The Republican and my Body Image

It is always nice when people reconfirm stereotypes I've previously held. It is such hard work to take people out of their little boxes and try to relate to them as individuals, without preconceived caricatures. So, I should be quite grateful to the Republican.

In all honesty, there were several warning signs. When we went out, he had 5 drinks and had no effect at all. And when I said I needed more from him before I was ready to submit, preferably without alcohol, he didn't like that idea. Asked me to think specifically about what I needed, so I sent him a very open, honest e-mail. Explaining about the differences between public woman and private girl, and what the two needed in order for me to be able to submit. I also confided that I thought that while he was quite attracted to public woman, he didn't care for private girl. So asking to see a lot more of her, seemed problematic.

He replied that he wouldn't know if I was good enough till he saw my tits. Once an Ayn Rand fan, always an Ayn Rand fan.

I told him: "I can't imagine a man overlooking flaws in my mind based on my physical attributes. The reverse, perhaps, but not that."

But it brings up a couple of interesting issues; what do I expect men think I'll look like nude? I mean, I'm a size 14 or so (designers are all over the place--sometimes I'm a 12; sometimes I'm a 16, but I hover in the 14 range). In other words, I'm plumper than Kate Winslet is or Marilyn Monroe was. I mean, I thought Botticelli was synonymous with beautiful plump women, but I don't look anything like the Birth of Venus. I don't even think the Birth of Venus looks plump. Renoir is the only one that has come close to painting what I actually look like, and only with some of his paintings. Furthermore, I have a couple of scars. I'm pale white--I look like I soak in Clorox at night. And you simply aren't going to count my ribs. Quite the contrary--my stomach jiggles. I certainly don't look like the Leonard Nimoy nudes; thank God! All my feminist principles say 'but of course they are lovely, but all I can say is Thank God I don't look like that! But I'm not thin by any stretch of any imagination.

I know statistically men look at face, tits and butt. My tits and face are great. I don't know where my butt would be on a scale. But I look at my stomach. Oy, do I look at my stomach. I look at my thighs, which are just too muscular. My inner arms, which jiggle too. But mostly my stomach.

And I have no idea what men would think of me naked. No man has ever said "oh--this isn't what I expected," but I just have no clue there.

Now, the Republican didn't have a problem calling me a 'dumb bitch' at one point. (Why the hell would I overlook something like that? What the hell is wrong with me? I must be a dumb bitch!) When he asked for more and more pictures of me, I assumed it was because he wanted to make sure I really looked like my photos. Every compliment he gave to my looks, based on my photos, I dismissed in my head, because I'm kind of photogenic. I have a smile the camera likes. When we met, he said on several occasions that he thought I was hot. Beautiful. And pretty. Me, being me, I assumed he was being kind because he could pick up that I had an underlying insecurity there. It didn't occur to me that he was quite as selfish as he later proved himself. I don't quite now what I think he expects to see if I were naked. I mean, the man must have some sense of physics and know that the size 14 skirt contains a size 14 body, right? And yet, I cannot intellectualize my way out of believing that a man would be attracted to me despite my body, not because of it.