What's so wrong with just being naked? Society seems to want us to be ashamed of our bodies and cover them up with anyone other than ourselves and our (one and only) partner. I just don't see the reason why. Our bodies are just the casings that stop our blood and guts from falling out. Yes, they're different shapes and sizes depending on how much they need to fit inside. Some of them have different bits attached to them to hold different things. And they're wonderfully clever, well-engineered things which have taken thousands of years of evolution to produce - so why do we have to hide them?
I think being naked can help people to become more
comfortable with their own bodies - covering them up only helps to add
to the idea that our bodies are dirty, shameful secrets that no one
should see. The way the media eroticises nudity only helps to add to the idea that being naked is either naughty or erotic and no one except you and your partner
should ever see it. Which is damaging - there are so many people with issues about body confidence because people are taught to be ashamed of their bodies, especially the 'naughty bits'. Even the terminology is damaging. For someone to learn that some parts of themselves are ok and some are not creates a weird, unhealthy relationship with parts of their bodies. Certain parts are seen as always erotic, no matter what the context. There've been cases of people being taken to court for owning pictures of their spouses breastfeeding their child - because obviously a breast in the picture makes it erotic and therefore child porn! I mean, what the hell?!
Happily, I got to the point over the last year where I'm now in a really happy, comfortable relationship with my body and how I view myself. I've no idea how much I weigh (I never really got the idea of using weight as a measure of health) and I don't care. If I'm happy with my body and feel healthy, then that's what matters.
I'm really pretty happy with my body. Not in a 'I'm so proud of it, it's amazing, I want to show it off' sort of way, but in a 'it's just a body, what's the big deal?' kind of way. I'm don't have that many feelings one way or the other about it. It's just the casing that keeps by blood and guts from spilling everywhere, and well... it looks like a body. I've become a lot more happy being naked - when I'm at Azariah's house I don't bother putting on clothes at night if I get up to go to the toilet. If his mum or dad see me naked, well, they see me naked. It's just a naked body! They've got them, they have children so have presumably seen other people naked before, and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't care or make a big deal about it.
If I see a person getting changed, I don't get automatically turned on. If I fancy them - find them amusing, intelligent
and intriguing - then that might change my response. I can appreciate
body forms that I find aesthetically pleasing, but without the mental
interaction it's not sexy, just 'oh, that's pretty!' The more attracted
to someone I am mentally, the more attractive I find them physically.
The mental side plays a huuuuge part in attraction for me.
There've been lots of times recently where I've been hot and sweaty, and Azariah has taken his top off. I went to do the same, and then realised that I might get reported for doing exactly the same as him. Because obviously my chest is inherently sexual, whereas his isn't. Well y'know what? I'm fed up of it. I want to be naked if it's too hot, and it not be seen as some sort of act of rebellion or anarchy. It's just skin, and sometimes it's too hot to wear clothes. Or I can't be bothered to get dressed. But I'm not trying to be 'sexy' or 'erotic', or prove some kind of point about feminism not having reached its goals yet (there's a lot that could be said about that, but I'll leave it for another post), I just want people to start viewing bodies as just that - bodies. No body part is inherently sexy or erotic, eroticism depends on the context, the relationship between the people involved, the way they feel about themselves and the chemistry between those involved.
So, from now on, I'm going to care a bit less. If I'm round at someone's house and feel hot I'll ask if they'd mind me taking a layer off. I'm not going out of my way to make others uncomfortable, but I don't want to feel uncomfortable either. I won't be wandering the streets naked anytime soon, but I do wish that that were an option if I wanted it to be.
Monday 27 August 2012
Sunday 26 August 2012
Soppy lovey dovey submissive stuff.
So I tried to write some poems last week. One morning I couldn't get any ideas out at all. I thought I'd try just writing a stream of consciousness and see what came out, and maybe I could make something of whatever was going on in my mind. This is what came out:
Azariah
You are my rock, my crutch to lean on when times are hard. You know me better than I know myself. I trust you completely because I know you wouldn't do anything to harm me. I am yours completely to do with what you wish. If you choose to ignore me, hurt me, or cast me aside, I know it's because you have my best interests at heart, and though it might be hard to understand in those moments, your actions always turn out to be what I needed most at the time. I do not feel worthy of being yours, but I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and make you proud of me. When you need someone to lean on, you only have to call me and I'll be there, and I will do my best to make sure you don't have to call. I am yours to make you happy, whatever that may take. You are incredible, you take my breath away. I don't have words enough to describe my depth of feelings for you. All I can do is give you myself. All that I am, I give to you. I love you, Sir. In my eyes you are perfect.
Azariah
You are my rock, my crutch to lean on when times are hard. You know me better than I know myself. I trust you completely because I know you wouldn't do anything to harm me. I am yours completely to do with what you wish. If you choose to ignore me, hurt me, or cast me aside, I know it's because you have my best interests at heart, and though it might be hard to understand in those moments, your actions always turn out to be what I needed most at the time. I do not feel worthy of being yours, but I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and make you proud of me. When you need someone to lean on, you only have to call me and I'll be there, and I will do my best to make sure you don't have to call. I am yours to make you happy, whatever that may take. You are incredible, you take my breath away. I don't have words enough to describe my depth of feelings for you. All I can do is give you myself. All that I am, I give to you. I love you, Sir. In my eyes you are perfect.
This is pretty hard to write.
Trigger warning for rape/abuse.
Ok, this might be a bit too close for comfort for some. Others will probably know the person I'm talking about despite the use of pseudonyms. It's a bit explicit in places. If you think it might make you feel uncomfortable I'd stop now. Have some tea and kittens instead...
_____
Right. Okay.
When I was in University, I met someone I'll call Julian. We were performing in a panto together, and he seemed funny. I little odd and quirky, sometimes a bit annoying, but we had a giggle together.
One day I went over to the halls he was staying in at Uni. We sat and drank tea in his kitchen, I said hi to some of his flatmates, and we ate some cakey thing - I don't remember what it was. Then we went into his room and ended up kissing. After that he told me that when he first met me he knew we'd end up doing this. I found that a little bit arrogant, but also thought that nerves after just kissing someone for the first time can sometimes make you say things you wouldn't normally. Looking back I probably should have heard the alarm bells then, but they were too small for me to actually worry about anything.
There's a bit of a gap in my memory here - the next bit I remember is lying on the floor while his fingers were inside me, feeling decidedly uncomfortable and knowing that I didn't really want this, but I didn't want to make him feel bad, and I thought it wasn't doing any harm - he'd get bored soon and stop surely. I felt nervous and a little pressured, but not out of my depth. I wasn't scared.
Then he got out a condom and put it on his cock. There wasn't any talking. He didn't ask me if I wanted to have sex, or check for my consent. I think he interpreted my silence as consent enough - I hadn't said no, so I couldn't have a problem with this, right? At this point I knew I definitely didn't want to have sex with him, but I thought 'well he's opened the packet now, he'll be annoyed if he's wasted it. I can't really say no after I let him have his fingers inside me, he'll expect me to have sex with him now...'
I tensed up. I didn't want sex, I didn't want to offend him by saying no, I thought he'd think that I'd led him on, teased him. I was still lying on my back, but I sat up and backed away from him, hoping he'd take it as a hint. He crawled forward until he was positioned above me. I tensed up. I couldn't talk. I clamped my cunt muscles closed as tightly as I could, thinking that if he couldn't get it inside it just wouldn't happen and he'd give up.
He tried to force himself inside me. He couldn't get more than the head inside. He tried again a few times, laughing at his inability to get inside. I didn't say anything. I'm not sure I could've.
After a few more tries he gave up, took the condom off and that was it. I didn't feel like I'd been raped, I just thought that that sort of thing sometimes happened if one person wanted sex and the other didn't. I left his place and have never seen him since.
Looking back, with hindsight and a lot more knowledge about consent, I was raped. It wasn't the pantomime villain in an alleyway with a knife, it was someone I knew, in the middle of the day, after tea and cakes. I wasn't kicking and screaming, struggling or held down. But I didn't consent. I wasn't even asked whether I wanted any of this, it was just either a naive assumption that because I hadn't said stop that I wanted him to carry on, or he realised that I wasn't into it but decided to carry on unless I said no - that way justifying it in his head. I really hope it was the former, but I tried to physically push him away, remove myself from the situation, and at no point did I say yes (or any variant thereof).
This happened quite a few years ago, and I only remembered it in March this year, at which point I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach, my guts had been pulled out and I was going to vomit. I was confused, because I hadn't said no, so it couldn't have been rape right? And it was someone I knew! Also lots of my friends know him, think he's nice or funny or odd, and nice people with friends can't be rapists surely.
The trouble is that everyone knows him. I don't feel like I can tell anyone (except a few close friends) in case they think I'm making it up, or I'm exaggerating, etc. Every time his name has been mentioned since I remembered this incident, I shut down. I feel hollow, like there's a sinking emptiness in my stomach. I lose the ability to talk. I feel like curling up and crying, and most of the time I have to make my excuses (non-verbally) and get away from the conversation.
I've been to two weddings in the last few weeks. At the end of the night after the first wedding, his name was mentioned. Not just his name, but also the fact that he was a bit odd, and had written a load of stories about rape. It was right at the end, and I had about half an hour of being unable to speak. People asked if I was ok and I just nodded or gave a thumbs up. I couldn't say anything.
The following weekend at the start of the reception he was brought up again. The conversation went on for a good 5 minutes about his 'hilarious' stories, weird cooking habits and generally just how amusing people find him. I had to find a close friend and just hold her hand for a while without speaking. After I'd recovered from that, an hour or so later he was mentioned again in another conversation with a separate group of friends!
It seems that he's being mentioned around me more and more often, and I need to find a way to deal with my reactions to him so that I'm able to hear his name without completely shutting down. Maybe writing this will help. Julian raped me.
Ok, this might be a bit too close for comfort for some. Others will probably know the person I'm talking about despite the use of pseudonyms. It's a bit explicit in places. If you think it might make you feel uncomfortable I'd stop now. Have some tea and kittens instead...
_____
Right. Okay.
When I was in University, I met someone I'll call Julian. We were performing in a panto together, and he seemed funny. I little odd and quirky, sometimes a bit annoying, but we had a giggle together.
One day I went over to the halls he was staying in at Uni. We sat and drank tea in his kitchen, I said hi to some of his flatmates, and we ate some cakey thing - I don't remember what it was. Then we went into his room and ended up kissing. After that he told me that when he first met me he knew we'd end up doing this. I found that a little bit arrogant, but also thought that nerves after just kissing someone for the first time can sometimes make you say things you wouldn't normally. Looking back I probably should have heard the alarm bells then, but they were too small for me to actually worry about anything.
There's a bit of a gap in my memory here - the next bit I remember is lying on the floor while his fingers were inside me, feeling decidedly uncomfortable and knowing that I didn't really want this, but I didn't want to make him feel bad, and I thought it wasn't doing any harm - he'd get bored soon and stop surely. I felt nervous and a little pressured, but not out of my depth. I wasn't scared.
Then he got out a condom and put it on his cock. There wasn't any talking. He didn't ask me if I wanted to have sex, or check for my consent. I think he interpreted my silence as consent enough - I hadn't said no, so I couldn't have a problem with this, right? At this point I knew I definitely didn't want to have sex with him, but I thought 'well he's opened the packet now, he'll be annoyed if he's wasted it. I can't really say no after I let him have his fingers inside me, he'll expect me to have sex with him now...'
I tensed up. I didn't want sex, I didn't want to offend him by saying no, I thought he'd think that I'd led him on, teased him. I was still lying on my back, but I sat up and backed away from him, hoping he'd take it as a hint. He crawled forward until he was positioned above me. I tensed up. I couldn't talk. I clamped my cunt muscles closed as tightly as I could, thinking that if he couldn't get it inside it just wouldn't happen and he'd give up.
He tried to force himself inside me. He couldn't get more than the head inside. He tried again a few times, laughing at his inability to get inside. I didn't say anything. I'm not sure I could've.
After a few more tries he gave up, took the condom off and that was it. I didn't feel like I'd been raped, I just thought that that sort of thing sometimes happened if one person wanted sex and the other didn't. I left his place and have never seen him since.
Looking back, with hindsight and a lot more knowledge about consent, I was raped. It wasn't the pantomime villain in an alleyway with a knife, it was someone I knew, in the middle of the day, after tea and cakes. I wasn't kicking and screaming, struggling or held down. But I didn't consent. I wasn't even asked whether I wanted any of this, it was just either a naive assumption that because I hadn't said stop that I wanted him to carry on, or he realised that I wasn't into it but decided to carry on unless I said no - that way justifying it in his head. I really hope it was the former, but I tried to physically push him away, remove myself from the situation, and at no point did I say yes (or any variant thereof).
This happened quite a few years ago, and I only remembered it in March this year, at which point I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach, my guts had been pulled out and I was going to vomit. I was confused, because I hadn't said no, so it couldn't have been rape right? And it was someone I knew! Also lots of my friends know him, think he's nice or funny or odd, and nice people with friends can't be rapists surely.
The trouble is that everyone knows him. I don't feel like I can tell anyone (except a few close friends) in case they think I'm making it up, or I'm exaggerating, etc. Every time his name has been mentioned since I remembered this incident, I shut down. I feel hollow, like there's a sinking emptiness in my stomach. I lose the ability to talk. I feel like curling up and crying, and most of the time I have to make my excuses (non-verbally) and get away from the conversation.
I've been to two weddings in the last few weeks. At the end of the night after the first wedding, his name was mentioned. Not just his name, but also the fact that he was a bit odd, and had written a load of stories about rape. It was right at the end, and I had about half an hour of being unable to speak. People asked if I was ok and I just nodded or gave a thumbs up. I couldn't say anything.
The following weekend at the start of the reception he was brought up again. The conversation went on for a good 5 minutes about his 'hilarious' stories, weird cooking habits and generally just how amusing people find him. I had to find a close friend and just hold her hand for a while without speaking. After I'd recovered from that, an hour or so later he was mentioned again in another conversation with a separate group of friends!
It seems that he's being mentioned around me more and more often, and I need to find a way to deal with my reactions to him so that I'm able to hear his name without completely shutting down. Maybe writing this will help. Julian raped me.
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