Nothing Tastes as Good as Skinny Feels…

This is one of the most disgusting phrases I have ever heard.  I once heard a mother say this to her daughter.  I also have friends who have told me their parents told them this.  On the rational side of my mind, I know that some of these parents are trying to protect their children from the cruelties of a fat-shaming society.  I get that.  Other parents are just participating in the fat-shaming model.  I don’t get that.

I was very lucky.  My mother was amazing, something I often forget to tell her, and as such I hope she reads this entry.  She accepted me.  She instilled in me the tools that she felt I would need to make it through life, and then let me figure out how best I could use them.

In my early 20’s I was living in San Diego.  The vibe I got there was that if you were not size 2, blonde, hairless, masculine and tan; then you were not worth shit.  Well, I was a bulky, brunette, hairy, sassy, pale guy.  I allowed the culture to make me feel like I was a beast.  I felt undesirable and unlovable.  More so, I felt like I was unworthy of desire or love.  When someone would flirt with me, I thought it was some sort of cruel joke, and that it would end up as a scene from Carrie, with a bucket of pigs blood dropping from the rafters.  I did the best I could to bury all of those feelings, and hold my head high.

Then I decided to make a change.  I hired a personal trainer 4 days a week (at 50$ a session). I took supplements, vitamins, and meal replacement shakes.  I ate a chicken boob, and a cup of spinach leaves for lunch and dinner.  I went tanning 3 times a week.  I dyed my hair blonde.  I got waxed every 3 weeks on the dot.  I did all of this to feel accepted.  It didn’t work.

Eventually, I let all of that slip away, and just stopped trying to fit in.  I was much happier, but still felt like I was somehow less than human.

I moved to Seattle in September of 2006, and my story takes a little turn here.  The average build in Seattle and the PNW in general is a little heavier than southern California.  People up here have facial hair, and body hair.  There is no sun up here, so most of us are pale.  I remember being at a bar with my dear friend JJ, and some guy walked by me and woofed at me.  I was appalled.  JJ calmed me and explained that it was the way some people appreciate sexiness.  I was confused by these strange new customs.  Moreover I was confused that someone thought I was attractive.

I joined the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence in August of 2008.  I was still ridiculously body conscious and shy.  I would not leave the house without being in an undershirt and an over shirt.  My sponsor sister Isabella Ringing and my big sister Edith Moorecock were instrumental in breaking down my barriers here.  They were both very racy in their dress, which I admire.  They kept telling me to raise my hemline.  My response was that no one wants to see that.  Isabella told me that I have no right to decide what other people want to see.  Brilliant! 

It was still much later at Sister Karma Za Betch’s (may she rest in peace) novice project that I finally broke through my fear of self.  I wore a fishnet shirt, and fishnet pair of square cut underwear with thigh high boots.  I was terrified.  TERRIFIED! 

I hid it well and strode with pride.  I passed this pair of guys who were standing off by a wall.  One of them said ‘Wow, I didn’t need to see that.’  I was mortified, but anger took over.  I turned on my heel, and in Novice Sister regalia addressed him directly.  I said “Well then, maybe you should avert your eyes.  And where in the fuck do you get off trying to make someone feel bad about their body?  The day you have the confidence in your body to walk around in the outfit I am wearing, come talk to me.  Until then, keep your snide comments to yourself.”  I then turned on my heel and walked away.

From that point on I have made it a point to dress risqué as a Sister.  I still had body issues, but I would not let them show.  I was proudly showing off my body to let other people know it was okay to show off theirs.  It was my hope that my confidence would inspire others to be more confident in their own skin.

Since then, I have also done burlesque here and there to great appreciation, and I started studying bellydancing.  In those costumes I reveal proudly my most troubling of areas, and I flaunt, shake, jiggle, shimmy and shiver it.

I still do not have the body that I want, and I am working on that for myself.  However, I no longer feel like a beast.  I feel like an empowered person.  I am utterly comfortable in my skin.  I still sometimes have the crazy voice chime in when people are hitting on me, but it is very quiet and seldom actually impacts my life.  Maybe someday I will allow someone to love me.  One step at a time.