Bodies, knives, and thicc thighs.

(Now this is all about how I feel internally about my own appearance, I'm not fishing for sympathy here. It just is. Everyone has their own body issues and everyone is gorgeous in their own right. Last thing I want to hear is, "you don't need surgery cause you're great the way you are" cause I know these things, but it doesn't change how I feel. And, frankly it's annoying. It is what it is, and the world still goes round.)

As I sit here in my favourite café eating a bowl of French fries, I contemplate my body image journey. It’s been quite an interesting, last few months on this topic; I went from absolutely hating my body to being, not okay with it but I guess more indifferent(?). Which is a major leap. And it’s all thanks to sex work. I was so scared when I first started that my body wasn’t good enough. I looked at escort agency sites and saw bodies that were not like my own. All of them are gorgeous, gorgeous girls. And I have never viewed myself that way. In fact, I’ve always felt wrong in my body, but I couldn’t tell you what that right felt like either. I’ve always been on the overweight side; thanks to heavy depression I never could care about myself long enough to stay consistent on any exercise plan. There was one time when I was around 24 where I did end up loosing about 20 kgs, and I stood at 67kgs at my lightest. And I felt horrible. Now, looking back, I was doing everything very dangerously. Like not eating when I gained half a kg, I got extremely obsessive with the scale, and over exercising. This I learnt afterwards is quite common for a first big weight loss. And well, I gained it all back and then some not long after. And suddenly I found myself standing at 99.8kgs a few years later.

Now, I am a solid person. And I’m happy about that now days. There is some sort of mental thing I did not like when I was 67kgs, I felt like a twig that could break at any moment. Having talked about this with a friend, I think it stems from a hate towards feeling fragile, in a mental sense. I was also a twig with no muscles, and I’m wondering if I end up getting to that low weight again but doing bodybuilding, if I’d still feel the same. My most comfortable weight bracket is 72-75kgs. Which I’m really not far off from. It’s a weird mind game of, if I’m too heavy I hate how I look and if I’m too light I hate how I feel. So, hopefully if I meet in the middle with BB Wellness division, I’ll be light but strong looking. And my mind better be happy with that! Or, I’m going to throw it in the dumpster with gusto.

There are also a few parts of my body I particularly honed in on with all the rage in the world. The day my tits grew, I was offended. I wanted these things gone. How dare they. Looking back now I accept the fact I honed in on them because my life around me was not the happiest. So, when you get something you’re uncomfortable with suddenly pop up. Then get unwanted attention because of it. The pits of hell themselves would be a kinder place than the things your mind tells you. I hated my tits. My search history as a teen was full of, “breast reduction”, “double mastectomy”, “top surgery”. I hid in oversized clothing, thick hoodies even during the peak of summer. Now, I feel like my relationship with them has calmed down. I still want surgery but I’d just want a breast lift these days. I’m still uncomfortable with them, but also, people love them. No one’s ever said anything bad about them, other than me to myself. I mean I hate the way they look, when you’re H cup, they’re bloody heavy and this thing called gravity. So, a lift would make me feel more confident. But that’s a lot of money. So, for now, I’ll just stick to indifference.

Now, there’s another part of me I’m very uncomfortable with in appearance. I also feel like this doesn’t get talked about nearly as much as breasts do, because it is a sensitive one. I can trace two major things in my life that has given me this insecurity. One is Porn. And the other, is a comment made by the class bully when I was 15, and it wasn’t even directed at me. So, how do I even write this. It’s hard to even write it openly. I hate the appearance of my vagina, particularly the labia minora. And it’ll be the first thing that gets changed when I have deposable income. Again, no one has ever said anything to me directly about it but it is such a deeply rooted insecurity, that I just want it “fixed”. I’ve tried coming to terms with it but unfortunately, I think it’s to deep in my head now. When I started sneakily watching porn as a young teen, I became very aware of how mine looked different. I didn’t realise at that age, most of the women might have had surgery themselves or were chosen to be “picture perfect” for the camera, but hot damn. Did it weed its way into my brain. None of the actresses had any lips (2000’s era). Excuse my language here, but they were all just this perfect slit with a perfect hole And, well mine, let’s just say “it has personality”. Second, was the comment by the idiot at high school, and for some reason it just struck me in the soul and never left. All he said one day was, “Ew, she had a cabbage pussy”. I don’t even know who he was talking about, what it really meant, or who he was talking to, but my ears heard it and that was that. It’s such a dumb, stupid little thing. But had it been Mortal Combat, it was a one hit K.O, and I’ve never forgotten it.

Though I want to circle back to bodybuilding. I grew up Playboy and Victoria secret era. Where the petite, blond bombshell, Paris Hilton types, were all the rage. Now, I’ve made my peace with the ugly side of myself that was driven by insecurity to absolutely hate these women on site. The media machine really won there for a while in me. And, sometimes I still catch envy sneaking up on me to this day. As a stocky, curvy, gothy, chubby teen; I wasn’t it chief. And woe is me, the world “hated” me and it was everyone else’s fault I was fat. Ah, growing up as a teen while loosing your Pa to cancer, at 13… It complicates things. Adds a nice layer of confusion and rage to the already bumpy ride that is teenage life. Anyway. I don’t remember exactly when I saw my first muscle girl, but I was mesmerized by how strong she looked. It was the complete opposite to what media beauty standards were saying. I have an inkling, I was drawn to strength because suddenly fatherless, I adopted this strange need to be more masculine in order to protect Ma. Even though I couldn’t do fuck all, and was a child. Ma didn’t need protecting, at least not by me. I rejected anything feminine at that stage because it was “weak”. And hence the whole mental fuckery about feeling “fragile”. Sigh.

I quickly found out that saying you wanted to be muscular got the comment of “gross” or “they look like men”(Which now I just eye roll at so hard). Actually, very recently I showed an ex-colleague of mine at work the BB Wellness division because I started to become open about wanting to do it. And I got an extremely visceral reaction of “that’s disgusting” followed by a few more words in the same direction. Which I actually found super interesting cause he’s as gay as a unicorn vomiting rainbow glitter. So why did he care so viscerally of what a woman looked like? Did the media machine run that deep? Luckily, I don’t care anymore, I want it for myself. And everyone so far has been pretty supportive about it. Now, for me personally, once you go past Wellness division into the said the physique categories; I truly admire the dedication and the effort it takes because goddamn, it’s no joke to get to that point. But I personally do not want that for myself. Wellness, is where it’s at for me. That is the ultimate sexy. Where strength and feminine curves meet in the middle and high five each other. Cause have you seen them? Oh my word I need to fan myself. Those thick legs, that amazing giant tush, those dream shoulders, and not to mention the sexy back! Ugh! I need a doctor cause I’m about to faint. I like big butts and I cannot lie. And like I said earlier, I have a feeling it will be my closest shot at that happy median for my mind to be at peace with my body.

I realise now of course, everyone is different, duh, and the whole thing has been fought against by wonderful people pointing these things out. One art project I remember seeing quickly on TV was a person making moulds of people’s vaginas, to combat the growing insecurity about vaginas re: media, and show that there is such a vast diversity in shapes and sizes. I have nothing against porn, but I hope there’ll be some more diversity in appearances in the future of mainstream porn (the stuff you see as a teen sneaking on to the "dark web"). I think with the rise of Only fans and private content creators etc, this has really helped, we’re seeing all kinds of bodies which is fantastic. And of course, people like all sorts of different things. People like my body. Even though I’m not happy with it. I need to come to terms with that, that people like it. I need to stop projecting my own insecurity on to others. And sex work, has really helped. I know one day there’ll be someone that will say something negative, but I think I’m in a space now that I won’t be rattled by it. Too much. Also, I’m as stubborn as an ass, so I’ll probably just flaunt it out of pure spite to said fuck you to that person. And I’m also gyming 5-6 times a week with 4 PT sessions currently. So, I’ll just literally ass bump them out of the room with my future giant tush and go about my day.