Saturday, 27 June 2015

Body image, self loathing and a form of redemption...

I've always disliked my body.  Not that I'm hung-up about it, but I'm very reluctant to 'expose' myself in any way, silently fearing I am being sniggered at for any number of transgressions against whatever normal might be.  I was painfully thin as a youngster, to the point I was often referred to (by my own family), as a "Belsen horror", and to this day get jibes about my skinny legs and pale(ish) complexion.  I'm 6' tall and weigh 165lbs, slip into a 32" levi or a 42" jacket, so it's not like I'm a stick man, but still (and always), some form of self-consciousness.  Rare compliments I might receive are dismissed, and I didn't actually own a pair of shorts or a t-shirt until I moved to the Sandlands in my late 30's, preferring to wear jeans and baggy shirts in all weather.  Watching porn doesn't help matters either...

But.  The point of this is not to complain or self-analyze.  It's to tell you I was in bed with the Engineer the other night, and I instinctively went to cover my legs after we were done.  He stopped me mid-track and stroked my thighs, telling me how much he liked them.  I laughed and said "too thin", and resumed covering, but he was insistent.  "Not thin, slim.  And so long, so pale.  Like a model".

To receive a genuine compliment, after a lifetime of having my body adversely commented on?  Wow.

1 comment:

  1. Funny how from reflex, we discourage compliments and deflect then with reasons how they're wrong. So when a guy insists, know that he really, really digs you...

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