Knowing and Being Myself

A while ago I wrote a song about finding myself. This song was borne out of many different situations, but one of the primary feelings I wished to express was the frustration I felt at knowing certain things about myself, but not being able to act on those things for one reason or another.

One thing that I have always known about myself—or have at least known for long enough now that “always” feels like a good word to use—is that I am most definitely a sexual being. I like to feel sexy. I like to feel attractive. I like to be a sexy person. But I have rarely been able to be this person, and it has pained me for years.

At first I was unable to be this person because I was too young. I know that there are many today who do not think twice about thirteen and fourteen year-olds dressing as, shall we say, adults, but when I was that age, it was much less acceptable than it is today (and with good reason—girls that young should perhaps exercise more caution about how they express their sexuality, because when you’re that young, you’re kind of an idiot, I don’t care who you are).

Next I was unable to be this person because of my weight. There were a few shining moments during my teens and during my early twenties where I genuinely felt attractive, but they were infrequent and didn’t last for long. It’s pretty terrible to want to be seen as physically attractive, but not feel physically attractive. Ever*.

But that is—finally—starting to change.

This past weekend I attended The Ohio Valley Filk Fest. I always really look forward to going to this convention. It’s the home of amazing fun and amazing people. It’s also the home of “The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party”, which is an ice breaker type of event held Friday evening, to which all participants must wear some kind of hat. There’s tea and cider and various tea-related finger foods, and it’s a good time.

One of the things I love about going to conventions is that they give me the opportunity—hell, the excuse—to costume. Yes, I am so very much a costumer (and I can’t wait to start sewing again). So for this year’s Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, I decided to wear this:

^{By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes…
I do wish we’d gotten a better photograph.}

I would not normally wear something this salacious in public**, even to a convention. But this time I did. And I felt fierce. And it was incredibly wonderful.

I know I’ve written before about how, since I’ve lost a significant amount of weight, I’m starting to look like myself again. But now I’m starting to feel like myself again, and I feel better able to express a side of myself that’s long been hidden because of my weight. And I just wanted to share how bloody wonderful it was!






<sup>*I should note that my husband has never, at any point in our relationship, intentionally made me feel unattractive or unworthy of him or anyone else as a companion. He found me desirable whether I weighed 285 pounds or 185 pounds. But I’ve wished to look attractive to other people as well as to my husband. I don’t think that’s an uncommon thing for people involved in monogamous relationships, though I’m hard pressed to explain why that is a thing that is important to me.

**Those of you familiar with my habit of wearing corsets to conventions may call bullshit, but cleavage is one thing. A dress that’s this form-fitting and—*gasp*—shows off my legs is something quite different altogether.</sup>