Pre-shoot Jitters and Struggling with my Demons

My photo shoot is three days away.  I just got done posting in my private event that I wasn’t even nervous, just excited.  Then the voices kicked in.

 

I should only do pictures from the front so no one can see my back fat.

I hope Christy gets Photoshop from JVL because my skin is awful right now.

Maybe I should skip the thongs, I have no butt.

What if I freeze and look like I’m being forced to get naked and pose?

What if I overcompensate by drinking too much champagne and end up red faced and sloppy?

What if….what if….imperfect….flawed….why am I doing this?

It’s times like this that I turn to one of my best friends and ask for help.  I need her to help squash the voices and the doubt and the fear.  She’s fiercely protective of me, even from me when I need it.  After eleven years, she knows how to talk me down and to make me feel safe.

I will make you look amazing.  It won’t be that hard because I’ve got an amazing, beautiful model to work with.  There are angles we can do and lighting effects and alcohol and music.  And I’m fun!  I’ll have you relaxed in no time.

She reminds me that it’s natural to feel imperfect.  That the goal of these pictures is to look those demons in the face and tell them to go fuck themselves.  That I AM sexy and camera worthy.  This is for me.  I’ll have 3 women there with me who will do everything in their power to love me, support me, calm me, and make me look on film the way they see me.

 

Yes, there will be a little Photoshop to fix slight imperfections (blemishes, random flyaway hairs), but my body will stay my own.  There will be no elongating or lifting or deleting.  I don’t need it.  My body is mine and it is perfect the way it is.

Now I just need to remember that in three days…

Healthy Doesn't Always Feel Sexy

Guest Blogger: Christy, Vermont

 

At the age of 20 I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis. For those of you who don’t know, ulcers coat the large intestine causing extreme pain if certain foods are ingested.  For me it was red meat, fried food, caffeine, chocolate, dairy, and fresh fruits and vegetables. I was basically eating fish and baby food. Even on the heaviest dosages of the meds given to those with this chronic disease, I was getting worse. My doctor told me that I was the worst case of this particular disease that he had seen in the tri-state area. I decided to seek other help.

I met with a surgeon who examined me and, in so many words, told me that it was either surgery or a slow, painful death in a few years. Not surprisingly I opted for surgery. There were other avenues, like shots from now until eternity but upon hearing the odds (1 in 3 the liver would fail, and then you’d still need the surgery PLUS have a failed liver) I decided surgery was my best option.

A couple weeks before my surgery I was so sick I couldn’t keep water down. I remember lying on my bed and staring at my scar-free stomach to try burn that image into my memory. Ten plus years after my surgery, I realize it didn’t work.

I never had a six pack or the best abs in the world but my stomach was relatively flat. Now I’m super conscience because a) there’s a huge 12 inch long scar running down the center of my stomach making my belly button slightly off center and b) I’ve got a weird bump and divot along the lower part of my stomach. I find myself pulling at my shirts to make sure that they aren’t tight allowing the imperfections to be seen. I wear pants that can hide the area but are low and loose enough to not hurt my stomach.  Gone are the days of two piece bathing suits.

A scar on any part of the body whether it’s from surgery, a car accident, or some other traumatic event, can cause a person psychological backlash. Having someone (whether it’s a loved one, a friend, a doctor, or a stranger) touch that scar or the area around it can trigger a fight or flight response. Anger, grief, and other strong emotions can quickly come to the surface as you back away quickly from the perceived “offender”.  There is continued healing long after the scar has healed.

It’s been 12 years since my surgery, and I think about my stomach and how it looks almost every day. I still flinch if my husband touches it while putting his arms around me. I’ve learned though over the years that without this scar and this part of me that can make me feel slightly less beautiful at my worst moments, that I wouldn’t be here. It’s the one part of my body that I’ll never be able to “fix” with diet and exercise. I’ve come to terms with this and remind myself that this scar on my imperfect stomach is beautiful because I’m still alive.

How I Learned to Love my Body

Here's the thing, it's impossible to properly take care of your body if you don't love it first and for a very long time I resented my body. I resented my excessively large chest that never fit into pretty bras and tops. I resented my wide and flat ass that never filled out a pair of jeans properly. I resented my round and copious stomach that always got in the way. I resented my too full lips that practically split my face when I smiled. I resented my arm flab that ruined tank tops for me.

I tried eating right. I tried unhealthy diets. I tried working out far to much and eating far too little. Losing weight was always a struggle. I did these things because I felt like I had to. Because I wanted to ensure that others would never look at my body in disgust as I did. That if anyone ever saw me naked, they wouldn't have to make an excuse to leave so they didn't have to go through with being with me. I grew angry with friends who tried to pick me up, terrified that they would realize just how heavy I really was or worse...that they'd hurt themselves. I only hugged those who I knew loved me enough that they would ignore my soft, squishy body as they embraced me.

As I've said many times before, I've worked hard to change this view of myself. With the aid of therapy and good friends I've made huge strides in learning to forgive my body for the imperfections society, media, and lazy doctors have told me it has. I went from resentment, to forgiveness and tolerance, and somewhere down the road I discovered love and acceptance.

To be blunt, sex is what helped me love my body. (Now is the time to run if you don't want to know more...)

I am by no means saying I need to have sex to feel good about myself or that any woman with self esteem issues should run out and jump on the first guy who gives her the eye. I waited a very long time before taking that step. Through college there were guys who expressed interest, but they were the kind of guys I knew I'd regret giving myself to. The smarmy ones with girlfriends back home who thought my self esteem was low enough that I'd find it complimentary that they'd cheat with me. The drunk guy at the bar who just wants to get laid. The jerk who's never been with a big girl and wants to try it out. I never felt flattered by these attentions. I felt dirty and unattractive. After a while I hit a point where I genuinely believed no one decent would ever want me and that there was a very good chance I would end up alone and untouched. Despite this devastating belief, I never wanted to compromise my standards or morals. While I was raised Catholic, I never really subscribed to the “no sex before marriage” ruling. I was more of a “I need to be able to trust you completely before revealing my body to you” mentality.

Shortly after I turned 28, I met someone. He was funny, confident, understanding, and made it abundantly clear that he found me incredibly sexy. I had no idea what to do with that information. I actually found the idea of someone finding me sexy laughable. No joke...I straight up laughed when he said this. So we started seeing one another; for the first time in my life I was thinking about having sex with someone. He was bold and aggressive with me. His hands went wherever he wanted and I let him. I liked it. I loved the way he would pull me into his arms and against his tall frame. I loved that he would put his hands on my hips or grab my ass as I walked by. Sitting on the couch, he would frequently give me what I affectionately called ninja kisses, suddenly turning toward me and capturing my mouth with his. I realized that I had power. There was an attractive man that I wanted and I made him lose control. Something about me made him want to touch me and capture me...and I loved it.

Every time our physical relationship went a little farther I learned something new about myself. It was fascinating to learn how my body could fit with someone else. How it would react to certain touches. The way it moved. I learned to like how parts of my body moved and shook in the heat of the moment. I started to like how I have places for a man to grab on to and that I'm soft enough for him to enjoy pressing into me. My chest went from excessive, to ample and soft. My ass is not flat, it is grab-able and fun to watch as I walked away. The skin on my stomach is smooth and touchably soft to run hands over. My full lips form playful smiles and are amazing to kiss. My arms are strong enough to hold me where he wants me or to keep him close. I discovered my power and love of my body. I could reduce a man to lust and need all along, I just never found anyone who deserved it. It opened up a whole world of discoveries of who I was and what I could be / do. I could be the nice girl you bring home to mom...and then push up against a wall the second you made it home. I could be an evil tease. I could make you lose control. I could leave you breathless. I could bring a smile to your face just by walking into a room. No man would settle for me...he would never need to. I realized I had the ability to be everything to someone.

But in the meantime, I don't hate my body when a dress doesn't fit right...the cut just doesn't work for my shape. If jeans are too small, I just grab another size. If I find a pretty bra that fits me, I buy 5 of them. I buy lingerie and wear it to bed even though I sleep alone because it makes me feel sexy. I dress up for me...and I wear jeans and a t-shirt for me too.

Now, I want to change my body for the right reasons. I want to eat better and exercise more because I know it will make me healthier and will make my body feel better. I don't care if I lose a few inches off my waist or if the number on the scale is smaller. My goal is more energy. A better quality of life. Treating my body more like the temple I know it is. And finding someone worthy enough to worship it. ;-)

"You have a very pretty face, but..."

“...you might want to wear a long scarf to distract from your stomach. The color's great though."

This is what a woman shopping at the store I was in thought was okay to say to me when I asked her opinion on a shirt I was trying on. She then proceeded to tell me how Zumba helped her get healthier, but I might need to do some core toning too to tighten up a bit.

When I went to the doctor for my strep throat, I brought up the sleeping issues I've been having for the last few months. Instead of listening to me at all she just looked me up and down and said, “It's probably because of your weight.” Because of that it took another 2 months of not sleeping and crying at the drop of a hat for my next doctor to diagnose me with depression.

First of all...do not point out that I'm overweight. Newsflash, I NOTICED! This is not knowledge I didn't already possess so you've done me no favors to point it out. Lady, I just need a fun top for a show tonight. As for you, Doc Lazy, my sleep issues started recently and I'm smaller than I used to be...do your job.

Second of all, I've been doing Zumba for 3 or 4 years now quite regularly. I have a 2 minute joke about it in my set.  On top of that I also swim, do physical therapy, and do toning exercises when I can. I haven't been as consistent as I would like since my surgery last year, but I do it and I've maintained my weight loss. Don't make assumptions on my lifestyle based on the way I look to you.

Lastly, while I did invite their attention on me by asking their opinion, when did it become alright to speak to someone like that? Whether you know them or not, there is nothing acceptable about those exchanges. Body shaming is wrong, no matter who you are or who you are speaking to. Their body is none of your concern. Mind your own business and move along. And as a doctor, do some work. Don't assume one thing is caused by something that obvious. Put in a little effort.

I'm a big girl. I have been for most of my life. A large percentage of that is my body type while the rest is definitely psychological. As I dealt with my buried issues, a good chunk of weight just disappeared...just from going to therapy and cleaning the skeletons from my closet. With some lifestyle shifts (very small ones, old habits die hard) I was able to loose 100 pounds over the course of a few years. Despite the three digit loss, I'm still a big girl! Even if I lost another 100 pounds, I'm still going to be tall, broad, and soft. And you know what that means? It means I will always be amazing to hug. It doesn't mean I don't take pride in my body or that I live a self destructive lifestyle. I'm not the healthiest person by any means. If I want to eat a burger, I order a burger...and I don't skip the fries. I'll eat less of them because I know I don't need to clear my plate, but I salt them and enjoy every fried bite. On the other hand, I will try to eat a bit healthier during the day so I don't feel like I'm going to die later. Having a gall bladder removed is fantastic motivation to be more aware of how much crap you put into you body.

NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM

I swim and I go for walks or dance like a stripper in my favorite Zumba class, but if I'm tired or have the chance to hang out with someone I love....I skip it. Because while I want to be a healthy me...I want to be a happy me more. If I'm having a bad day and I know I should go to the gym, but I need some lovin' from a good friend...THAT is my priority. Because health means nothing if it controls your life. And not to point fingers, but if you look at my lifestyle compared to that of some of my “acceptably sized” friends...I'm healthier than some of them. So drawing conclusions just by looking at me is unfair. You don't know me.

How is anyone is this society supposed to love themselves or take pride in the way they look when everything they see if constantly telling them they aren't good enough? How am I supposed to look in the mirror and tune out the voices from high school who tell me I'm grotesque because my arms jiggle when I lift them or because I can't touch my toes with my stomach in the way? How do you learn to love yourself BECAUSE of your body, not IN SPITE of your body when everything out there tells you that isn't right?

You fight back. You find people who love you for you and are blind to what society would consider flaws. Good people who compliment you because they just can't keep it to themselves that your eyes are stunning when you wear that blue shirt. People who sigh and hug you tighter because you're soft and snuggly and it feels amazing to them. Loving people, who tell you that you are beautiful in so many ways and deserve beauty in your life right when you need to hear it.

You do things that scare you. Like going onstage in a corset, lace stockings, and a tutu without worrying about your thighs or arm flab. You perform with a burlesque troupe who celebrates bodies as they are. All shapes and sizes and colors. You give yourself a moment to revel in the fact that, those catcalls are for you...because you are exactly what the people want to see. You are sexy and confident and completely able to knock their socks off. You absorb that positive energy and let it consume you because you're beautiful too and other people really will see that if they allow themselves to truly appreciate beauty. You remember that the loudest voices are not always the right ones nor are they the majority...they're just loud.

Screw you, I'm adorable!

And you ask for help. While it's true that you don't need the approval of others to feel good about yourself, in a world where people think it's okay to tell you to distract people from your stomach so they don't get sick to their own, it sure as fuck doesn't hurt to have people who will shamelessly love you to your face. Women who don't just pick out parts of your body they wish they had, but tell you that your Amazon woman build makes you fabulous and stunning. Co-workers who don't just tell you that you look nice today, but that you look EXTRA nice today. Men who don't find you attractive despite your curves, but ones who worship each and every one. Ones who see you naked on a bed exactly as you are and lose all self control.

The loudest voices are people who are insecure and desperate to make themselves heard. They stand on soap boxes, or behind podiums, or keyboards screaming their “truths” hoping to God someone validates them...making THEM feel worthy. Because that is all they know how to do. If you tear other people down far enough, you become the top by default right?

Wrong.

While there are some days that I look in the mirror and start seeing every single “flaw” mocking me and making me feel less than I am...I am still on top. Because those are just thoughts. They are not truths. My truths are this:

-I am worthy of love and admiration

-I am beautiful, even on days when I don't feel it or believe it

-I am loved by some incredible people who have excellent taste ;-)

-I am smart and funny – people care what I have to say and enjoy my company

-I am a good person who loves with everything she has

-I am strong, no one has the power to take any of this from me unless I give it to them

So stop the shame and hate...of others AND of yourself. It doesn't matter if you're a size 0 or an 8 or a 32. There is no war between “skinny bitches” and “real women”! Yes, some days I wish I could fit into a size 6 because that gorgeous dress isn't made an 18, but some days size 6 girls wish they had my 40Js or my shade of blonde hair. It doesn't matter.

I am who I am and there's no one else I'd rather be.