Tell Me What You Don't Like About Yourself

I was in the 6th grade the first time a boy made a comment about my boobs. I don't remember too much about it honestly. It was in Spanish class. It was a boy I had a crush on. It made me feel simultaneously embarrassed and thrilled. He'd noticed me. Maybe these were good for something.

I developed very early - probably 5th grade when I started wearing a sports bra. I actually probably needed a real bra, but I'm not sure my mom thought so or knew how to deal with a kid who had C cups by the 7th grade.

I was also going through my anorexic period then, so my young body was slim waisted and very, very curvy. Boys who hadn't given me the time of day previously were talking to me, making comments on how I looked. When I was 13, I was being sexualized by my peers.

I was obviously older here. 18 maybe? 

Even I'm overwhelmed by my bosom.

I remember ditching band class for weeks in high school because the other kids in the saxophone section - all boys - made lewd jokes about me. I tried to play along at first, but it only got worse, and it made me so uncomfortable that I'd spend that class period hiding in the library. Every night I'd intercept the automated phone call from the attendance office notifying my parents that I'd skipped class. Until one day my band teacher actually called my house. And I had to explain to him, and my parents, why I'd been ditching.

It was utterly humiliating. Their solution was to move me to a higher level band class. Did the boys ever know, ever get reprimanded? I don't know.

Having big breasts seems to give people the notion that it's okay to talk about them to you. It makes you feel like a freak show. I remember hanging with some friends of mine. I was probably 16 or 17. One of the guy friends told me that we were playing a game, and to run at him. When I did, he grabbed my breasts. I guess the game was for him to grope me in front of all our mutual friends. I laughed it off. I always laughed it off.

At my sister's wedding. I looked like the prow of a ship.

When I was just out of high school I was working at a fast food place. One of the guys there was constantly saying inappropriate things to me, and I just brushed it off. One day, I was working the drive thru, and out of nowhere he grabbed my breast. I was furious - finally! I got mad! Why did it take so long for this inappropriate bullshit to spark the anger in me that should have been there all along? I stormed into the manager's office and demanded the guy be fired, or I'd walk. A friend of mine that worked there said he'd leave, too. They fired the guy; though I heard they hired him back after I left because he was such a good worker.

People still make comments, joke that they can't keep their eyes off my chest. And yeah, it makes me hate my boobs. They draw unwanted attention. I often feel they're the only attractive thing about me. Which is the only reason I hesitate - to have a breast reduction.

Even though I was thin here I still was very top heavy.

I'm in pain all the time - my back hurts, my shoulders hurt. Buying bras requires taking out a loan. A reduction would surely help, but there are some hoops. For insurance to cover it, back pain must be caused by the weight of my chest. I have to go to physical therapy first. And no one's said it yet, but likely they'll want me to go on a diet.

You've been here long enough. You know that's not where I'm headed. Body liberation doesn't encompass dieting. Something most people inevitably fail at anyway. I don't wanna yoyo anymore. I want my body to exist as it is, however that is, at any given time. I'm terrified of being told to lose weight - it triggers so much self loathing in me. It triggers anorexic thoughts, and excessive exercise habits. I fight constantly to be okay with being me. I don't want to back slide.

So the other route would be out of pocket. I could start saving, eventually make it work. It will change my life - but how? Will I look fatter? Will I be attractive at all? Are my freakish boobs the most interesting thing about me, and will minimizing them minimize me?

Will I be as much fun? Will I be feminine enough? 

Will I still carry two Coors lights at parties???

I don't know where I'm at with this. If money weren't an issue, that would definitely tip me in the direction of doing it. What about the pain? The recovery time? What if it's the last piece of me that people see any value in? What if it makes me less attractive? Why do I still care about being attractive to people???

It's not an easy decision, or an easy thing to talk about. But when have I ever taken the easy road?

Take Me Baby, Or Leave Me

I talk about one of my bis a lot (bipolar) but not about my other (bisexual). I don't know why that one scares me more to talk about since they're both stigmatized. Maybe because I have heteronormative privilege as I'm married to a man, so I can keep my bisexuality a secret? You'd think I could keep my bipolar a secret, but if you've spent any time with me you probably knew something wasn't quite right.

Coming out as bipolar was terrifying but I felt it really put the pieces together, made sense of my erratic behavior, sort of explained me. To be honest, I felt like it excused the the things that I had little control over before the medication. But now I'm medicated so any jackassery is all my own.

Actually that's not how that works, but maybe you get the point. It's limited jackassery, hopefully not as toxic as it was before - to me or to others.

I'm a normal! Just like you! Mostly.

I digress like it's my job. This post is about me being slightly cowardly to admit my sexual preference. Maybe because I think people will view me differently. I'm afraid my female friends will be uncomfortable around me. I swim in internalized homophobia toward myself, assume what bigots would say about me and I stew in it.

How long have I explained my attraction to women as limited, when in fact it's not? When I was in my early teens I lusted after female actors but excused it as just a few exceptions to my heterosexuality. I tiptoed on the line of expressing my desire for women but avoided admitting that I actually maybe wasn't straight.

One night a few years ago I was out drinking with a friend, and I felt comfortable enough with him to say it: I'm bisexual.

My coming out story isn't revolutionary. I don't talk about my bisexuality much. Maybe I'm afraid that people will pull away from me. Which goes to show you what an incredible idiot I can be, since that's not giving people in my life very much credit. Am I out to my family? Not explicitly. My sister yes, but beyond that I do fear some judgment. Since I have the aforementioned heteronormative privilege, I suppose I feel I can fly stealthily under the radar.

That's perhaps the exact opposite of pride.

I feel guilty for not owning who I am, that somehow it must seem like I'm ashamed. Maybe that's part of it, but I don't think so. I feel like people won't believe me. That they'll think I'm some sort of imposter and that I don't belong - in the straight community or the LGBTQ+ community. I'm in some sort of bisexual limbo. Who's gonna pick me for their team? Anybody? Am I picked last or not at all?

I am afraid to publish this. I'm afraid that it will change how I'm viewed by some people, though I hope I'm wrong. Staying silent isn't the answer. Visibility is important, and my identity it important. I've already told you I was crazy, now you know I'm queer.

I guess my general, unapologetic attitude is take me as I am or leave me.

My first Pride a few years ago with my lovely Jess,
who takes me as I am <3