Before I rant, I really, really hope that I am not the only one who feels this way. I guess it doesn't really matter, but if I'm the only one, then it is my problem, my fault, my issue, and I should just get over it, live with it, deal with it, move on, not let it bother me, etc.
Anyway...
An actual terror comes over me at the thought of going to see or renting an R-rated movie, (or even some Pg-13 movies), with my significant other, if I know it has an actress in it who flaunts her body, or is playing a character that flaunts her body, and obviously worse, if she is naked.
Esp when the only point is for the male audience to be lusting after her. The more she takes off, the uglier I become. Shame overflows me and I spend the rest of the movie hating myself, feeling absolutely ugly, and mentally planning how not to eat for the next several months or berating myself for what I’ve already eaten that day/week/month and how I am the only one to blame for not being beautiful / not achieving my ideal weight.
I don't need to see some random guys dick to call something pornography. If she's naked, and breathing heavy, in the throes of passion, acting all orgasmic, it's pornography. And not only would I not want my significant other watching porn, I definitely don't want to be sitting right there next to him while he does.
My things become bigger and bigger, and the humongous fat between the upper area such an ugly, blubbery mass of ugliness. My arms are huge, my things are huge, my butt is disgusting, and, if that wasn't enough, my stomach is so disfigured from my pregnancy when I was 19 that even when....IF.....I reach goal, there is no chance at my being completely free or sexy without hiding.
I say IF since my body seems to REFUSE to lose weight even though it's scientifically and mathematically impossible. (I burned 800 calories at the gym today, stayed on the elliptical for over an hour). I am contemplating going on a liquid diet, though I don't see the point -- meaning, if I consume 800 calories (440 of them being from protein to ensure I consume the 110 grams needed to maintain my muscle), what difference does it make if they are liquid or chewable. I would think digesting means you would burn more calories.
I feel like screaming. Inside I am screaming. I feel so freaking, horribly ugly. Actually, I will rephrase that. I don't feel ugly. I know -- mentally -- that I am pretty. I feel so unsexy. So not what any man would want. Sure, i guess they could block out the sight of my stomach, but I just feel that if I was walking around in an outfit trying to be sexy in a room full of model-thin girls, I would be invisible and worth nothing and last choice. And I am so freaking sick of being fat / too heavy to feel sexy or like I have the right to even try to act sexy. I am too fat. There is way too much squishiness for me to act like I am
I think the porn industry is destroying marriages, because if I feel like this at a size 10 at 5'5, I can't even imagine how a soccer mom in a size 12 or 14 or 16 feels, esp if her poor stretched out stomach has seen 2 or 3 kids. And it's not even so much the porn industry, its what Naomi Wolf calls beauty porn -- the "sex sells everything" advertisement that prevails, with every ultra-thin, half-dressed young woman's expression being that of anticipating orgasm. And she notes, that it's not "sex sells" it's that "sexual DISSATISFACTION sells", because if committed men and women, husband and wives were happily fueling their passions into each other, they wouldn't need the product being sold that "promised" it.
With the barrage of underweight, perfect (ie. airbrushed), and fake (ie -- you can't have boobs and have a bf of 17% or less) images thrown at us thousands of times a day that we know our men are also seeing, it's no wonder women come to bed feeling less than, wanting to do it in the dark, or not wanting to do it at all, so he doesn't feel our squishy imperfections.
I will end with this note, also by Naomi Wolf:
If a girl's only window on male sexuality were a stream of easily available, well-lit, cheap images of young men in their late teens/early 20's smiling encouraging and readily cuddly erect the color of roses or mocha, she might well look at, masturbate to, and, as an adult, "need" beauty pornography based on the bodies of men. And if those initiating penises were shown to the girl as pneumatically erectile, swerving neither left nor right, tasting of cinnamon or forest berries, innocent of random hairs, and ever ready; if they were presented alongside their measurements, lengths, and circumference to the quarter inch; if they seemed to be available to her with no troublesome personality attached; if her sweet pleasure seemed to be the only reason for them to exist -- then a real men would probably approach the bed of their lovers with, to say the least, a failing heart.
I wish men would just try to imagine living in a world where the above bombarded from every direction -- commercials, billboards, movies, TV shows, magazine covers, music videos, etc. -- all the while telling them quite clearly that this was the ONLY way they could be worthwhile, be found sexy and attractive, and have any happiness, that is was the sole basis for their self-esteem, that strength, career, status, and prestige (comparable to a girl-smarts, creativity, etc.) was so secondary to their self-worth that it was almost non-existent. I would like THAT man to ever complain again that his wife doesn't initiate it often enough, doesn't like to be touched, or wants to do it in the dark.
