Screaming in the Dark

(Image from Eros: The Garden of Love Tarot)

I was home alone the other day because my husband was out on a bike ride. I was lounging in bed naked except for my bathrobe which was falling open a little because of me moving around. I just felt really really sexy in that moment. Then I looked down and realized that my stomach was exposed and I no longer felt sexy and I felt the need to close my robe so my stomach didn’t show. I was alone, except for our cat, and I’m pretty sure she could care less. (I haven’t asked her but I think she’s okay with my body.)

I was instantly reminded of an amazing poem by Rachel Wiley called Belly Kisses. Please do yourself a favor and check out the entire poem. But this is the part that jumped into my head.

My first instinct any time my dress is pulled over my head

is to wrap my arms across my belly less in shame

and more to shield from the disgust the world

constantly promises for it

…

Every time I’ve let someone fuck me with my dress still on

I laid in bed afterwards

and vowed that I would not let another person inside me

that hasn’t seen me fully – not just seen but marveled at

and pressed their lips to the parts deemed unworthy

a promise I break every time the need to be touched

outweighs the need for dignity.

Belly Kissed from Nothing is Okay by Rachel Wiley

The truth about my body issues is that at their core they have nothing to do with my weight or what I look like. I’m about six feet tall and the thinnest I’ve been in my adult life is 145 pounds. When I was 145 pounds I though my thighs were still too big (I was wearing a size 4 jean), my stomach wasn’t flat enough, and my breasts were too small. I did not see myself as sexy or desirable. I’m quite a bit more that 145 these days, though not the heaviest I’ve ever been in my life. Even after five years together and him showing me that he loves me and he’s attracted to me I still struggle to believe that my husband wants me. (Please forgive me if this is too graphic for you, I’m going to talk about sex for maybe two sentences very directly with no euphemisms. Feel free to fast-forward.) At one point I have a depressing epiphany where I realized that I didn’t think that my husband got an erection because I turned him on, I believed that he got turned on for some other reason or was just horny and that I was the one who was there in bed with him. I’ve mostly gotten over that belief (thank you therapy) but it was pretty depressing when I realized I held that belief.

I think that I am this way because of a delightful mix of media and shitty partners. I remember being quite young by myself in the bathroom stuffing washcloths or hand towels into my training bra wanting big breasts. I remember one time with an early boyfriend wanting to be sexy, I was wearing a button down shirt and I walked into the living room and started unbuttoning my shirt while looking him in the eyes. He laughed so hard he could barely breath. I remember a different ex, when I complained that our sex life was too infrequent, telling me that he would want to have sex with me more if I were skinnier (this was when I was 145) and if I got a bikini wax. I remember yet another partner, I walked into the living room naked to surprise him and all he said was “what are you doing?? The curtains are open, someone could see you.” I want what most people want, someone to marvel at me and find me desirable.

The media piece is more insidious than the past partners simply because it’s everywhere is so many ways. It has gotten better some but when I was growing up, you only saw one type of woman as the romantic lead. Or as desirable and sexy in beer commercials. No one in my life directly told me that I needed to look a certain way when I was a child but it was all around me all the time. I also heard my mom regularly talk badly about her own body. She never said negative things to me but I heard and later repeated the things she would say about herself.

While I am currently bigger than I would like (and finally getting to a point from a health standpoint where I can start trying to do something about that) there are some things that are just the reality of being human and having a body. For example, having a belly. That “stubborn belly fat” that so many women try to get rid of, yeah, that’s actually there to protect your uterus. If you have a uterus you’re supposed to have a pooch. Mind. Blown. Years ago I saw The Mummy from 1932. There’s a scene where the female lead played by Zita Johann goes to a party in this stunning, draped, bias cut dress. And she has a belly! It made me so happy and she was considered beautiful and sexy at the time.

My body doesn’t feel like a safe place. I’m not asking everyone on the planet to find me attractive. I just want things about my body that are normal and healthy to not be judged. The truth is, these days, I’m the one who is judging and putting my body down. The call is coming from inside the house. I know from experience that losing weight will not change or fix the struggles that are going on inside my own head. The only piece of good news about that is that my mindset issues should be something I can fix. I’m just trying to figure out how.