Posts Tagged ‘body image’

Gimme equal pay, but lemme where some stilettos, k?

February 13, 2017

ok so… I got some thoughts going on in my head. I’m not sure it’s linear enough for a blog post. I’m all over the place. There’s a central theme, but, well… You’ll see if you can handle the ramble.

Feminism vs anti-feminism?

I just tried to google the opposite of feminism and really there isn’t a word.

Misogyny isn’t necessarily the opposite. Obviously you can’t be misogynistic and a feminist… but being anti feminism doesn’t necessarily mean something as malicious as misogyny, right?

I feel like I fit somewhere in between (not between misogyny and feminism, but feminism vs anti-feminism). I believe in a balance. I believe in the Ying-Yang of life and the universe. But I also think women can do it all… within the biological realm of reality anyway.

So…

When I’m at work I want to be treated equally. Same pay and compensation. Same expectations and repercussions. I NEED my male co-workers to see me on an equal level. I need them to not crack comments about my mood and hormones. I need them to not ask me to coordinate the baby shower next month. I need them to feel like they can come to me for work advice because I’m just as good as the next guy. All these things are the not the case and it drives me insane. Working in a male dominated field isn’t the most zen experience of my life. These guys don’t even hear anything wrong with the things they say! Open your ears! I could go on and on about what these guys think are okay. I MEAN ON AND ON AND ON FEMALE-HORMONE-RANT STYLE…. 😐 hm.

Then there’s that… I am female. And I do have to deal with hormones on a monthly basis. And guess what? Those males I work with, they have to deal with me during those times too. And it’s a true statement to say that hormones effect my mood. And sometimes very drastically so. It’s not something I can help too much. This is a fact of life. No amount of feminism is going to undo do the fact that the chemistry in my body is reeking havoc on almost all function of my body. IT. JUST. IS. Women ARE different. So when I storm out because some fucking fuck face says something misogynistic about lipstick and credit cards in my purse because I JUST CAN’T handle stupid shitty comments like that they are most certainly not wrong about it being my time of the month. GRRR. What do we do with those moments, feminists??? How could I possibly combat that??? lol I mean, when I flip out over a misogynistic comment because my hormones won’t allow me to smile and nod and maybe even retort with something flippantly witty…? It’s comical, right? Well, it’s comical in 4 to 7 days, anyway….

But… I want to be a girl. I want to be treated like something special. I want to feel the protection a man can provide. I want to be able to hand a jar of pickles over to a man to muscle that sunuvabish open. Just like I want to be someone a guy can lean on for support. I want to be that safe place a man can come and crumble upon because he knows the massive amount of respect I have for him and the amount of warm, soft, feminine comfort I have waiting for him to crash into. I want to fill in his gaps and I want my gaps to be filled (sexually and otherwise – ba dum chhhh). I want to be the ying to his yang. I want to flow together so well we are better than two puzzle pieces… Like oil and water coming together with perfect, visible seems. Touching each other whole-y, but both very separate and different. You can see one. You can see the other. They are very distinct.

When it comes to significant others and their roles in the household I think that should just be something agreed upon between the two. When I was married, I was happy to do dishes if I didn’t have to mow the lawn. I’m okay with that trade off of responsibilities. My ex husband HATED laundry but didn’t mind vacuuming the stairs, which i hated! He liked to fix things and he liked to make things look better. I’m bad at it, so I was happy to have him use tools that I wasn’t comfortable using and making things look good because he had the better decorative eye. When he took on special tasks like cleaning the garage I didn’t mind taking on a larger load in the house. I’d much rather be in the comfort of the AC.

So here I am. I strongly feel my feelings and opinions and beliefs and preferences should be considered AND VALUED. But I’m not going to be weird when I’m cooking dinner for 2. And I want to be your princess too.

Okay… another HUGE ASPECT THAT PROMPTED THIS WHOLE TRAIN OF THOUGHT TODAY:

Where’s the line at work? Where’s the line in my brain? I LOVE to wear a skirt and high heels. It makes me good about myself. I love feeling sexy. I don’t know of a single thing I can do that delivers the same feeling. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I don’t do it because I want some man to undress me with his eyes, or admire me walking down the hallway, or for someone else’s pleasure. I don’t think. Is that denial? I hope not. I love how I feel when I think I look sexy. If I leave the house and I don’t feel cute, I don’t have a good day. Period. End of discussion. My day is shitty. My self confidence: tanked. My body image: poor.

So how does feminism come into play there? Am I anti-feminist because I enjoy feeling sexy and powerful purely by the clothes I wear and the body under them?? What’s that about? Gimme equal pay, but lemme where some stilettos, k? I don’t know.

Last tangent, swear: Interesting offshoot about women in corporate environments. The ones that dress sexy or dress flattering for their figure always look younger at older ages. The women in heels and a skirt… they look 20 years younger than those women that wear the frumpy slacks. Whats that about? Why are those types of women more likely to take care of themselves in other ways? Is it just our vanity? But is it vanity or healthy pride? Are the other women just choosing other values and other things that make them feel good? I’m sure that’s what it is. They have a different priority list and their clothes choice just isn’t there. But then neither is their health…. I don’t know. Major ramble at this point.

I think I’ll wrap that up here.

Hope everyone has a great week! Happy Monday!

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week 8

September 13, 2016

So you know how you have those days where you wake up feeling disgusting. Gross. Bloated. Fat as the bed you are in. You don’t want any one to look at you. You don’t want to deal with people. You kind of want to cry. Nothing fits. Nothing that fits looks good. And you know it will make the day even worse.

Well, today is THE OPPOSITE OF ONE OF THOSE DAYS.

I don’t know that I’ve ever had so many bad days to wake up with a skinny day? Is that a thing? Fat days, I get. But skinny days??? What??? Am I dehydrated? Did I not eat yesterday? No! I even hit my gallon of water yesterday. I did grab two workouts. One including some heavy lifting and the other some really intense cardio… Hmmm…. Maybe I DO need the combo. Drats. Lol. Also my diet was perfect yesterday. Lots of protein. And all day control.

Makes me want to recreate everything I did yesterday to recreate such a great moment this morning as I looked in the mirror. It just doesn’t happen often. It doesn’t. My poor ole body image. Its wrecked.

Anyway, that is all I had today. I’m starting week 8. Week 8 of 17. Geez. The big picture view is way harder than the daily view. I get so impatient. But today is a good day, and I’ll take that any day.

a clean break

March 17, 2016

I haven’t heard from A since the break up phone call last Sunday. Nothing. The phone call went smoothly. A break up phone call should never be labeled “smooth”, right? He didn’t argue. He apologized and let me go.

It’s hard for me not to think that maybe he wanted me to do it. But I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I’m not sitting over here overthinking my decision. In fact, the very fact that I haven’t heard from him only solidifies my decision even more.

I’m not sad. I don’t miss him. I guess my heart knew it was coming. My head is running the show and I’m not experiencing any hiccup. Monday I was a little blue. But by Tuesday I was… normal.

In fact, I’m quite centered this week. I’ve had a few really good workouts. My eating has been quite under control. No binges. No mind consuming, urgent cravings that I have to satiate.

The weather has been amazing this week. I can’t wait to get my road bike out and hit the trail tomorrow! I think mitch is coming. 🙂

I feel good about me. All week I’ve quite enjoy what I look at in the mirror. It’s a weird consistent loving of myself that I haven’t experienced often in my lifetime. 4 days of positive self thought?! Unimaginable!

My workouts have been GREAT! I am back in the full swing of crossfit after being disengaged from it for a full year. I love lifting heavy weights and feeling confident with the barbell. I workout with a lot of newbies and while I’m not where I was when I quit, I’m still ahead of them. But only in confidence. I mean, do I have more on the bar than them? Yes. But it isn’t their strength in the way. They’ll get there! I got there. I really really enjoy coaching them in the gym. I know I’m not certified or whatever, but I can offer tiny ques that help A LOT. It’s awesome seeing that light bulb go off for some! I love that!

You know what’s funny? I’m not over thinking the fact that he hasn’t reached out. I’m over thinking the fact that I’m so dang happy this week! How long was I needing to end this?! When was when? I didn’t see it I guess. I know that I almost did it several weeks back, but I wonder when it stopped being fun and started hurting my confidence. I truly didn’t feel like he wanted me nor did he offer up any evidence that I was priority in his life. Gosh, that is awful! Even tho it would’ve been nice to feel fought for I like what a clean break perspective can offer.

mirror therapy

February 15, 2016

I have this big-ass mirror in my living room…. it’s just propped up on the biggest empty wall in my apartment. I knew that I wanted the mirror when I got my divorce, but turns out a small 1 bedroom apartment doesn’t accommodate such large items. But I couldn’t lose my ability to see my hair and shoes in the same frame – a girl needs these things. So it just sits there. As soon as I enter my apartment it greets me, sometimes before my dog does. I walk by it several times a day.

Some days this isn’t an easy thing to live with. But sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised by my reflection. I started to wonder if it was becoming detrimental to my self image recently. But one day I had a revelation…

I took off my clothes and sat right there in the middle of my living room in front of my big-ass mirror – as I affectionately call it.

At first I zoned in on my “problem areas”. Hate. hate. hate. I suck. I’m ugly. I can’t fix it. I’ve tried. Ain’t never gonna happen. My obsession is in my mid section. I have this huge inner tube that I swear is the first and only thing that anyone can possibly notice. If they somehow do get past that I’ve got this red birthmark on my right cheek. No, I am not over heated; no, I do not have Rosacea; no, (this one is my favorite) I did not get punched; and no, I am not effing blushing! Thank you!

I continued to sit. And look.

I don’t know how long it took, but I started to separate from the image in the mirror. I became a third party spectator. And you know what? Nothing was that bad. In fact, there were a lot of redeeming qualities there. I have great legs on anyone’s standards. Thick thighs… well, that doesn’t seem too un-sexy… I can totally see how they’d be preferable. That mid section…. it’s not THAT gigantic. It’s not… the only thing that exists in this image. And holy shit, I have great complexion. Every other inch of my face is porcelain-like… I mean… pale? Maybe – but not in a sick way. Could I use some sun? Always. But, the complexion is undeniably enviable.

I reached for my phone. I know, I know, In this day and age reaching for a camera is nothing special. But for me to even humor the idea of a naked picture?! And I don’t mean a pic you take to send to someone that asks or anything to do with sexuality in any form, but a pic just to admire yourself….? That’s different. Now, I’m not saying I took the pics, admired, saved, and shared. No, I didn’t even save them. I looked. I did admire. I liked what I saw. It wasn’t ugly. I didn’t stop at the terrible spots on my body and dwell. I simply looked and didn’t hate myself! I more than didn’t hate it. I was more than accepting of it. I liked it. It was a positive feeling. Not just neutral!

I wish I could say that I left that moment and I was cured of wherever I normally land on the body dysmorphic disorder spectrum… No, I left that moment and it didn’t take long for my insecurities to come rushing back. The self doubt, the self hate, the self dwelling on “bad” body parts. But…

Mirror Therapy. I’m making it a thing. I’m going to track the long term effects. I’m going to see if I can take those moments of clarity and see if I can’t transcend them to my every day ideas of myself for longer and longer periods of time.

released

October 28, 2015

Things with Andy are amazing. I can’t believe how much I feel for someone so quickly.

I spoke with Sir T about my struggles about keeping them both. It was becoming harder and harder to be intimate with Sir T because it felt like that part should be saved for only Andy. I know, this is my monogamous conditioning… but it’s how I feel… And no matter how right or wrong it is on anyone’s spectrum, I have to follow my own feelings and my own “right”.

We talked about this for about a week. Going over options. Educating me a bit more on the different types of love. Giving me tools to make up my own mind. No matter the outcome of the discussions it always came down to this: Andy IS monogamous. I can’t expect him to be okay with this for too much long. Also, my goal in life is a husband and kids. How will that work with my other *hobbies*?

I was feeling like this kink part of me was becoming a selfish part of me.

After several hours of conversation Sir T released me from his reign. He released me.

😦

There is so much more to it. It’s so hard to explain this huge bond I was developing with Sir T. It feels stronger than gravity. How do you defy gravity? What have I done here? He made cry with him. He is so good at knowing what is better for me. My own way would be to leave quickly, get in my car, and sob like a baby while I drive. My car… that’s my crying space. But he kept me there… holding me while I let it out. Making sure I knew he loved me and that I knew it was okay. That he still wants to be apart of my life. Soothing my fears of him hating me for not being able to be poly.

Over the next few days I couldn’t get over the urges to check in. While I was entirely relieved that I was only committed to one man, I felt a bit on the lost side. This is so crazy. I don’t understand how I can have such a strong bond with people in such a short time. It’s as if Sir T brainwashed me in the best way. But he didn’t realize that in doing so he was the one to open me up to Andy. He was the one that put me in a place to fully walk into this new amazing relationship.

About this brainwashing… For the first time in my life I feel pretty. I feel sexy. And I don’t feel fat. Let me say that again, because I promise you didn’t feel how big that is. I don’t feel fat! Consistently. As in… I look in the mirror and my body image is becoming less and less of an issue. How and when the hell did THIS happen??? I can’t get over what Sir T has given me. I will never get over it. I will always be in amazement over it. How did he know exactly how to get me to this place? He was so much more than some kinky partner. He was my life coach. He was my protector. He was who I sought for advice. I was so open with him. And he rewarded me for it.

I’ve spoken to him since the release… and he wants to get together to talk about possible options with us and possibly continuing our relationship with different boundaries set up. Boundaries that allow me to feel faithful to Andy and still have this part of me living… I have so much to think about.