Sexeteria

An interesting thing: one night last week, I said aloud to someone for the first time that I think I hate my body. And have been hating on my body for...oh, maybe at least 30 years. Acting like an made-for-Lifetime-TV-abuser to it.

Fact: I said it out loud, came home, and went to bed shortly after. I woke up in the morning and weighed myself and I had lost five pounds. Something about that felt related; like I'd gotten rid of a tiny bit of something, at least, that was--perhaps literally--weighing me down.

I wonder about that moment, when someone who's been abusive finally can step back enough to get a glimpse of what they are. To begin to accept the name of it, and own one's actions. Not just regret for one small incident, but the admission of a whole patterned tendency to be an mean, cruel, angry, bullying asshole. About what brings that perspective on. And about whether it's at all freeing to come to terms with it. If the knowledge can actually bring on change.

In any case, it doesn't feel cathartic, but it felt like just a tiny bit of release.

I wrote about this a few posts ago, but seriously, my behavior toward my body was--no IS--so stereotypically abusive. Not only is it angry, and manipulative, and physically cruel, but I told myself it wasn't hatred I was displaying, it was love. And I was different in public and in private. As a feminist, I knew it was bad form to admit to hating my body. So I said I didn't in public. I was nice to myself in public. But in secret, I whispered cruel, soul and confidence-destroying things to my body. I sectioned it into tiny, tiny bits, and then applied unseen torture to all of it. I mean all the things they do in torture, too--ignoring its humanity for long periods, playing good cop/bad cop with it, exposing it to cruel people who didn't respect it, force feeding it, preventing it from moving freely and easily...

I am not going to blame myself for this, as it was unconscious. And I think certain parts of it were brought on by post-traumatic stress from my sexual assault, and from some problematic views I was raised/forced to absorb. But the fact is it is there and I guess it's time to fully face up to the fact that I have been saying, "I hurt you because I love you" for a long time now.

And also face up to the shame and hate I've been associating with my body for a long time. Just get it all out. Maybe other things along with those five pounds will begin to be released as a result. This has worked for me before. Sometimes one has to face one's greatest fears for them to go away. Sometimes one has to admit to the parts one hates most about oneself--the things one hides in the dark--to stop being so fucking cruel. Sometimes you have to do what you think will bring you the world's worst hatred; because only through doing that can you realize that the world's worst hatred is A FUCKING BIRTHDAY CAKE compared to your own inner hatred.

So. After having had that conversation, all I've been able to think about is this--and this one scene from the film Lovely and Amazing. Unfortunately, I can't find a video clip of the scene online anywhere, but maybe you've seen it. In it, Emily Mortimer's character, an up-and-coming actress, stands in front of a guy she's just slept with (another better-known actor) and asks him to review her body honestly. And after only the tiniest amount of convincing, he does. He goes from top to bottom, and just lists everything that's possibly not perfect about her (and a few items that were nice). It's a riveting scene; neither character is displaying any emotion at all; they're acting like it's just casual, friendly conversation. But the whole situation is just charged with this subtle brutality, one that at least I recognize all around me, every day. And how unconsciously brutal he is being in his gently-voiced, casual assessment of every inch of her body, and how unconsciously brutal she is being in her desire for it, and her almost hungry acceptance and casual absorption of it. (Screen shots of the scene here--NSFW--to give you the mood.) This small picking apart of lack of perfection, until there is no wholesomeness of body anymore, but only an assemblage of parts and flaws and mediocrities and the all-important sanctioning or damning of it all by others.

It was her desire for the hatred I found most disturbing when I saw this film years ago. Maybe because I recognized it. Even as, when I was watching it, I remember thinking, Why would she ever do this to herself?

Why, indeed. That's something I clearly need to ask myself, but this time find some kind of answer.

So now, in the interest of getting it all out; of admitting everything, I'm going to make my list of body hatred. I'm not saying these things are true or untrue. I understand perception is a scary thing. I recognize that I notice these things with a microscopic intensity that no one else does, and that many no one would ever see or know about unless i pointed it out; and perhaps not even then in some cases. Yet, I have had a compulsive need to point those things out to myself, and a compulsive fear of disgusting anyone who recognizes their existence. So now I need to just say it out loud. I need to point the big spotlight on my pointing the big spotlight. Because I"m sick of hiding this small shit like it's something to be ashamed of. Like we don't all have human bodies. Like everyone else, despite their humanity, will be disgusted if I'm anything less than sculpted by angels with instruments made from light and air.

So I'll shut up now and tell you my list. I'll stand naked in front of you in the bedroom and say it all out loud. And you can see how I've made myself into some kind of monster in my eyes. And by doing so have been a monster to myself all these years.

Head to toe:

Hair: There are white hairs now; enough that they're noticeable. Hairline grows sideways so I can't get cute, shorn haircuts. I think my hair grows down too low in front of my ears. For a while I thought it was receding on my scalp; now I don't know why I thought that, doesn't look that way at all. But for the record.

Scalp: Lifelong struggle with dandruff and scaling. Flakes on my clothes, especially when seasons change.

Ears: Too waxy; I never think they're clean enough. Embarrassed to have someone stick their tongue in there. I think my earrings smell weird sometimes after i put them in. I wonder if there are bacteria in the holes.

Face: Forehead getting lines. Lines on my cheeks when I smile have come out this year. Pimples, especially along the jawline. Teeth aren't white enough; I think this makes me look old. Eyelashes not long enough. Upper lip not full enough. Mole above upper lip. Hairs around the mouth, especially the corners.
Neck: breaks out (extension of jawline)

Collarbone and shoulders: more pimples/boils

Back: More pimples/boils. Ugh, hideous. Itches a lot.

Arms: ghostly residue of eczema from when I was a kid

Hands: skin beginning to show signs of age. Scar on inner palm. Fingers not long enough.

Breasts: Sagging. Stretch marks. Hair growth around nipples. Hormonal fluctuation=nipples sometimes express discharge. Very big; making it hard to find nice bras or wear button-down shirts--and impossible to go topless in public. A focal point people sometimes fixate on; grosses me out and makes me uncomfortable/scared.

Torso overall: Too long: hard to find clothing that fits it well.

Ribcage: scar from skin biopsy

Stomach: fat, fat, fat. completely distended. horrible. Also, I think my navel smells wrong.

Pussy: Impossible to shave, wax, or depilitate without razor burn bumps. Labial acne breakouts. A bout of vulvar vestibulitis, and a bout of cervical dysplasia/HPV that thankfully both seem to be gone now, but that still weigh on my mind like bad, traumatic memory ghosts.

Ass: too wide, flat, and low.

Legs overall: Not long enough--torso is long, legs only average length, making them look too short; also not proportionate enough--thighs are notably bigger than shins

Thighs: Too fat. Stretch marks present on outer thighs. Inner thighs too soft; also stretch marks.

Knees: random bouts of weakness/pain if I'm exercising. Don't look straight enough to me; seem to slope in and down.

Shins: a couple of capillaries showing through here and there. Dark leg hair.

Feet: Size 10-11. Huge. Roll over my arches and can't wear shoes w/out arches. One foot turns in slightly when I walk.

Toes: Hair on big toes, and calluses. Currently infected nails on each from fucking pedicure place I will never go to again.

There. I keep feeling like I left something out, but that's probably enough name calling for you to get the picture, anyway. This is what I've been saying to myself behind closed doors. Usually followed by gut feelings of disgust, shame, and a desire to hide away from humans for the rest of my life.

Too bad I wasn't able to hide away from my own cruel self.

I'm going to keep comments open regardless of how tempted I am not to. And unlike when I wrote a similar litany kind of post way back when, I'm not going to try to control what people say to me if they do comment. However, I am especially interested in if/how anyone can relate, and what bodily areas in themselves they might have, before or now, picked apart or are ashamed to tell or show the world they have.

I'm not sure what hitting "publish" on this post will accomplish. But I felt strongly it had to be done.