There are worse things I could do

Once upon a time, I was blessed enough to study abroad in Rome.

As cliched as it sounds, those nine months were a life changing experience, in many ways.

And as superficial as it makes me feel now to even write it out, one of the most eye-opening lessons I had while living in Rome was the fact that men found me attractive.

Until I went to Rome, I did not believe that any man would find me attractive.

I did not date at all in high school. I didn't even get asked to the prom. In fact, I think I was the first failure that Mr. Huff, the teacher who ran a matchmaking service for the prom, ever had in his years of setting up dates for students.

I made it through my first year of college dateless as well.

The summer after my freshman year of college is when I first went to Rome.

Being told I had a beautiful body by Italian men was shocking to me. You see, I was fat. I had curves that American men did not find attractive. Yet, overseas, I was a hot commodity.

When I went back to Rome, for longer, I was still fat.

Yet again, the Italian men told me I was beautiful.

To this day, only one man in America that I am not related to has told me that I am beautiful. And has loved me in a variety of shapes.

The juxtaposition between Italian and American culture,m what was found to be beautiful, shocked me, as I thought that fat was unappealing world wide. Yet, I learned with my time in Rome and traveling through other European countries that Americans were an anomaly, as in other cultures and countries, fat was not unappealing. Fat was womanly. Fat was sexy. Fat was desired.

So, this theory of mine was reinforced by my trials and tribulations in the dating world. I got lucky when I got thin. I had no luck when I got fat. Apparently, my personality and facial features were not enough to override the excess flesh I bore.

And the few men I did date, well, I was told that they had settled for me. Except for the one who found me beautiful.

Since my experience with beauty in America has been less than kind, my mind started reeling when I saw the latest cover of Time magazine today.

Barbie, the iconic doll, can now be bought with curves.

This says nothing to me about American beauty. The fact that this change to Barbie is considered newsworthy enough to make the cover of Time magazine only shows me that American beauty standards have not changed. It should not be such shocking new that a plastic doll now has realistic curves, but let's be real: chubby/curvy Barbie is not that bootylicious. I'd wager she wears a size 8/10. That means she is still smaller than the average American woman.

The fact that plus size models breaking industry standards makes headlines.

The fact that any woman of size who becomes famous makes headlines when she loses weight.

The fact the plus size clothing is hidden at most department stores.

The fact that you can't buy plus size clothing from most retailers unless it is on their website.

The fact that it took over 50 years for Barbie to gain some freaking weight.

You know, I keep hearing things about the fat acceptance movement and seeing news coverage about plus sized models.

If American beauty standards have really changed, it would not be so shocking that a plus size model makes the SI Swimsuit issue.

If the American standard of beauty has grown to accept the voluptuous, more women who look like me would be modelling.

The diet industry might not generate over millions of dollars annually.

It disgusts me that American society can't wrap their heads around the fact that women of all shapes and sizes are beautiful. In Morocco, men would offer my parents a dozen camels for my hand. In the states, I can't even get a man to return my winks on Match.com.

Anywhere but in my home country, I am desirable.

And that's just bullshit.

And breaking the mold by changing up Barbie's figure doesn't change that. It doesn't mean that the American standard of beauty has grown to include a variety of shapes and sizes, unless you're looking at the small end of the spectrum.

It angers me that I could stand side by side with a woman who has a horrific personality, no intelligence, no charisma, etc, but she is thin and get overlooked just because I look like I've enjoyed a sandwich or two or three in my lifetime.

It ain't right.

And I don't see it changing anytime soon.

I hope and pray that by the time my niece hits puberty, plus size models aren't making headlines. That it is not newsworthy for a woman to be considered overweight and beautiful.

I'd rather it be that the American standard of beauty is that the size of a woman is not considered newsworthy at all, whether she is made of flesh or plastic.