Mirror, Mirror...
A recent conversation with Miss Evelyn Jo gave me a lot to think about about my perception of self and my reaction to the way folks perceive me. The truth is that with a body type such as mine (42k cup size, for the curious) that is accompanied with 'such a pretty face', objectification has been the norm since.. well.. I can remember. I blame the insane early blossoming (I was six when I got my first trainer bra) as well as my upbringing as part of the reason why I cannot see me for me.
For the uninitiated in this part of my journey, I cannot see myself the way others do. When I look in the mirror, I don't really see the thick, curvy red-head that gets compliments left and right. In fact, I don't get it. I see a pair of brown, lack luster eyes that usually have a sorrowful expression to them. A pair of lips that are often chapped since I dislike the flavor of water and am addicted to coffee. I see a thick beard and furry brows that I tweeze, shave and epilate with the clock work and reliability of the moon. I focus on my frail, yellow, crooked teeth. I can't see past the way my jaw tilts to the right a little too much and requires surgery for correction. I am unable to see past the rolls of fat on my belly, or the stretch marks that cover the surface of my flesh or the scars that mar my body. Most days, I really hate all those imperfections and that's all I can ever see.
Really, the only part of me that I am actually fond of is my hair.
This is part of the reason why, now as a 32 year old adult, I have a hard time understanding my own level of attractiveness. Nine times out of ten, I don't realize I am getting 'hit on'. Compliments go over my head without so much as stirring a single strand of hair. The more genuine the compliment, the more confusing it is.
Oh, but the more overt commentary? You know, the downright crass and sexually abusive incidents? I never know how I'll react.
Sometimes I ignore the comments. Sometimes the sass in me takes over. At times its anger and every now and then I out-do myself and join them in ways nobody --not even myself -- could expect. Like, say, the time I got fed up with being polite and rude to a certain 'leading man' to the point I just grabbed his hand, put it on my breast and made him squeeze with the comment "See, they're fucking real!" in a loud voice.
He then asked for my number and I acquiesced. I knew I was nothing more than another score in his ego card, but the joke is on him. I knew he wasn't going to call after I embarrassed him in front of the whole troupe -- nay, the whole restaurant -- with my actions.
But that's the thing. I should not have to worry about how my tank top will affect the population (Good god, I get comments about how I'm distracting. From BOTH men and women!) but I do.
I should never, ever, have to feel like if I "can't beat them, join them" and just pose for some douchebag at a restaurant because I got tired of being ogled then motion for him to just take a fucking picture.
But I have.
I can't help but look back at the conversation with Evelyn I had a few weeks back in which she expressed her frustration with the unsolicited dick pictures she gets in her inbox.
I also should not have a folder of humorous dick pictures saved on my phone or computer just so I can respond to an unsolicited penis picture with one of my own. But, I totally do -- and I get a kick out of sending them in retaliation until the man in question stops.
But I do.
No woman should ever have to go to the lengths that they have to get someone to stop their douchey behavior on social media like play Sleuth and contact the man's wives, sisters or mothers, but its been done.
I should not be so insecure and so incredulous of what I look like that when someone genuinely tells me that I look pretty that day that I cry.
But it happens.
And the most frustrating part of it all is that this behavior is not just restricted to men. I have been made to feel awkward, inferior or somehow shamed for having the body I do by other women.
That is the sad truth of it... misogyny is not caused by men. It is a warped view of society as a whole. It is a belief system instilled in childhood-- everytime my mother made me go change because my shorts were too short (apparently, shorts higher than an inch above the knee were slutty) or she snapped my bra strap because it poked from beneath the thick straps of a tank top (I could never wear thin strapped tank tops because showing my straps made me a whore)... every time a woman rolled her eyes because a little bit of skin showed from when I raised my hands above my head, I learned that I was to blame for a man's low impulse control. This was further reinforced whenever a man's gaze lingered on my body too long.
Men can't help themselves. Women have to police our own bodies.
How. Messed. Up. Is. That?
So. No. I will not wear two layers of clothing just to make sure that no man ever sees a glimpse of my fat roll if I reach for a box of tampons from the top shelf. No, I refuse wear pants just so that you don't have to deal with my cottage cheese thighs (yes, this is another topic for another day). No, I will not sit in a pool of my own sweat and discomfort to make it easy on *you*.
You want to stare at my amazing and glorious rack (I admit I do have a nice cleavage. One of those few features I kind of admire of myself), go for it. I know its going to happen regardless if I wear a tank top, a dress or a turtle neck. You want to look away form my fat roll because I disgust you? That is fine too... but I'm learning that the feeling of shame is something that *I* am in control over.
And this body of mine is the only one I have, so fuck you, I will not allow you to make me feel intimidated or degraded because of your view of me. I do it to myself enough already.
With that in mind, take a look at the following trailer and join Dames for Dreams in a special viewing of this documentary on September 19th at 7:30 pm. Make your reservations today. You will not be charged until the minimum amount of tickets is reached.
Price: $11
Everett Stadium 16 & Rpx
1402 Everett Mall Way #133
Everett, WA
