Halloween is next Monday. I’m not sure I can post on Sunday, not with so many memories of why the time around Halloween scares so much flowing through my mind right now.
The holiday itself is not the problem. The events and experiences that happened on and around Halloween are.
Instead, I’m writing early. And I’m sharing something that scares me in ways that I have a hard time describing. Like the title says, I’m talking about my physical body and the changes it is going through right now as the internal damage heals.
If this is too triggering, please stop reading. If not, continue.
For most of my childhood, everyone labeled me beautiful. I didn’t do anything to earn the title; my physical beauty came from the genetic lottery. But that separated me from a lot of people and peers. And the beauty attracted monsters – aka pedophiles and other predators – into my world.
I learned how to be sexy before even knowing the word because that is what the people who paid for me wanted. The cult, my pediatrician, my father, the people who paid the cult money to join in on their rites or to satisfy their urges taught me to be a chameleon with torture, physical abuse, emotional abuse, and verbal abuse. The sexual abuse came as secret games and mystery solving fun; each experience taught me how to please other people.
Problem is I fought back. Often. The drugs and alcohol they gave me to keep me docile didn’t work. A sick child is not attractive to customers. A limp, ragdoll is not any fun for the monsters who like their partners to fight back. So I got hurt a lot. The monsters focused their attention on my spine. If my lower back and but hurt too much, I couldn’t kick at them or buck people off of me. If my upper middle back hurt too much, I couldn’t use my upper body strength to pull up or chin up or flip out of unnatural hanging positions. If my neck hurt, so did my head and shoulders.
Then I hit puberty. And the focus changed. Stop the puberty. Turn her back into looking like a little girl. Or find new customers. Or both. Fairly easy to do since I was anorexic and underweight already. The medicine my doctor kept giving me caused me to sneeze uncontrollably; mucus everywhere. Wet tissues. Red eyes. No one in school or outside of school wanted to be near the girl who always had stuff coming out of her nose.
But that never happened with clients around. How that happened, I still haven’t figure out.
Fast forward about 10 years, and I’m out of college. My body is turning against itself from all of the years of neglect. But chiropractic is helping. And eating food is helping me gain weight. The confusing part? Why am I so bloated, especially around my abdomen. Why is there a small, but significant U-shaped mound of water that looks like a belly just under my belly button when everything else is flat? How come I have odd bulges of skin under my arms and around my back/rib cage area?
Wrong bra size for one thing. And my parents kept telling me I was getting fat from not exercising as much. But those years I started eating again and building up my mass triggered puberty again. And the birth control pills/shots to regulate my menstrual cycle probably contributed to the bloating that only disappeared when I lost significant weight. I’m what people call a late bloomer. My body didn’t change significantly until college; and didn’t stop until a couple years ago.
Nutrition therapy helped me understand that the bloating was a protective bubble my body put around the damaged internal organs to help them heal while still doing their job. Eventually, most of the bloating went away. And I started to see my real body emerge. The bloating still distorted some areas, but never again would I ever be called straight or flat. And learning to accept these changes became my next big challenge.
Two years ago, I had enough of hiding. Enough hating my body and my curves. Enough of hurting myself by wearing clothes that caused pain too. I joined a style program. Through the program, I learned how to find clothes and undergarments that fit properly. Imagine my surprise when I realized that the first gynecologist I was right about my body. She told me that my parents lied to me; that anyone who told me I had small breasts and narrow hips and thunder thighs lied. The style group helped me confirm this.
I found a Reddit dedicated to helping people find “A Bra That Fits”. All you have to do to find this is type the following phrase into an Internet search engine: Reddit a bra that fits. That takes you to the page and gives instructions to find approximately the correct bra size. I took it a few times. Before then, I thought the smallest band size available was 30. And there was no such thing as a cup size bigger than DDD.
But there are band sizes smaller than 30 and cup sizes bigger than DDD. I’m living proof of that. And as my body heals from damage through Traditional Chinese Medicine treatments (acupuncture and massage), the connective tissue along my spine loosens up. My body starts to balance out. The pain gets more intense. I can actually feel my back (something that didn’t happen before). And the mysterious swelling around my hips and back is starting to go away. My waist is reappearing. My legs are moving back into the correct position.
And the breast tissue that got pushed to my back and belly and other places from wearing bras with too big bands and too small cups is moving back to the front of my chest. In the past year, I’ve changed bra sizes 2 times; going up in cup sizes. Now, I have to face the fact that I may have to go up to another cup size. My waist is becoming more defined. My body shape is changing.
No matter what I do or how I dress, my body looks feminine and sexy. It draws attention that I’m not ready for. Attention I am not sure how to react to. And leaves me with a dilemma.
Do I dress the way I want to dress (adding in more feminine and dramatic touches than I have in the past to express all parts of myself) or do I continue treading the line and mixing more masculine details to detract from the innate sexiness that I can’t unlearn and make go away?
Because I think part of the problem is that I am an innately sensual person. By sensual I mean I live through my senses – for grounding, for information gathering, for pleasure. And when I dress in clothes and accessories that please my senses, the effects can appear sexy.
After all, don’t most people say that:
Confidence is sexy
Power is sexy
Pleasure is sexy
Knowing oneself and owning that is sexy
- I feel confident in many aspects of my life
- I am secure in my values/sense of self
- I enjoy what life offers me and let it show
- I am not secure in my femininity
- I am afraid of anything related to sex and sexuality
- I cannot see myself as sexy without getting triggered
- Wearing body conscious clothing leaves me feeling vulnerable, exposed, and like the child I used to be
- I DON’T want to look, act, or be sexy in any way. But I am earthy, sensual, and sexy. It’s innate and part of my genetic makeup/personality/character.
So I fight with myself. I dream of relationships. I dream of what I can’t have right now. The parts of me that hold my femininity and sexuality are slowly melting and becoming part of my conscious self.
And I don’t know what to do. All I can ask is this:
UNIVERSE, PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GO THROUGH PUBERTY A 10th TIME. Please find a different way to teach me how to accept these parts of myself with less pain, confusion, fear, shame, and guilt.
Thanks for reading.