Better me than the fat man

This past Saturday night, Mr. Geek and I were celebrating my birthday with many friends at the bar; afterwards we found ourselves the only two of the party heading to a local strip club. This particular club is of the “bikini bar” variety, meaning that while on the stage or on the floor, the ladies show no nudity. (Back where I got my lap dance, however, is another story for another time.)

Near the end of the night, while we were seated with drinks at the main dance area, one of the ladies came over to chat us up. Even though I’d already had two lap dances that night, and was running near the end of my cash, I thought about how much I would be willing to hand over my last $20. Then she said something that completely turned me off:

“I’d rather be on you than on the fat man.”

I was shocked for a moment, and could barely speak. I composed myself and told her I was done with dances for the night, because I wasn’t about to get into a fat/size acceptance argument with a dancer in the strip club.

See, I haven’t mentioned it on the blog before (and honestly, I’ve had so much going on this summer that I’ve barely blogged at all) but I myself am a fat girl. (I call myself fat rather than overweight, because I feel that overweight implies that there is a perfect weight that I should be but I am over it.) Since learning more about size acceptance (which I will cover in another post), I’ve become increasingly aware of the subtle—and not so subtle—fat-shaming behavior of many people.

Did she think she was complementing me, by pointing out that she would rather perform a lap dance for me, because the fat man was so much larger, and, presumably by her tone, more digusting than I?

I’m sure if I’d called out this dancer, she would have been mortified, insisting “Oh, I didn’t mean you!” as her face turned red. She honestly probably didn’t mean me at all, but talking shit on the fat man at the other end of the bar hurts everyone, because it still feeds into the fat-shaming behavior and confirms that stereotype that there are good fat people (myself and Mr. Geek) and bad fat people (the man down the bar).

If I weren’t in a crowded loud environment, I may have said something in response to her comment. But alas, I did not, and all I can do now is post about the incident on my blog in the hopes that someone will read it and possibly change her thoughts and feelings on body image and self-esteem.