Sunday, 21 December 2014

Bringing back the sass

I've spent, its seems, almost all my life bemoaning and being ashamed of the fact that I was always, always bigger than the norm. Forever trying to make myself slimmer looking, slimmer in truth, hiding my body, disguising it with dark clothes, loose clothes, always wearing frumpy stuff which skimmed and hid. Slouching. Being a smartarse, to deflect attention from my body. Hiding in plain sight. Standing behind people in photographs. Trying always to take up less room in this life. Minimizing myself.

It has coloured my life, this dissatisfaction about my wieght & rotundity and affected my self-esteem a lot. Probably was the reason I was sexually promiscuous at an early age when really none of those boys ever made me feel special. Looking for validation in the wrong places.
And so it continued through 3 long term partners and lots of shorter affaires, flings, one night stands. Every one of those men, always commented on my fat, and how I would be happier if I just lost a little, what a sweet, pretty face I had, mention pop stars who might have similar features but be half my size, mention liking stuff like tight bottoms, tiny light women they'd dated before...a veritable stable of little pricks and pokes and sharp little digs to prickle through my fat self as unworthy, unpretty, not as good as all those other women they discussed. And I never realised it as put downs, just as advice on how to become prettier etc., merely internalizing it, and subconsciously eating away the hurt and putting it under more fat to protect my self from it.

All that changed earlier this month, when I encountered a man who absolutely loved every curve, every roll, every pound of me. Just exactly as I am now. Yes, my currently size 26/28 self. That one with the enormous bum, massively wobbly thighs, and arms like fat joined sausages. He adored my stomach, gulped and sighed over my bum, was awed and blissed out holding my soft self to him. It was a total revelation to me. Not one of my lovers previous to this one had ever celebrated my body in such a way. And it made me feel so beautiful, and for the first time in my life, I felt sexy, truly and utterly. And free. Free to be entirely myself, without trying to position myself so my body looked 'better'. Without feeling I had to perform for him, to ensure he had the best sexual time as a compensation for being with fat unlovely me, because it was untrue. He felt he was the lucky person, and that was so gloriously sweet. And I am smiling even now while I think of this. If nothing else, this man did me the biggest good turn of his life, he gave me back my confidence in myself, without my having to change one iota of my being. And for that he defininitely deserves his place in my hall of heroes.

From this, I have had the confidence to be myself in almost every thing I have done since. I've been sassy. I've been sociable. I've gone out and done stuff unthinkable of just 6 months ago. Perhaps part of it is that after a long period of depression my chemicals have rearranged themselves. Or it was just time for my brain to re-engage in life. But these last 3-4 weeks, which coincided with my going back on the paleo/primal bandwagon have been the best weeks in the last 5 years. Even if I encounter any fat-haters from now on, this memory will be one that will make me feel great, and know that I am just fine, whatever size I am.

So, thank you, Harry, I will always cherish your memory, sweet man.

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