It was during a visit with my mother that Master Cecil, the Dom who topped me in my first rope scene, challenged me with “pics or it didn’t happen!” The bruises from our scene were just beginning to turn a beautiful shade of bluish-purple, and my ass and thighs looked like a twisted version of connect-the-dots. Being the good girl that I am, not to mention a proud masochist, I waited until my mama took a trip to the farm stand then I locked myself in her bedroom to take some photos with my phone. I felt giddy and scandalous to be in mama’s bedroom. Twelve blurry photos later (I fell over several times in various contortions) I posted three of the best results. Naturally I was tweeting the entire process in its hilarity, because who else am I going to share my ridiculousness with but a thousand of my dear internet friends.
The following morning as I peeled peaches with mama for peach cobbler, she asked, “why on earth would you take photos of your bum?” For several moments all I could do was stare at her, dumbfounded. Turns out that mama had been stalking my Twitter timeline after I had gone to bed. I carefully sliced through a peach and tried to formulate a coherent response through my brain paralysis. I replied that Master Cecil wanted to see his handiwork. While that was true, the unspoken part was that I enjoyed showing off the results. After years of disliking my body, I’m finally finding it beautiful.
A year and a half ago, I refused to have my picture taken. I was ashamed of my weight and felt completely undesirable. When my ex-Dom asked for a picture of me, an innocuous headshot, I had a panic attack. My self-esteem had been slowly pulverized through the course of my marriage to the point where I thought any sane man would take one look at me and keep walking. I felt lumpy, bumpy and forgettable. I sent the photo and held my breath. When he told me that I was gorgeous and sexy and demanded more pics, I thought that maybe I was being too harsh. Maybe.
Early on in my marriage when my ex-husband expressed that he found me unattractive, I lost forty pounds and was surviving on cucumbers and yogurt. I was miserable, and he didn’t suddenly find me desirable because there was less of me. Fitting into that size 8 didn’t miraculously improve my life or solve my problems. I now wish that I had been kinder to myself instead of obsessing about a flatter stomach. I needed to address the issues at the “unattractive” core of the conflict between us, and my ex needed to be married to someone else.
The truth of the matter is that I’m still working at shedding the last of my baby weight. I have stretch marks on my lower abdomen and cellulite on the back of my thighs. My breasts aren’t perky either, and sometimes I still cringe at a photo that catches me in an unflattering angle. However, when I finally accepted that I was kinky, I also began accepting my body. Having lovers tell me they desired me helped a lot, but even more importantly, becoming whole in my sexuality cemented the fractured relationship I had with my body. I know who I am, and I accept who I am. That confidence is more attractive than thousands of dollars of plastic surgery. And I won every ounce of it through emotional work and life experience. Therapy helped too.
When I look at my body I still see the flaws, but I also see the beauty of its strength. I fell in love the curve of my waist where it dips down to my hips, and my full ass is perfect for spanking and caning and all sorts of things. My pale skin shows every mark, and my height gives a Dom a lot of canvas to work with. I tweeted once, “I bake. I sew. I’ll fuck your brains out.” Yes, my body enables me to do it all very well. And so much more.
I adore your raw honesty darling, about your body, your feelings, your antics. Such an inspiration. Clamidia xx
*squishes you*
*squishes you back* You’re the best. xo
Clamidia – I’m so thrilled that you like it. Hugs!
I always believe my lovers’ tastes and opinions (but only when they’re positive). I can’t always believe it myself, so I rely on them and their responses to me. It’s done wonders.
When it’s positive feedback, I agree, it can work wonders. That’s part of why we love them, right?
Thanks for your comment!
Beautiful words. Beautiful woman.
I love that you’ve found a way to embrace the whole you: body, kinks, and all. xox
Anna – I thought of you when I was writing it. You’re my hero in the body acceptance/beauty department. Thank *you* for always inspiring me. xoxo
Oh Heather, I can assure it’s a virtuous circle – I do believe I could fall in love with you xoxo
It is entirely mutual, beautiful Anna. xoxo