Pretty Hurts
How I learned to stop worrying & love my body
Like every good American girl — like maybe every girl — I grew up hating my body.
Culture dictated that I should have a large chest and a small ass. Genetics had failed me. Fundamentalist Christianity told me not to be attractive. I couldn’t even play up my assets, lest the church judge me for being too sexy. My entire world was judging my body 24/7. I found ways to express myself through high school but cutting my hair very short and wearing boy’s clothing. Large t-shirts made me feel better about my chest and good Christian girls had to wear long shorts anyway. It didn’t matter how I actually felt about my body. It was never going to make me feel good and there wasn’t much I could do about it.
I went to college across the country, in upstate NY. My west coast hair and masculine style of dress marked me as a lesbian. I desperately wanted to break out of the fundamentalist restrictions, but I couldn’t get a date. My sophomore year, my roommate (and now one of my best friends) dressed me up as a Catholic School Girl for Halloween. I wore the shortest skirt I had ever seen in my life, a lacy padded bra, and a mostly unbuttoned shirt. That was my first experience wearing something that made me feel sexy. It was also my first experience dressing up as a fetish (something I still very much enjoy). I had another friend my sophomore year, a well-dressed New York Italian, who took me clothing shopping a few times. This did improve the way I felt about myself, but only marginally.
After college, I moved out with friends. We lived together for a year and a half. I realized that it was socially acceptable for me to be sexy. I also picked up smoking. I was 23 years old the first time someone told me that I had a “nice ass.” That was earth-shattering. I learned that curvy was more attractive than skinny, and that I could accomplish this with a padded bra. I learned that flowing hair was sexier than short hair so I grew it out. I learned that it was very important not to be fat — cue diet and exercise fads that didn’t work. I was always worried about exercising too much, because the muscles I developed in college were part of the reason guys didn’t want sleep with me.
I went through several bad relationships that reinforced what I had learned about being attractive. I was told that I had cute boobs, but did you see that chick at the end of the bar? I was told that if I cut my hair, I wouldn’t be pretty anymore. I was told not to be fat or too skinny or too muscular. There were several iterations of this, culminating in an engagement to an alcoholic. I finally quit smoking to spite him. After three years, I finally left him. Then everything got better.
I bought my first non-padded bra in at least 6 years in June. It turns out my chest isn’t as small as I thought it was. I joined CrossFit in July and found power I didn’t know I had. I stopped wearing so much makeup. Today, I cut all my hair off. I had over 10″ and I’ll be donating it. It was the ultimate liberation. The men in my life don’t associate my worth with my hair length. I don’t care if people are ignorant enough to think a hairstyle dictates my sexuality. Most importantly — I don’t maintain my body for anyone else’s approval or enjoyment.
I lift heavy shit and now I have a rockin’ hairstyle. I love the way I look. I do it for me and no one else. Being “attractive” or “sexy” is not the ultimate goal. Being happy in my skin is.
Previously published on www.thepolyamorist.com.
