I don’t want to be afraid of my own body anymore

Experimenting in being a woman.

I had a conversation with Indigo the other day about becoming a woman.  I have recently purchased 5 dresses. Yes, I know. Not my usually jeans and t’s or boots and sandals. Dresses. Weird.

It’s like I think I’m a girl or something. Weird.

So here’s the background: 30 is approaching and with it the psychological marker that I feel finally, that I have given myself the proper childhood I didn’t get to have – so now I can be a woman. FINALLY!

But what does being a woman mean? What is beautiful and feminine and strong at the same time? I have always felt like a tomgirl and have been able to pull off wearing lipstick while shooting a rifle or manicured toenails while climbing in the Alaskan wilderness. I have been able to balance, for the most part, rugged and girly.

Yet I have never managed the trick of having a woman’s body and accepting the attention of the male sex without feeling threatened or hostile or even remotely attractive.  Since I was 14 and developed hips and breasts and could no longer play football or hang with the guys – I have often felt like meat – perpetuated by several events like the bus driver and some scenes that played out to confirm this sense of being not attractive so much as targeted or available.

I believe now, that these things led me to develop a thought pattern that led to overeating in an attempt to hide my body. Prior to hiding my body I was fit and tone and muscular, in fact during cross training for swimming I was burning 3-4 thousand calories a day and pressing 350lbs with my legs. I was not a weakling, but I was also informed by the guy I was totally crushing on – that men don’t like buff women. Crap!

Fast forward to getting married right out of high school and I remained a girl through much of my 8 years. Finally, I have had a chance to be on my own, pay my own bills,  make my choices without affecting another persons level of security. Finally, I have had a chance to develop psychologically, with a sense of independence.  Independence that I guard almost a little too fiercely.

So this thing that seems to be missing is the acceptance that I am a woman. And with it the acknowledgement that my body may be noticed. Especially now that I am working out and the BodyQuest is getting results. I going to have to be able to quantify this.

I need –must-  prep myself to be okay with looking like a woman. Psychologically.  Obviously, some people are reading this going WTF? What did you think you were? Honestly, I have thought of myself as a box. Square and firm and not inviting – because I have not wanted to try to understand the attention. I thought of myself as a fortress, and like any good fortress, I keep people out, especially men who may cause harm with their thoughtless comments and painful observations of my form.

Indigo, who is a stunningly beautiful and feminine goddess said to me, “Learn to just go with it. Say thanks and acknowledge the compliment. You know when you walk past a group of construction workers and they holler at you and cheer and say, “you’re looking’ fine!” Don’t you think to yourself, yep, I’m looking fine today and you feel better?”

I started laughing, because my response to being catcalled has always been, “Go to hell fuckers!” Then I run home and eat ice cream and put on a baggy shirt.

The difference in how attention is perceived just between the two of us is amazing! Stunning! How have I let myself get to this point of fear and exclusion of my own body? How did I develop such horror about being recognized as a female?

The second half of my 90 day challenge is to learn to accept my femininity. It doesn’t mean I have to give up sports, or that I can’t have muscle. I can be a woman and be firm and tone and still attractive.  I can be independent and self sufficient and still not be in danger of being too masculine or fortress-like. I can still go shooting or fencing with painted toes and wear an evening gown out after my workout that shows cleavage and hips and fit, tones arms. I can re-develop the musculature of my days on the field or in the pool and not feel like I am hideous, and I can learn to wear a shirt that shows my midriff and NOT come to screaming threats and blows when some guy makes a comment about my bellybutton. I can do this.  I can accept the female form I have and not live in a constant state of sensing danger, or being afraid that the body I live in will attract a threat to my safety.

This next part of my plan is to dress like a woman. Maybe even over do it a little just to see what it’s like on the other side. Wear provocative things, and cute outfits. Wear perfume and makeup like I normally would, and let the chips fall where they may.  My plan is to let the guard down.

I will not hide my body in baggy clothes for 54 days. I will not put my frump on. I will intentionally accentuate my best parts and I will consciously not run away when those parts are noticed. I will go out. I will dance. I will order a drink and flirt (okay, that my be pushing it). I will smile like a woman smiles and I’ll see for myself – if I am there yet. I will see for myself if I am a strong enough woman to accept the probability that men just might find me attractive, just maybe.

I hereby announce that for the next 54 days, I will not attempt to hide my body behind food in an attempt to shield it from the masculine eye.

I also hereby acknowledge, without shame – that the previous declaration just made my hands start shaking with a substantial amount of fear.  Why this terror? But there it is. It scares the crap out of me, which means… I must do it, just to prove to myself that it’s not going to kill me.

Here it goes. Today I start faking it – to see if I can make it. Balance. Curves and Strength.  Feminine and Masculine. Love of my body. The body of a 30 year old woman.