This past Wednesday night, I had a second date with a bartender I met a few weeks ago in Williamsburg. He's cute- a San Diego boy with a west coast vibe that's been really refreshing. (I'm really, really over the morose, effeminate thing NY guys are staunchly holding on to.) At the end of our first date we had made out, and it was pretty fantastic. So naturally on this second date we made out again, and again it was awesome. But I found myself getting upset this time, specifically when his hand kept feeling up on my butt. Not because he was touching it. Not even because it's been awhile since someone really touched me (when I wasn't stoned or drunk or both.) No, and this is something I never, ever, ever talk about: this anxiety is not new. In fact, this "hating of my body" thing has been plaguing me since my early 20's, possibly longer. Those 7+ years of thinking I look horrible led to me thinking things like this (during what should be a perfectly enjoyable make out session):
-Is he touching my butt so lightly because he hates it and he's grossed out and now he's kinda stuck there because it's awkward if he stops?
-Is it too big?
-Is it not tight enough?
-Does my whole body feel unappealing and awful when he touches it?
-When he sees it without clothes, will he vomit or be vastly disappointed?
-Will he close his eyes during sex because I'm too disgusting to look at?
-Does he think my legs are too thick?
-Is my stomach sticking out at all?
-Is he feeling my hips and wishing they were bonier and narrower?
-Will he hate that my boobs are small?
-When I take my bra off, will yet another guy look crestfallen that that's all I've got?
-Will he cup them sadly, and wish there was more?
-Will yet another experience like that make me want to get implants?
-Does he look at my face and think I'm ugly?
And so on.
Yeah, that was my literal, line for line, inner monologue on Wednesday. But it's been going on like that, with various guys, for nearly a decade. Whether it's when I'm just hanging with a man, during sex, going for a run, walking down the street, or when I'm home alone- it's pretty much all the time. It never used to be this all-consuming; I've definitely noticed a spike in the past two years. Granted, I am older, and my body looks different from when I was 21. Sure. And I am on thyroid medication which a bad doctor fucked with a few years ago, causing weight gain and depression from ages 25-27. But now? What did I do this project for, if not to heal exact issues like this? Why is this taxing mental shittiness over my looks still happening?
I, maybe too naively, assumed that since this project fixed so many of my other issues, this body image thing was fixed, too. Ya know. By the transitive property. But alas, no. Over the past few weeks, as I've started dating again, I'm still thinking about it all the time. When I think about having sex now, as long as I don't have to THINK, I'm dowwwwwn. But the second I start to use my real brain, all these negative thoughts attack, and I feel exposed and vulnerable and afraid and turned off- turned off at MYSELF, because I think I look hideous. I don't know if this is just because I've gone through such an inner shift that I haven't quite settled in it yet. Right? Maybe I'm still feeling a little raw and new from emerging out of this 100 day metamorphosis. But even so.
The truth is, while it may be something that permeates my thoughts every minute of every day, and I am painfully consciously and constantly aware of it- I've never once addressed it in a way to figure it out or fix it. I've never really asked myself why I do it, or how can I stop it. I don't hide from it, I don't deny that I do it, I don't even necessarily dislike that I do it (ugh, weird.) So unlike all the other issues I FINALLY let come to the surface, face, and resolve throughout this project, why not this one? Had it become such a habit, so ingrained in my everyday life and thoughts, that I now see it merely as a routine, a part of me? Has it established such a stronghold over me, in my life and actions, that I forgot I have control over it?
I spent Thursday morning trying to figure it all out in a way I never had. I wasn't scared of this new digging and questioning quest, but I was hitting dead end after dead end. I kept coming up with nothing, no answers that made sense. Until finally, after about fifteen minutes of real, scrunched-up, closed-eyes thinking, I had it. And you know what, I never would have, had I not resolved all those other things I have in the past 100 days.
Over the years of the casual sex thing, as we know now, I grew to only value my sexual, sexy, fun, funny side. What I didn't realize was how much subconscious pressure I was putting on myself to look a certain way (i.e., perfect.) Since I only valued, and only liked, my sexual side, I would be devastated if I ever lost the thing that kept it going (= my looks/body.) The more I had casual sex, the more dependent I became on my outside appeal, and the more obsessed I became in maintaining it. If I thought I looked less than stunning, I wouldn't leave my house. I would cancel dates, hookups, even plans with friends. It became this monster that took over my brain because in my mind, it's the only thing that gave me value. I derived all my worth on looking fucking fantastic, literally, and couldn't bear to be seen or touched if I thought I looked anything less.
This is not something I ever talk about. Again, not because I'm in denial about it or because I'm ashamed of it. But because, for one thing, people don't understand if I ever do talk about it. They think I'm ridiculous and crazy and roll their eyes. It's been an extremely private and deprecating obsession, one I'm sure has kept me single over the years. Because aside from not cultivating all the other things that make me, me, I spent so much energy devoted to trying to look like what I envisioned as perfect. That tunnel vision made me blind and numb to anyone and anything else. I walked through life in a sort of haze, which made me closed off and further unable to open up, or be genuinely myself. I was so focused on this, that it took the joy out of my life 80% of the time. In those rare moments where I thought I looked good enough that I didn't have to think about it, I would actually relax. I could be in the moment and enjoy. But the other 80% of the time...miserable. I didn't realize how over time this would evolve into it's own almost unconquerable monster, and ironically, how striving for physical perfection would actually turn me to shambles.
Then there was my backwards thinking "rejection loophole" system. Being sexy and looking great might have saved me from rejection in the short term, especially with young dudes. But in the long term? Rejection, while not on a personal level in the hookup realm, is inevitable. Casual sex partners generally fizzle out, have a shelf life of maybe 3-6 months. So I would continue to have fling after fling, feeling safe because I couldn't be rejected in a way that would hurt, but also never having real love. Which I didn't realize at the time was also tearing me up inside. When I started to secretly want more, romantically, now... I didn't know how to get it. My sex appeal and body had gotten me years of (physical) "love", but great sex alone wouldn't work beyond that. No matter how awesome my blowjobs are, a meaningful, fulfilling relationship can't be sustained on them alone. I started to feel even more lost, because something that had always worked in getting me what I "wanted", was now failing me. But I no longer knew myself beyond the sexiness, and was at a complete loss on how to proceed if I didn't even know who I was beyond an awesome lay. So as a result, the negative body image problem exploded. In my failing attempts to figure out who I was beyond sex, I became even more unhealthily obsessed with looking perfect. It was the only thing I knew to work, and I foolishly thought it might. But as the early entries of this project clearly show: it didn't work at all.
So now that I see it, am I fixed? Not yet. Odds are this is only part of a much larger answer. But I do owe this project yet another debt of gratitude because without it, I never would've inspected this particularly nasty habit closer, if at all. Now that I know it's directly linked to years of my valuing being sexually desirable only, I can see it eventually stopping; I'm not chasing the casual lifestyle anymore. I have also noticed I'm approaching my diet and fitness routine in a much healthier (and much, much more sane) way. Yeah, I still look in the mirror and gag and nitpick and throw my hands up in frustration. And I'm still PETRIFIED about whoever the first guy to see me naked once this is over, is. But I am relieved, and glad, that I forced my myself to address this and figure it the answer. It was (unbeknownst to me until this week, anyway) the last thing on my checklist before I check out from this man-hiatus. And now I feel I've hit all the points on this trail and fully inspected all the elements. I'm certainly not a "finished" product, but for now, I feel ready to move on past this small yet very dense chapter. I will look back on this project and feel I climbed a mountain. I know there will be many more. But now, I'll be ready.
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