

I’ve been lucky, I’ve had offers of help, visits, someone to put my bins out on time. Although raddled with Cabin Fever, I’ve had visits every day, bringing me news of the Outside World and a supply of blueberries (my must-have).

Yet being alone for the majority of the time has been interesting. I’ve set up a study schedule. I’ve replied to all my emails. I’ve ordered some covers for my garden furniture. I’ve watched every single episode of ’90 Day Fiance’. If nothing else, I now know how to apply for a visa if an American guy ever took a shining to me.

I’ve tootled around my cottage, counting cobwebs. I’ve snipped dead leaves from plants, sorted through kitchen drawers and, well, been a little bit bored.

I know I need to take it easy, but it’s a bit frustrating.

Perhaps I was a bit hasty in turning down appearing in TLC’s ‘Too Ugly For Love?’

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How Ugly is ‘Too Ugly’?

orangeAs to be expected, I’ve been ruminating/crying about my recent experience of TV-land. (see previous blog post).

The spiel for the dating show applicants is: ‘Do you have a medical condition or physical disability that makes dating a challenge?’

Hmm. I have raised my head long enough from my family-sized tub of Ben & Jerry’s to have a definitive answer to this.


Not under that title anyway – ‘Too Ugly for Love’.

To be fair, yes, as is common with many other 41 year old women, I do pick over my  ‘faults‘; they are as follows:

  • In certain lights, my nose can appear a bit too large for my face – candlelight is good for this reason as I’ve never got round to learning the dark art of ‘contouring’ with 20 different shades of beige make-up.
  • I am fat. No denying it, although I prefer ‘curvy’, ‘Rubenesque’ or simply, ‘womanly’/’feminine’, and with my height, I can carry it off. Honestly.
  • I have a fairly small mouth, but I make up for it by being extremely gobby on any subject.

This probably doesn’t make me ugly, just normal. But chuck a diagnosis of MS into the equation – yes, it makes dating more difficult – but it certainly doesn’t make me ‘Ugly‘.

Ugly is such a cruel word, and definitely not a word I would ever equate with a disability. To this end, I consider myself ‘Beautiful Enough For Love’, my alternative title. A disability makes us:

  • Open to life in a way we never thought possible – life is short and for the taking.
  • We are non-judgemental – we know that every single person has a ‘disability’, whether it’s a personality ‘flaw’, a ‘disability’, a ‘mental health problem’. Labels are pointless and meaningless. We are who we are, warts and all.
  • We have taken up the challenge of a lifelong illness and that makes us brave and wondrous.

All this adds up to why I chose not to take part in this programme. It is demeaning. It is not empowering – merely schadenfreude at its most despicable.

My life is interesting enough, and if the right person comes my way, I will date him without the cameras and exploitation.

And if not, there’s always a Saga holiday. I’m 9 years off qualifying …

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