Talking Body- Tove Lo

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 5^th 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 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 5^th 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 29^th. 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. 

Talking Body- Tove Lo

What are you still doing here? The post is over! Go Home!

(Ferris Bueller’s Day Off reference for the real fans)