As some of you may have read on my other blog, I’ve been going through a bit of a body image/self esteem crisis of late. I’ve been dealing with it in a number of ways – some good, some not so good and some definitely bad. For example, I’m seeing a therapist, doing private exotic dance classes and have a personal trainer so those would be good things. I’m also going to restart my horse riding classes which I was doing for awhile there but cancelled them all when I worked myself up into a ‘I don’t want to do anything/what’s the point?’ mind rage awhile ago.
On the not so good-bad side, I have been partying a lot – sometimes to great excess – and comfort eating. Both the best and worst thing to happen to me is the opening of our new cafe where I now have endless access to delicious custard filled pastries and I avail myself of one literally every day I’m there (which is pretty much every day). Then, a few weeks ago when I was feeling particularly shit, I drove well out of my way to find a McDonald’s drive through where I scarfed down a double cheeseburger, fries, soda and choc fudge sundae with fudge on the top and bottom. And I had no regrets. The thought, “who fucking cares?” actually went through my mind as I gorged myself in the parking lot. This thought goes through my mind quite a bit actually.
I know what I’m struggling with is not liking my outside or my inside. I know this. But sometimes I get fed up and doing unhealthy things to excess seems to be the way I handle it. “Oh well, can’t control it,” my brain seems to think. “May as well push it to the fucking limit. What’s the worst that could happen?”
One of the perhaps in between (or good – I certainly don’t see it as bad) things that I’ve been fixating on is tattoos. For quite a while now, I’ve had a list of tattoos I want to get but, while I know what I want, I don’t know where I want it to go (a major part of any tattoo decision, really). Anyway, these decisions have been coming to me lately – I suppose as a means of exerting control over my body or trying to convince myself to like my outside more or maybe just to cover it up. I’m sure my therapist would have some thoughts on the topic.
Anyway, I already have nine tattoos across my wrists, back of my neck, shoulders, back of my thigh and a decent chunk of my back. Last week, I got a little red crown on my left shoulderblade. Only a small, fine lined one – nothing like some of the larger pieces I’ve gotten. But on Friday, I’m going to meet with another artist about my first really visible piece – a geometric half-sleeve. I have all my inspiration pics and I’d already scoped this dude out for another piece and I like his style so it’s not like this is something I’ve never considered before but it definitely feels like an accelerated process right now. After this one, I already have another text based one I want done and eventually a chest piece (still working myself up to that one). Some might say my creative juices are just flowing a bit more now – but others might think otherwise. Who knows? Either way, it’s happening.
As I mentioned earlier, I’ve been doing private stripping classes. Some of you may not know this but I used to strip when I was in my teens and early 20s and lately I’ve been missing it very much. It was honestly the time I felt the most beautiful, powerful, sexy and in control of myself in my whole life. I’d been toying with the idea of getting myself into shape (more or less) and going back and doing a shift or two. Not for the money, just for the experience. Just to feel better about myself, to feel desirable. Yes, I know I shouldn’t be looking for this externally but until I can find it within myself then I felt like this could be a short term solution.
So I started planning my outfits. I bought new stripper shoes. My therapist (both of them at the time) were very keen on this idea but, when I floated it with Jared, him not so much. I can’t say I wasn’t devastated for awhile there but I’ve resigned myself to doing the private classes instead. I feel more uncoordinated than sexy dancing to someone else’s choreography with someone that’s a much better dancer (at least to their own choice of music) but it’s something at least. We’ve been dancing to this hip hop song I don’t particularly like but she posted a video of something else much more sexy and slow the other day so I might broach the subject of doing some more kind of freestyle-y, sexy stuff – just shorter routines, we can learn quickly in each 1hr session. I feel like that might make me feel more sexy. I don’t know.
And, just when you thought I couldn’t get more fucked up, despite my complete and utter loathing for my body, I have stepped up my level of exhibitionist dressing to sometimes extreme levels. Corsets, harnesses, lingerie as outerwear, sheer bodysuits in fine dining restaurants, for someone that doesn’t like themselves physically, I do a good job of making it look otherwise. My desire for new lingerie knows no bounds (even though I only wear it out in public – for show) and I’m now obsessed with wearing stripper shoes in public. Ever the provocateur I am, except now it’s all front and no substance beneath. I no longer believe my own hype.
What can I say? These are complicated times for me.