Being Amber Rhea

So this girl was giving me a hard time, ostensibly in a friendly way, about how I wear “baggy clothes” and therefore she didn’t know I had “such a nice body” until she saw my pole dancing videos on YouTube. I should’ve said something to her at the time - and there is a slim but existent chance that she may read this, and I’m okay with that - but I haven’t had the energy for confrontation lately, especially with her, because she’s been such a good friend in so many other ways since my dad’s death. When I look at it objectively it’s a rather minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things. But she just kept going ON and ON about it, telling me things like I need to wear a small not a medium (um, sometimes I do; sizes vary, after all), and you know, at a certain point, it grates. Badly.

And she isn’t the first to do this. Not at all - she just took it further than most people have. I mean, even Rusty said I have “stealth tits” (not mad at him about that; but just saying). People say they’re surprised, as if my measurements snuck up on them, because I “don’t wear tight clothes” (their words). This girl in particular was the first in a while (if ever; I really don’t know) to actually say “baggy clothes.” It got to the point with her where even though I knew she was trying to be complimentary, it was starting to make me feel like I was in middle school all over again, being critiqued about what’s not good enough about me.

And anyway, give me a break! First of all, I don’t think I wear baggy clothes. No, I don’t wear skin-tight clothes, either; but you know why? Because it’s not comfortable to me, especially when it’s HOT out, like it happens to be right now in mid-summer Georgia.

I think the next time I talk to this girl, if she brings it up, I’m going to say something like, “I appreciate your compliments about my figure, but I dress the way I want to dress and the subject is not open for debate.” If I have the energy, that is. I’ll probably be talking to her after work today, so we’ll see if she mentions it. Hopefully she won’t and that’ll be that.

Ren has a post up about the whole “pornified” concept, and how women who do certain things or look a certain way basically become whipping girls for all of society’s ills, including poor body image among women and the impending demise of feminism, and oh yes, did I mention the terrorists hate us?

Over there, I wrote, in response to a thoughtful commenter called seven (quoted portions from her are in italics):

I think, though, that women look around and see that their significant others are spending their time looking at the pornified women. And we are told in this culture that if your man is even looking at someone else, you are failing as a woman.

A few things there:

Not every woman’s is S.O. “spending time looking at pornified women.” But I don’t think you necessarily meant all women, which brings me, more to the point, to…

Not every woman is threatened by her male S.O. finding other women attractive. I have blogged about this before, and how I think this weird jealousy/insecurity thing is built into our culture as an expected part of what makes a relationship, but really it’s dysfunctional as hell.

And it all boils down to communication, really. What are your expectations in the relationship? What type of behavior do you expect when it comes to acknowledging sexual attraction toward others? (To deny it exists at all is silly; we’re all human.) Nobody is a mind-reader, and it’s unfair to expect someone to adhere to a standard that they don’t even know about. This goes for men, woman, straight, gay, bi, everything.

So, I don’t think that your choice to be pornified changes what my choices ARE, but the fact that some women choose to be pornified lessen my chances at getting laid, or even looked at as an option by men.

Well, seven, I have to ask: if that’s the case, then would you really want to have sex with those guys? If all they’re looking for is a very specific kind of physical appearance? Would that make you happy, if the physical appearance they were looking for matched yours?

The responsibility here is with the guys, not with Ren or any other women who happen to fit a certain standard of beauty. This is not to say there’s no pressure from society (I wrote about this on another post, in fact); obviously there is! You’d be living under a rock not to admit it. But societal expectations or no, it’s still the responsibility of each individual adult to make decisions for him and herself, and not just behave as a mindless, hapless cog in a machine.

Later in the thread, someone called mr. deet comes along and points out something that I’ve found to be true for a lot of men (emphasis mine):

Not all men want porn looking women. Most men don’t really. They might look, but part of it is because we’ve been told to look.
…
Most men could also probably not handle being with a woman who does what Ren does for a living. After all, we get jealous too.

And, again, this is the men’s responsibility. All of it stems from what we’ve been taught about sex, men, and women in our culture; Figleaf aptly describes it as the “no-sex class” phenomenon.

Lots of other people are doing it, so I will too. Via Newt In a Tea Cup (whose blog design I love, btw).

• Name: Please. You know it by now.
• Age: 27
• Height: 5′6″
• Weight: 130 lbs.
• Do you consider yourself attractive? For the most part, yeah. But it’s hard to say that without the “ZOMG STOP UR BEING SELFISH!!!!” bells going off in my head.
• Do others consider you attractive? *shrug* Some do. Some probably don’t. I’m not a mind reader.
• What is your biggest insecurity and why? I have quite a few insecurities (there’s a surprise!) which sometimes I don’t feel insecure about for weeks, and then they’ll just creep up on me one day and I’ll feel like shit for no good reason. These include: my teeth (not white enough, not straight enough), and I can point to exactly what that goes back to, but that’s another story for another time; I have a fairly odd mole on my leg; every once in a blue moon, I think my eyebrows look weird. I’m sure no one else cares. And I feel like a jerk for even enumerating these insecurities, for some reason. That’s MY SHIT!
• Have you/Would you consider using plastic surgery? Why or why not? I don’t like these “would you” type questions. At the moment, no, I wouldn’t; but who knows what could happen in the future that would make me change my mind. So there’s a definitive “I don’t know” for you!
• What is your relationship with make-up? I hardly ever wear it, and as such I don’t have much of it around the house. At the moment I own a lipstick, which I use maybe 3-4 times a week, and a thing of eyeshadow which I’ve used like twice since I bought it.
• How much money do you/think is reasonable to spend on your appearance? I guess however much I want to and can reasonably afford.
• What is your experience of dieting? I haven’t been on any specific diets. I try to eat healthy and most of the time I succeed, but that’s pretty much the extent of it.
• Have you/ anyone you know tried any specific diet programs i.e. Lighter Life? How did that affect your health? your moods? your relationships? Rusty and Niki both did South Beach and it was a great experience for them. Rusty says he feels so much better (healthier) now.
• Do you have any experiences of eating disorders i.e. either yourself or someone you know? A few friends and acquaintances have struggled with eating disorders of one type or another.
• How did other people react to this; what was the fallout? Umm, I don’t really have an answer to this question. I mean, with my friends, I was concerned about them; but with most of them the eating disorder was in their past, before I knew them.
• Have you had negative experiences relating to your appearance and people’s reactions to it? Have I? Well, how much time have you got? … Seriously, throughout middle school and some of high school, I was “the ugly girl.” Worse, I was the smart “ugly girl,” so I got a double-dose of abuse. It didn’t matter that, as I got into my later teens, I wasn’t an awkward-looking 7th grader anymore; I’d been branded, and that was my identity, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not surprisingly, since I didn’t have much in the way of positive support at home, and my friends were just as fucked-up as I was, I internalized it and believed it. It took me years to finally believe that I’m not ugly. Thanks, therapy, you are awesome. I admit that sometimes, that old shit still sneaks up on me. The younger you are when shit happens, the more deeply it gets embedded in your brain, and… that shit is in there deep.
• What about positive reactions to your body? The compliment I get the most is people saying I have beautiful eyes. Various people over the years have told me I’m sexy and such. Rusty tells me every day, usually multiple times a day. That makes me happy. (Note: at this point I should point out, if you’re some guy I don’t know very well or don’t know at all, and you’re reading this, and you feel like now would be a good time to chime in with some comment about how sexy I am… don’t. It’s not flattering. It’s creepy.) More than a few people have told me I have “stealth boobs” which are a pleasant surprise. I’m a 34-D but I guess, somehow, it doesn’t show? People have said stuff like, “You don’t wear tight shirts!” Except that I do, sometimes. So I don’t know what’s up. But stealth is okay with me. Oh and Dacia said, “Dude, you’ve got some serious tits.” To which I replied, “Yeah, they’re serious, but they also like to kick back and just have fun, too.”
• How has your body image and attitude changed over the years? It’s gotten better and better. I’ve had a few backslides - biggest one after my divorce - but it’s pretty much remained positive, despite all the shit I dealt with as a teenager. Senior year of high school and freshman year of college were particularly positive, liberating times that helped shape my self-image into something more confident and secure.
• What do you love about your body? I do have beautiful eyes; I love ‘em. I also love my ass and my stealth boobs. And for the most part, I love my hair, just the way it is, even if it isn’t anybody’s idea of fashionable or hot or whatever else.
• What is your opinion on the media portrayal of women’s bodies? “Ludicrous” might be putting it mildly.
• What would you change about the way you/ your friends/ your family/ general people see their bodies? If I could wave a magic wand? I’d get rid of all that bullshit that I’ve dealt with to a large extent, but which I’m still carrying around in some form, whether I like it or not. Same for everybody else with all their various types of baggage.
• What makes you feel beautiful? I like being naked. Also, sitting in the sunlight makes me feel beautiful (’cause of the warmth, maybe?), and so does pole dancing.
• and just for fun… Do you shave legs/pits/upper lip moustache? Legs: yes, about every two weeks or so; pits: had laser hair removal but still have to do some trimming every once in a while; upper lip moustache: don’t have one.

So there you have it. No shame. I’m over shame.

My copy of Sheila Kelley’s The S Factor: Strip Workouts for Every Woman came today, and I am giddy with happiness about it. Not only is this book an excellent work-out guide, it’s also chock full of awesome affirmations and ways to help you examine and analyze and break down all the bullshit and feel better about yourself.

Level 2 pole dancing class starts in less than a week. I’m nervous and excited.

Attack at will, but I don’t have time for some kind of nuanced post where I choose every word oh so carefully.

Monday night at pole dancing class, I finally wore these booty shorts that I bought about 3 months ago. (They look like this except they’re red.) I originally bought them because my instructors each have a pair and they wear them all the time, and they look really comfortable. And they are comfortable, and hot too, if I say so myself. And yet… I felt apprehensive about wearing them to class. The one place that’s been a consistenly supportive, safe, women-only environment, and I felt nervous and self-conscious. (Much of this goes back to my own shit, some old shit, and I’ll get to that in a minute.)

But I decided that this was the night, I had to finally wear the damn things, I didn’t buy them to just lay around in my drawer. And I knew I would be pissed at myself if I continued to let my old fears and insecurities control me. So I wore them under some workout pants and when I got to the studio I was still debating over whether or not to lose the pants. A classmate told me I should go for it. The instructors said they looked cute. So I went ahead and lost the workout pants.

I didn’t feel weird or anything just sitting in a chair waiting for class to start. But then when we started with the warm-up (this consists mostly of normal fitness class warm-up stuff; stretching and the like) I started to feel pretty uncomfortable. It’s like an old recording started playing in my head: “too much skin too much skin flaunting flaunting no one else is dressed like this good girls don’t it’s innappropriate…” and so on. I wondered if my ass was hanging out too much. More than that, I became extremely pre-occupied with whether any pubes were discernable. (In the low light, probably not, but then, I don’t know for sure.) I felt discouraged at the thought that in order to wear these shorts and be acceptable in class, I’d have to shave. Because fuck that, I hate shaving, and I’m not going to do it.

This pressure I felt, like I said, it came from some old shit. It didn’t come, I don’t think, directly from anyone in class; I’ve gotten to know these women over the past few months and they are all awesome, down-to-earth, supportive people. And yet I felt as if the pressure were coming from them. Thanks to my years of therapy, I was able to recognize it for what it was: projecting.

Years and years ago, I became all too accustomed to getting looks and sneers and comments and laughter from people all around me. Now the feelings associated with that stuff were coming back, and so it was like I had to have some external bodies fill in as the source of those feelings.

Or something.

It’s weird how this stuff will creep up on me at seemingly random, seemingly innocuous times. I don’t expect anyone else to understand. I expect people to scratch their heads and ask all kinds of questions that piss me off.

I still had fun during class, in the sense that I always have fun during class; but after each spin I was constantly yanking my shorts down. God forbid someone see the dreaded pubic hair!!1! By the time I got home I felt very vulnerable, and launched into a long outporing-of-old-shit to Rusty, telling him things that I’ve only ever told a handful of people. This led to a crying episode on my part; but it felt good to get it all out. (Have I mentioned today that Rusty is awesome, awesome, awesome?)

At one point I said, “I felt so uncomfortable in that room. I wouldn’t have felt uncomfortable like that in a room full of men.”

And it’s true. I don’t think I can really explain it accurately, but that’s the way I feel. I remember back in college, in one of my women’s studies classes, reading what Mary Daly had to say about women being the ones to perpetuate the harmful societal expectations (and actions) onto other women - thereby keeping the women from focusing their attention on the men, or the system, or whatever. Something like that. She used examples such as female genital mutilation in Africa and foot-binding in Asia.

I’m not sure if that’s what this is, exactly. I don’t blame Teh Patriarchy™ for my feelings and issues here - although perhaps some would say I should. But to them I say, you don’t know my personal history. You don’t know all the stuff that I, just me, in particular, went through that caused these feelings in the first place. (And thank god for therapy!)

But also, wrt shaving and general status quo approved feminine primping, I do feel the pressure to do it more from women (in general) than men. Again, not sure how much of this is The Truth, and how much of it is my own shit. (But at a certain point, does it matter? She asked, rhetorically.) Oh, and coincidentally, RenEv has a post along these same lines today.

This is not to place blame universally on women, or to absolve men of all responsibility. Fuck no. That would be stupid. This is just… some ramblings. Some stream-of-consciousness. Based on what I felt/experienced Monday night. And a reminder to myself that there’s plenty of stuff I need to keep working on.

To be continued later, maybe. Back to work now.

So, tonight was my third Strip Through Time class. I came away from the previous two weeks’ classes (as well as the six pole fitness classes I’ve taken) feeling energized, positive, and confident; but for some reason I didn’t feel quite as awesome after this one.

We did shadow dancing (or screen dancing; I can’t remember which is the proper term) tonight. Watching other people do it, it looked really cool. But I don’t know what my deal was; I just ended up having, for a lot of the time, a sense that I wasn’t doing nearly as good of a job as the other students. I tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered with me nonetheless. I am always kind of nervous at the beginning of any of these classes, but usually the nervousness slips away pretty quickly because I’m having so much fun. This was a different kind of thing though.

Don’t get me wrong… it’s not that I didn’t enjoy tonight’s class, because I did. But I just didn’t come away with that good, energized feeling.

I can’t put my finger on what it is exactly… something along the lines of, I remain doubtful that I “look sexy” doing all the stuff we learn in class - and fearful on some level that I’ll be laughed at (that goes back to some old, old shit; which is part of why I’m doing this in the first place, so I can overcome all of those old fears). Anyway. The “looking sexy” thing isn’t even the best way to describe it. I am having a very difficult time articulating what I mean here…

It’s not the sexual or sensual aspect of it that trips me up; I am very comfortable with my sexuality, as many of you who know me can attest. I have no qualms about that stuff. I mean, hell, I’ve fucked strangers in front of other strangers and didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed or apprehensive; on the contrary, it felt natural and comfortable. Some people might think it’s weird that I could be comfortable with that kind of thing but not with dancing behind a screen, for fuck’s sake. But, if you think it’s weird, then that’s just proof that you don’t know me.

But to get back to the point… It’s more that I’m afraid I don’t have good fluid motion, or rhythm, or generally look like I know what I’m doing. I feel like my movements are all herky-jerky. But I’ve never really been able to develop myself in that way, due to a variety of reasons. For the longest time I always would say something like, “Oh, I just have no rhythm” or, “I am just not coordinated” - but I refuse to allow myself to hide behind those cop-outs anymore. I’m tired of it. I just find it difficult to honestly believe that it is more nature than nurture at work here.

Well, this is going nowhere fast, so I should probably just stop rambling. I’ve been utterly unable to convey what I mean, but oh well… I’ll keep mulling it over in my head, where it actually makes sense.

I’d be lying if I said I was immune to it. It’s the reason I sometimes get all self-conscious and think, “Maybe I should get that space between my teeth fixed.” Or why I sometimes look in the mirror and wonder, “Do these pants make my ass look ginormous?” Or why I occasionally contemplate how weird my eyebrows are; they grow kind of like half-eyebrows, really, so I look perpetually disapproving (which isn’t that much of a stretch, actually).

As for guys being affected by the popularized (fake) image of female beauty, so much so that they find it difficult to be aroused by real-life women… well, not sure what to say about that. I’m sure there are some guys for whom that is true - but they probably have the general mentality of a 14-year-old. Anyone worth bothering with should have enough brainpower to recognize that all that shit is fake, and they should be capable of enough self-examination to admit that if they are somewhat affected by The Beauty Myth, they can do something about it - they don’t have to go their entire lives being unreasonably repulsed by normal things like cellulite or breasts that aren’t perfectly orblike. Of course, I would like for those fake images of female beauty to not be so prevalent, as nothing good can come of that shit - but that’s another post for another time.

The guys I consider friends aren’t such asshats as to claim to be victims of The Beauty Myth. They’re intelligent enough to appreciate that real women come in all shapes and sizes and that yes, many different shapes and sizes can be attractive. I guess there are women out there, too, who expect all men to have six-packs and rippling muscles - but there are probably fewer of those than their male counterparts, and anyway, they’re just as ridiculous, so who cares about the numbers.

Do you want to know what I’m attracted to? Well I’ll tell you. First of all, I’m not interested in out-of-control muscles; frankly I find that shit gross. I am nonchalant about six-packs. I do have a “type” based soley on physical impressions: nerdy, skinny guys, with or without glasses, perhaps with the faux-messy look to their hair. Discernable collarbones are good as well.

But that kind of attraction is usually merely of the “passing someone in the grocery story and thinking, ‘Hey, he’s hot’” variety. What attracts me to people who I actually know and interact with for more than two seconds is more subtle. Mostly it has to do with their personality. Sense of humor is huge. And as I mentioned previously, nerdity (e.g., CSS skillz) is a huge turn-on.

I hope I’m not being totally idiotic in thinking that most guys with a brain in their head have a similar perspective. (And if none of this makes any sense, just take a look at the hour at which it was posted.)