TW weight talk, obvs. (sometimes I feel like I overuse TW but hey, you can never be too careful.)
(oops this post ended up being mostly about me and not so much about the article. but it’s still a good article!!)
As always with Vice articles I would strongly recommend not reading the comments, especially since this is an Alison Stevenson article, although they aren’t as bad as they often are.
(Side note: I am really beginning to like Alison Stevenson a lot and I wish she would come write for Jezebel because I would seriously love to be able to discuss her articles with the MP commenters who I like.)
I am having thoughts about this article but it’s almost 3 AM so they are not very coherent thoughts. For the most part, I strongly agree with her, although I’m going to have to check out those articles about attraction before I buy that anyone can smell how fertile I am.
I feel all the feels she is describing, but I’m in a bit of a transition point. I’ve been plus size or borderline plus size the majority of my life, and most of the time I was mostly okay with it. Then, last year, I lost a lot of weight and got down to a size 8. And I was in love with my body.
Sometime in my late teens or early 20s I switched to wearing fairly conservative clothing - low cut, but that’s about all the skin I ever showed, and I didn’t wear tight stuff on my upper half. I wasn’t exactly ashamed about my rolls, but I also kind of was, and that’s how I came to terms with it and hid it and dealt with it. You could see my body but I wasn’t super uncovered or anything.
Anyway, I got down to a size 8 and bought my first ever pair of shorts. Bought tank tops that I didn’t wear with coverups for the first time in I don’t know how long. Stopped hiding my arms, stopped hiding my legs. I freaking bought a bikini, although I did use high waisted bottoms because I wasn’t THAT comfortable yet.
I stopped being self concious during sex, about what position I was in and if my stomach was pooching out. I stopped feeling like a behemoth who was going to crush someone if I got on top of them. I was way more confident about my looks when all the clothes are off and you can see the real me than I have been... ever?
Then, because it’s me (and because I lost the weight for a guy mostly, because.. me), I gained all the weight back. Good news, I didn’t have to buy new clothing since I never got rid of my old clothing. Bad news, I was suddenly very unhappy with my body. Where I was okay with it most of the time before I lost weight (just not so much during sexy times because I used clothes as camouflage), I was now pretty fucking unhappy about my size. I avoided looking in mirrors, I didn’t want to be naked in front of people, again. Seeing my “thin” clothes in the closet and knowing I couldn’t wear them often sent me into a tailspin of self loathing.
This lasted for a while, but ever so recently, I decided I was being silly. If I’m basing my self worth on how attractive I am to other people (which obviously I should not be, but yeah anyway), tons of people have found me attractive. I have never wanted for sexual partners, or even people to date. If I’m basing my self worth on how attractive *I* find myself, I’m being even sillier. Because I’ve always found myself beautiful. Not to get too self-congratulatory, but I love my breasts, I love my face, and I love my butt. I love my body hair and I love my moles, I love my hands and I love my scars. There are things about my body that I don’t like, of course, but I do find myself very attractive. 10/10, would bang.
The insecurity with sexy times never came from my opinion of how I looked (before the weight loss and weight re-gain, anyway) - I could see myself naked in the mirror and love myself. I was just convinced that people would be totally grossed out if they saw my rolls and my fat and everything when we were banging.
So I decided it was time to get over it. I bought tight clothing. I bought shorts. I bought crop tops to wear with those shorts. I stopped looking at myself in the mirror in disgust and started telling myself I was fucking hot, again. I don’t hide my body when I’m with sexual partners or doing sexual things where I’m naked. I send nude selfies like an idiot on a regular basis. And... I’m working on it.
I am Faking it till I Make it. Because I still look at myself and am disgusted with how large I am. And it’s grossly unfair to myself because I find other women my size fucking gorgeous - I have never been disgusted by another woman’s body. It doesn’t matter the size to me, unless it’s my body. But I see me, and all I see is the fat and the cellulite. I see the rolls, I see the stretch marks.
Fucking hell though, I am trying. Faking confidence has worked for me in the past. I convince myself I love myself. Often it’s rather superficial because deep down I am still painfully aware of how flawed I am. But at least I can be superficially happy, and at least I can force myself to look in the mirror and to like what I see. If I lie to myself long enough I’ll start believing it deep down.
This post ended up being a lot more about my personal journey than about Alison’s article, but that’s what triggered it, anyway. I would love to hear anyone else’s thoughts about this - about what I said, or about what she wrote, or both!
(Or about ways we can convince her to come write for Jezebel even though she seems to do well at Vice. Join usssss. JOIN USSSSSS.)
Like I actually really would love to discuss what she says about men and their attraction to larger ladies in this article, I just... did not write a post about that at all for some reason. I’m blaming the late night.
ETA: Also I am going to bed because of previously mentioned very late at nightness, but I’ll respond to anyone who wants to talk about this when I get up in the afternoon! I’m not ignoring you, I’m just sleeping. :)