[QUOTE=A Monkey With a Gun]
SurrenderDorothy, hang in there. You’ve already realized the first thing to becoming a better person: Your body is not the only thing about you. It does not define you.
[/QUOTE]
Well dayum. I guess we really do agree. The quoted bit is what I’ve been trying to say all along. And thanks for your kind post at the end of page one. 
“you’d look pretty with some meat on you” means nothing to me, but “would you rather be an Ashley Olsen or a Harriet Tubman?” This is something that I’m starting to come back to with the whole self-esteem thing. Let’s see if I can explain it without tasting my own toes yet again:
Be your own hero. Be your own role model. If you admire Harriet Tubman, then be Harriet Tubman and admire yourself. Live in accord with your own ideals and appreciate yourself for it.
Maybe I should give an example.
Two months ago me and my GF broke up. Naturally, I felt pretty bad about it. But the worst feeling was that I need to find another girlfriend or I won’t be happy. I miss the companionship, I miss the sex, but mostly I miss kissing. Almost immediately, I wallpapered the web with personals, and I’ve asked out one very special woman, and she turned me down. The personals have turned up zip. It seems there is no one for poor tdn. Happiness has run out on me.
So what do I do? How do I fix the hopeless? How can I force a woman to like me? The thing is, I can’t. But there is one thing I can do – become more sexy and likeable. I accept my faults for what they are, and change the faults I can. I’m old, bald, and fat. Can’t do much about the old, can’t do much about the bald. But I’m doing something about the fat. I sweat like a politician every night, and I love it. Even if I never get into great shape, I love the process of trying. And I’m developing my hobbies, one of which is art. I may never be the next Picasso, but I’m getting better every day. I love that about myself. I love my entertainments, I love my politics, I love my intellect.
I love my life.
And a few days ago, I realized something: I’m not lonely. I love spending time alone with the one person who has the power to make me happy (or sad) all the time. The one person I’m forced to live with every second of my life. No other person in the world will ever have the capacity to appreciate me more than I can. And I can meet all of my own emotional needs.
I have become my own hero, and my own best friend.
I’m happy.
And now for the punchline: Yesterday, the Very Special woman that rejected me asked me out for a semi-quasi-date-like thing. And that’s great. I like her, but I certainly don’t need her. I can provide my own happiness.
Sorry for the early morning senseless ramble. I’m not quite awake yet.