FOX's More To Love, which premieres tonight, July 28, follows the typical reality TV dating show formula, except with one main difference: there's an added layer of vulnerability to the contestants and—dare-to-say-it—a different shade of neurosis in these bachelorettes, who range in ages from 21 to 37 years and in weight from 180 to 270 pounds.

It's a combination that sits in your stomach in different, sometimes conflicting ways; none more so then when the show bounces back and forth portraying its characters' weight  as something to be celebrated, and at others times, something to be overcome (or worse, gawked at).

For example, the eligible bachelor Luke, 26, is a 330-lb, six-figured real estate developer from Santa Maria, California, that "likes to eat and has always been that way." At 6-feet. 3-inches, he's unapologetic about his size and doesn't believe that "being a heavyset guy" should stand in his way of finding true love. Yes, he deserves love as much as the next guy, but does his self-professed desire for voluptuous women make him an "amazing man,"  and is his decision to go on national TV looking for such a woman a "courageous act"?

It's hard to decide, and your reaction most likely depends upon your ideas about beauty, responsibility, character and confidence, which can and will change from bachelorette to bachelorette. Sex & The Curvy Girl

When being introduced to the buxom beauties, and many truly are beautiful, it's easy to sympathize with their struggles. Take, for example, the gorgeous Arianna, a 37-year-old cabaret dancer from Wichita, Kansas. Standing at 6-feet tall in flats (add two inches with heels and hair) there is no denying her beauty: her 190 pounds rests gracefully on her frame. She doesn't fit the mold of cover girl perfection, but who cares? She's gorgeous. Same for the Israeli beauty Tali, who at 193 lbs exudes a subtle confidence when declaring "Love doesn't have to have a shape or size."

Then there is another subset of women that we are introduced to, whose introductions include both self-affirmations—"I am fun and I am awesome"—and tearful mea culpas about their weight and its relationship to their love life. More than one of these women admit to never having had a date, or ever being in love. And within the brief synopses detailing their struggles to love themselves while looking for a man to love them just the way they are, you feel for these women. You relate to these women. You see yourself in these women. And you fear for these women. Many of them seem so emotionally fragile that you wonder if the invariable rejection from this show will lead to an irreparable break of confidence? Or that perhaps there are better avenues then prime time television for gaining self-acceptance?

But then there is Kristian, a 245-lb. teacher from Wallington, NJ, who believes "guys are afraid to date a bigger girl," and who later proudly slaps her junk-in-the-trunk and declares "I think I'm hot," and you become a little more disillusioned with the show, and perhaps just a bit judgmental.