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Let's talk about it.

A couple of hours ago, I was lying in bed with my boyfriend, making out etc, and he whispered in my ear "your body drives me crazy." 

Not only did I not respond by arching my back and grinning at him, the way I should have, but the way I did respond is just SO classic.  I sort of faux-smiled (chagrinned, as I like to call it), and said "that makes two of us."

God, what a mood killer, eh?!  If it weren't for my boyfriend's persistance I would have just given up.  And to be honest, sometimes I do. 

I don't write about sex much on this blog, I guess because it's one of very few subjects I'm not quite comfortable throwing out there into the internet, but I'm beginning to think I ought to change that.  After all, the bedroom (or the living room, or the kitchen, or the airplane bathroom, etc) is the one place where (in most cases) we can't hide our bodies behind clothes or under water. It's also one of the few places where sarcasm really doesn't lighten the mood.  Quite the opposite, in fact.

But it's still my first response when anybody compliments me on my body. 

When I was about 15 (and fat), people always used to tell me I was beautiful or pretty.  I assumed they were just looking for anything nice to say about my appearance, and I always brushed such compliments off with rolled eyes or a loud scoff.  And then one day, my older cousin, Carolen, who's a bit of a hard-ass and straightforward to say the least, got kind of pissed off at my reaction to her compliment.  She said something along the lines of "just shut up and say thank you," which, although contradictory, kind of struck a chord. 

I realized then that constant protests and "pfffffttt"s are really annoying to the people who are just trying to say something nice.  Why would they say it if it weren't true?  Do we really think they're fucking with us, or are we just uncomfortable with compliments?

So I've tried my best, from that day, not to scoff when people tell me I look beautiful.  But I simply can't get used to body compliments. 

One of the first things I can remember my boyfriend saying to me, the night we met, is "you've got a great figure."  Not only was this adorable in a British accent (fig-ah, tee hee), but it tapped right through my fake extrovert and struck me right at the fat-girl heart beating under my cleavage.  Of course I disagreed, but when he kissed me I realized, even through my drunken haze, that he wasn't lying.  Why would he kiss me if he thought I was disgusting/fat/wobbly etc?

Now obviously I didn't change completely in one long, drunken night of fun, but luckily for me he stuck around.  3 1/2 years later, I'm still making stupid comments (no, I haven't forgotten how I started this post), but there must have been some progress.  Lord knows I own a lot of undies that I would never have bought before! 

The truth is, I still don't really see myself as sexy most days.  Of course there are slinky dresses and Manolo Blahniks (on sale, but still the most expensive shoes I've ever bought) that bring me moments of sexiness, however fleeting.  But the big change has been accepting how my boyfriend sees me.  It's taken years, but I think I finally believe him that he actually finds my body sexy. 

I mean, as he always says, the proof is visible.

(tee hee)
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