I was naked on a bed of Himalayan salt rocks. Well, there was a towel between me and the rocks but, basically, you should be picturing me nude…in the Himalayan salt sauna of the Korean spa where I’d impulsively decided to spend my Monday morning. Shortly after getting into the sauna, I was joined by another woman. She too wanted to lay on the warm rocks. She was clothed with shorts and a sports bra. I asked her if she was alright with me being naked in there. I don’t know why I asked. We were in the women-only section of the spa so I assumed it was kosher, but I could tell she was a bit taken aback by my nudity. Initially, her startled gaze had me worrying that I was breaking some sort of rule, but she responded that she was fine with it, so I continued to bask in the artificial heat like a gecko.
This woman was taller than me, but we had a similar build. Her body was a bit slimmer than mine, especially in the tummy region. After a few moments of silence she started asking me questions. She wanted to know how long it took me to get comfortable being naked at the spa? It was at this point things started making more sense. Her look of hesitation just moments ago wasn’t about my possible rule-breaking, but more about my general nakedness. It was her first time at a Korean spa and she confessed to me that she isn’t comfortable exposing her body at all. Even at the beach, she said, she wears a long cover around her bathing suit.
I appreciated her candor, but in answering her question, I didn’t sugarcoat anything. I told her plainly that being naked at the Korean spa has never been uncomfortable for me. I could tell that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. So, then the sugarcoating started and I elaborated.
I told her about how I used to be incredibly self-conscious, many years ago. How in my early twenties I couldn’t bring myself to even wear shorts in public. How I only wore loose t-shirts so I could hide my belly. How my size was constantly something I stressed over, and the beautiful irony of how I’m actually fatter now than I was then. I went on to tell her about how I dance in a strip show for fat women that I created. She looked stunned to hear it.
I ultimately encouraged her by saying that it takes time to become comfortable in one’s own flesh, but probably not as much time as she thinks. Each step toward body liberation feels monumental at first, but the more steps taken, the more that monumental feeling diminishes into feeling like normalcy. It will simply become your day-to-day. Crop tops will feel more comfortable. Spaghetti straps, short shorts, skirts, you name it. You’ll go from feeling like everyone is staring in disgust at your back rolls, cellulite, stretch marks, etc. to realizing that most people don’t really care, and well, shit, even if they do care, why should I?
Our conversation ended with her telling me I was her “nudity idol” and then she gifted me a face mask to use in the sauna. After this talk, I felt invigorated. Validated, even. Only a few weeks before that exchange, I had a conversation with someone who didn’t understand why I post half-naked photos of myself online. She said, matter-of-factly, that I do it for men. To attract them. I mean, sure, I say that as an aside in one of my stand-up bits, but it’s…a joke. I didn’t think she actually believed that to be my sole purpose for putting my body on display, but I guess she did.
Let’s be real, I don’t have the kind of body that is traditionally used to attract men by the puppet masters of capitalism. Of course, there are men who find me attractive and I am too aware that my photos are arousing to those guys (I even make money off it occasionally), but in the bigger context of society at large, my body is still considered unattractive. I know and accept that reality but continue to be a well-photographed slut because I want to be. I take, and shamelessly post, slutty photos of my body because I didn’t get to be a slut when I hated myself. I didn’t get to enjoy being in my body when I let others deny me that pleasure. I take revealing photos of myself because I know other people will benefit from seeing me in that state. It’s important for people like me to sexualize ourselves in ways previously reserved only for thin people. And yeah, part of my motivation is also because I genuinely enjoy arousing the few, the proud, the Stevensimps. What red-blooded human doesn’t want to be worshiped, even a little bit, now and again? Tell me, is that a damn crime?!
So within the same month, these two contrasting incidents happened. In one I am a body-positive beacon of hope. In another, I am just another needy “hot” girl seeking male approval. In thinking about these two very different conversations, I couldn’t help but wonder what others think. How many of the people who know me view me as something I don’t intend to portray? How many of them get the wrong impression of who I am and why I do what I do? Not just in the context of being a fat slut, but in all other facets of my life as well? I probably don’t really want to know the answer to that. The numbers are not going to be in my favor.
I see glimpses of such disconnect all the time. Like when I post a caption or tweet that, to me, is obviously a joke but is then taken too seriously by people who comment completely unnecessary things telling me to cheer up or hang in there or whatever. Or like when I say I’m fat and people think that’s me being self-deprecating as opposed to simply stating a fact. Or like when I write something heartfelt and vulnerable about myself only for a horny man to comment that this kind of shit isn’t what he followed me for. The list goes on.
How others perceive us can often destroy our own notions of self-identity. Self-doubt is everpresent within us all, to a degree. I mean, it’s not my intention to speak for you buttttt I’d like to think I’m not the only one who doubts herself from time to time. The judgmental perception of others can obviously fan those flames of self-questioning and inadequacy. When this happens, I’ll sometimes feel regret or even embarrassment at the disconnect. As if I really must have fucked something up to be perceived so incorrectly. Funnily enough, the more I show the world my authentic self, the more it feels like people get…confused. I suppose that’s because the reality of who we are cannot be defined by just a few keywords, or captured in a few carefully curated photos, and yet so many of us try to do just that.
Everything about us is malleable. Even the most stubborn of people have to own up to this part of themselves. We change and transform with each passing day and these changes can often be contradictory. One day I’m a confident fat slut, loving the attention I get for being so confident and…slutty. The next day, I want people to forget that part of me even exists and instead embrace me for being a self-deprecating comedian. After that, I’m a body-positive advocate wanting people to understand me on this more motivational level. I can see how it might be easier to assemble a distinct, fixed personality to show the world in order to maintain control over people’s perceptions. There is less confusion and less room for interpretation when people are one-way and unwavering. There is power in being a monolith, but is it really power if you’re holding yourself back out of fear of being misconstrued? Is it really power if you’re afraid to show the many facets that make up who you really are?
It seems to me that truly knowing and liking who you are comes with the knowledge that not everyone else will like you back. Even those that do might not always like you for the reasons you think they do. Accepting this inability to please the masses is the ultimate indicator of self-actualization. What I am trying to do (but have yet to fully accomplish), is stay firmly myself -- in all my shades and complexities. No more being up at 3AM and deleting a photo from my timeline that I fear looks too slutty. No more showing a more vulnerable side of myself through my writing then sitting with regret for the rest of the day wondering if my irony-pilled comedian peers are making fun of me behind my back. None of these anxieties around public perception are helpful or serve me in any way other than give me more intrusive thoughts at night. Like I need any more to add to the list.
A transformative lesson for me was this: the acknowledgment that how others view me (and you, while we’re at it) is through the lens of their own biases and lived experiences. The way people ultimately feel about us is largely shaped by how they feel about themselves. For better or worse. And you know what? I do this shit more than I’d like to admit, but for the sake of being truly vulnerable, I will admit. If I’m a little jealous of someone for what I perceive to be their better and more accomplished life, more and more of their presence comes off as disingenuous and self-serving. Sometimes, I’m right. Other times, I’m just being a pure hater wanting to feel negative toward someone who reminds me of my own shortcomings. Conversely, there are times I’ll get a read off people that they don’t like me or don’t think I’m fun or funny or whatever, and I’ll tell myself this is how they feel without having any real evidence to back it up other than my “gut”. In these instances, my “gut” is really my social anxiety cosplaying as intuition. I tend to trust my gut more often than not (there’s plenty of it to trust), but I must also be aware of when my intuition is clouded by my overthinking, self-destructive brain.
I write all this knowing I’m a work in progress, and that I always will be in some way, shape, or form. I write this knowing that I’ve vastly improved as I’ve gotten older (and into therapy) and have already defeated a lot of battles in this arena. So yeah, I’m a nudity idol and vapid slut. I’m an earnest blogger and stupid comedian. Even now, calling myself stupid, do you think I mean that in an insulting way? Because I meant it in the best way possible; as a compliment to myself, really. You take it however you want, though. I (mostly) don’t care.
Really related to this. Very well-written.
Thank you for sharing this.