DISCLAIMER! WE’RE GETTING VERY PERSONAL HERE SO IF YOU CAN'T READ ABOUT PUBERTY, SELF-LOATHING, OR BREASTS WITHOUT GETTING UNCOMFORTABLE, YOU MIGHT WANT TO JUMP TO THE END.
This post is gonna be two parts but they flow into each
other.
I have always felt very insecure about my body. I was 100
pounds in 5th grade, I started growing hair on my nether regions
when I was 8. (yes 8) And I was always so much bigger than my friends. To be
fair, I did have some tiny friends. But my size and development for my young
age always seemed a little off to me.
For the past 20 years I have had a “fake it until you make
it” attitude. Pretend you're confident, and you’ll soon believe it. And maybe,
just maybe, other people would start to believe it too.
Well, I was 12 and getting my first bikini wax and buying a
cupped tankini bathing suit for spring break when I realized I had to REALLY fake it. So I did
the best I could.
Switching gears a little bit.
My body has always been an issue in regards to sexuality and
romance. You can’t expect other people to like you if you don’t like yourself.
My whole life I have been the best friend of the girls that every one finds
attractive. And I’m okay with it. I’ve never experienced someone asking my
friends about me. About what my “deal is”. It never really started to get to me
until recently.
I had my first kiss at overnight camp when I was 10. When I
say kiss I mean that me and this lucky boy ran behind the rock wall, puckered
up and touched lips for a millisecond before I ran off like a little girl.
The first time I “made out”, or “hooked up” or “frenched”
someone was when I was 15. It was also at camp. It’s true what they say, a lot
of firsts happen at camp. Not all of them involve kissing though. It was after
evening program and me and this, again, lucky boy (same one that I had
my first kiss with, AWWW cute) threw our foldable chairs on the ground and
walked deep into the woods surrounding “the make out trail”.
I am EXTREMELY confident that this night, and every night after that, what we were doing was not the correct technique. We both seemed okay with it but we were teenagers.
I am EXTREMELY confident that this night, and every night after that, what we were doing was not the correct technique. We both seemed okay with it but we were teenagers.
I was one of the last girls in my cabin to play tonsil
tennis. (sorry about that I was just trying to use a different way to phrase
it) When the bugle rang and I ran across the athletic field with my bra still
on but unhooked, all 13 of my cabin mates were smushed in the corner by my
bunk, waiting to hear every detail of my first base (?) experience. I took my
new burst of confidence into sophomore year of high school. But that confidence
was soon lost under baggy sweatshirts, homework stress, and whatever other
self-loathing inhibitors life threw at me.
Since then not much has happened to me. The occasional butt
and hip grab at frat parties. The little kisses that my friends and I used to
give each other to say hello. The times I showed the entire female staff my
boobs because I was proud of how symmetrical and perfectly shaped they were.
Other than that, not much.
I can’t blame the lack of “action” all on the male species.
I will take some of it. I am not confident in my body. I am more confident now
than I was when I was 9. Or when I was 16. But I could still feel better about
myself. I don’t feel comfortable putting myself out there because I don’t
necessarily like what I would be putting out. Don’t get me wrong, I love
myself. I am one of the coolest and most beautiful people I know. But you have
those days, weeks, or months when you look in the mirror and all you want to do
is throw your hair in a ponytail, wear your XXXL sweatshirt and eat a plate of
nachos while watching 10 Things I Hate
About You for the thousandth time. It’s your favorite movie but it makes
you even angrier when you see how stick thin and hip Kat Stratford is and
making a panty dropper like Heath Ledger fall in love with her?? I love it but
I hate it. (I mostly love it)
I got my first real bra in 5th grade. I got
measured at Victoria’s Secret and got a pretty purple bra that clips in the
front. I was happy that I was contained and maybe it wouldn’t be noticeable. My
breasts stayed that size but my stomach started growing. I can’t tell you when
I started to hit puberty and “thin out” because my body has always been the
same as far as I’m concerned. Sure my neck elongated slightly but I can still
bust out a mad triple chin if the situation demands it. If I wasn’t chubby
before, I was now. I was big for my age. And I was about to go to middle
school and get braces. Things were not looking up.
I had a friend in middle school that every boy wanted to get
a piece of. That sounds terrible and if she’s reading this I don’t mean it in a
slut way. I just mean it in a “you got male attention” way. She had hips, she
had a slim waist, she was pretty, and she had fully developed boobs. She was
one of my best friends and I spent every weekend with her and she would tell me
about her new boyfriend and I would hangout with them. Super fun times right?
Honestly things could’ve been worse. She still hung out with me and the rest of
our friends. There just might have been an extra topic of discussion, or an
extra person. Either way, things were okay for me. I didn’t feel like the
chubby sidekick. I was still too delusional to care about the attention of
boys. So things were okay.
It’s when I got older that my body confidence started to
dwindle. High School.
No one was ever mean to me. No one had ever said, “I don’t
want to go out with Lindsey.” Or “I don’t want to kiss Lindsey”. It’s just
nobody thought about it. As far as I know. I tried not to think about it. I
still try not to think about it. I would go with guy friends to dances so there
was no pressure. I would sit and listen to all my friends’ boy issues, envious
of their confidence.
I decided to tell myself that I was fine with the way things
were. I convinced myself that I was okay with hearing the stories and watching
my friends buy cuter, more slimming clothing. Everything was fine. I was fine
with myself, and being by myself. I didn’t need it.
I still tell myself that. I don’t need it. Which is
partially true. What I need is more body confidence. I think we all do but mine
is very necessary in order for my happiness to flourish. What I need is to put
myself out there. What I actually need is more male attention. It seems silly.
I seems REALLY silly when I write it out. But I truly believe it. I get red and
flustered whenever I think a boy is cute. I had a crush on my TA the entire
first semester. Everyone in my class knew and would push me to go talk to him
but I refused. Because I am still a 15 year old girl who is convinced that I’m
fine. That I don’t need to talk to this boy because I don’t need him to “like
like” me. And anyway, he probably never will.
I have said for years that I don’t see marriage in my
future. It’s not on my list of goals or things I want to do. I want to be successful
in other departments but if a dashing young man happens to turn up on my way to
my dreams, so be it. There are a lot of times I don’t see the point of getting
more body confident or putting myself out there because of that reason alone. I’m fine right here.
But this is what I’m saying. I’ve brainwashed myself to act
like I’m fine. I’ve convinced myself that the slightest form of interest from
someone or the littlest bit of intimacy makes me weaker. I don’t need this, I’m
fine just the way I am.
Well people of the internet, things are not fine. Things
have not been fine since it was pointed out to everyone in the day camp
bathroom that my body was developing when I was 8. Things have not been fine
since I was 15 and was scared this boy would get bored with me after a couple
days of “hooking up” so I faked being sick for the rest of the summer. Things
have not been okay since I developed an aversion to being touched in any way.
Hugging and kissing my family is sometimes physically and mentally hard for me
because I convinced myself so well that I didn’t need any type of affection of any kind. That somehow a hug would make me weaker. That I would be
sharing too much of myself.
Writing this post has helped a lot. It’s 12:36am on Saturday
December 29th. Mom gave me some sleeping pills that didn’t work.
(shocker) I started writing this in my head and needed to get it down
immediately. Life is tough and you have to be with yourself through the whole
thing. You might as well try and love your body to the fullest. And then let
people in and love you too. It’s easier said than done. Obviously, I am a
living, breathing, hypocrite of that statement. But I feel better after putting
things into words.
Why would I share this on the internet? It’s very personal.
Do you want attention?
1) Why the fuck not?
2) Yeah its personal. I’m a real human being with
emotions and thoughts and things to say
3) AND YEAH I WANT ATTENTION. DIDN’T YOU READ THE
POST. I may not know what to do with it or what to say or even acknowledge it
at all but as people we CRAVE attention and I have gone far too long pretending
like I’m too good for it.
Well mah dudes. I hope you related to, enjoyed, or are
shocked at the things I put in this post. If so, then I must be a great writer
if I provoked any kind of strong emotion from you. Hope you have a great break
and that you all love yourselves and demand attention from the people around
you.
PEACE.
TV PICKS OF THE POST:
Derry Girls-Netflix
ABSOLUTELY AMAZING. Very raunchy so if that's not your cup of tea then pass on it but WOW. Can't wait for the second season.
T@gged- Hulu
The best worst show I've watched in a while. It's so bad that it's good and the episodes fly by.
Ellen: Relatable- Netflix
Always a crowd pleaser. Her return to stand-up was amazing and her stories and heart complete the special.
Springsteen on Broadway- Netflix
Talk about amazing. He's a story teller and it is refreshing to see him do what he does best. Plus, two hour long shows, 5 nights a week, for 14 weeks. Doing the same thing night after night with just him, a piano, and his guitar. That's why he's The Boss.
I'm trying to minimize my Netflix list so I'll keep you updated.
What are you still doing here? The post is over! Go Home!
(Ferris Bueller’s Day Off reference for the real fans)
