October 16th, 2005
I’m afraid that I’ll always be a wounded duck, and that no matter how I try to heal from the sexual assaults in my past, its stench is always on me, attracting predators. All the karate in the world can’t make me feel safe. The second somebody catcalls me on the street I have to mute the fight or flight response. Then I feel dirty, like I’ve done something wrong. As if I’ve endangered myself by looking pretty, exuding confidence, or being nicely dressed.
Yet, I want to feel beautiful and free and whole… It’s a vicious circle. I spent thirteen years hovering between a size 12 and 14 because I wouldn’t deal with those fears. I hated being big, but hated more what I might face if I left my cocoon. Now I’ve maintained a decent weight for two years, and I know I was right to be afraid. New waves of pain come… Like the layers of an onion. You peel one away and find there are countless others. You just keep slicing and let the tears fall.
Last week I was walking down the street and some guy working up on a roof saw me and shouted, “Oh, shit… HELLO!” and rather than being flattered (which I assume is the appropriate response) I found myself wishing I had a bow and arrow to shoot the bastard down. On the outside, I managed to flash a patronizing “go to hell” grin, then look straight down at the sidewalk and speed away, but on the inside the red light was flashing murder.
That weekend it happened again. I was at the mall sitting down for a snack when I felt these eyes burning holes through me. I located their source and returned his gaze with a “cut it out” squint, which he took as an invitation to sidle over and ask if I have a boyfriend. I say “I’m married.” After he followed that up with, “Of course, you are so beautiful” I found myself fighting the desire to scream:
“You are a horrifying freak! What gave you the notion that you should approach me? You are a disgusting old foreigner, and I am at least twenty years your junior, making you old enough to be my father. Yet you are such a slave to the lust of your eyes that you had to try? I wish you dead for the sake of sparing other women from this insult.”
I know that makes me sound like a stuck-up self-righteous bitch, but it’s not like I want to have these feelings… I don’t know how to change my responses. I’m not even certain what the appropriate response would be! I get offended just to stuff down the panic caused by a stranger’s desire. It always hurts unless it’s done from a place of charity instead of covetousness, and it’s easy to discern the difference.
What the hell do hot girls do? How do they deal with it? I’m your average Jane, and I can’t handle the attention. Who is raising these men? Who is giving them the idea that it’s okay to express something as crude as lust to a stranger? Recognizing beauty is fine, and it can be accomplished with as little as a smile. Save the expository for someone you actually know… At least until I work through this.
Entry Filed under: The Black Hole
16 Comments
1.
Peregrine | October 16th, 2005 at 3:59 pm
Thats ok, I got your back. Woe to the moron that does this when I’m around. Love you, sweetheart… You are my light.
2.
Lewis Moten | October 16th, 2005 at 4:07 pm
Where is that Medusa wig when you need it most? I don’t have any useful advice. I wish I did, really.
3.
The Bombshell | October 16th, 2005 at 4:18 pm
Well, fortunately I’m not looking for protection or a magic solution. Forgive me if I’ve been painfully introspective lately, this stuff tends to come in waves for me… I’ll get over it soon, promise.
I’m just trying to work through some of the issues holding me back from even greater personal success. Mulling over and analyzing them enough to create a somewhat coherent piece of writing helps me put it all to rest.
4.
Lewis Moten | October 16th, 2005 at 8:25 pm
I also find that my blog helps me get issues sorted and more understood.
5.
Deb | October 16th, 2005 at 9:48 pm
What a jerk! I’m no beauty queen, but I get that kind of stuff now and then, when I’m feeling pretty and wearing something nice. I can usually shut ‘em down with a tight smile and a “thank you” as I keep walking (or I get up and leave). Hang in there!
6.
Holly | October 16th, 2005 at 10:12 pm
I am a survivor of rape, and my family does not even speak to me! I started blogging to bring awareness about sexual abuse. It is time the victims of rape, sexual abuse are no longer the ones blamed. I hope in your journey you will truly see the beauty inside and out that comes from surviving something so terrible! All the best in the journey! May I add, what a cool blog also! Take care.
7.
Andrew QH | October 17th, 2005 at 12:35 am
1 – wow, thanks for sharing
2 – you’re no average girl, you’re the Bombshell, live and in the flesh!
3 – again, thanks for the honestness (is that a word?)
8.
Master Foley | October 17th, 2005 at 6:31 am
I bet writing this post has made you feel better…
It does for me when I got things getting me down
9.
'Chele | October 17th, 2005 at 8:34 am
…Oh god, I agree so much… Like the layers of the onion… Some thin some thick… Each a layer… Each means something… Great post.
10.
Char | October 17th, 2005 at 8:57 am
I get that same shit and I hate it. I have always wondered what possessed men to make disgusting catcalls and what not. I mean really… If someone is nice and approaches me respectfully, then I might be able to take the compliment but otherwise, hell no! Why can’t some men understand that?
11.
Kangamini | October 17th, 2005 at 10:18 am
First off – I love the ducks. You know I have a thing for ducks. Hooray! NOW. Back to the task at hand. You have EVERY right to tell these creeps to go back to the slime filled crevice that shat them out. Its ALSO very important to always have some drink with you. Water, soda, wine – anything that stains is good. Pull the movie trick and douse them with it. That should teach them. Or quit wearing your lingerie in public, you would get this less. :-* Stay beautiful.
12.
Diana Crabtree | October 17th, 2005 at 1:51 pm
I hear you! It happens rarely enough to me at this weight that I can deal with it, but I think back to slimmer times and remember being really pissed off.
Be proud that you have had the courage to reach the fearlessness and success level you are at and that you have the courage and willingness to work towards the next level.
I think an assertive “please don’t” can feel pretty satisfying, it makes him and him alone into the asshole. But hard to do when someone is shouting from a building.
13.
April | October 17th, 2005 at 2:21 pm
I totally … COMPLETELY understand what you are going through. I’m a fairly attractive lady myself, and often, I don’t dress sexy, because I know if I do, guys are going to “hollar” at me.
I warned my husband about this when I first met him, and he believed me, but hadn’t seen it until later on. Shit, guys would straight up stop their freaking cars in the middle of the street just to see if I was available… and when I told them I was married, they straight up looked at me like I was a cold-hearted bitch.
I’m a size 12 right now (155.7), and I’m trying to get down to a size 8 like I should be (145 pounds). I feel you there, I do… I used to be a size 18, can you believe that?
14.
murph1860 | October 17th, 2005 at 11:54 pm
As a guy who was raised to respect women I have to say that these men have NO right to treat women that way. Guys like that are scum and should be told so, just remember that we all aren’t masogynistic womanizing scumbags and that there are still gentlemen out there.
15.
Neb | October 19th, 2005 at 9:04 am
Hang in there. Practice your Miss Manners “frozen smile” (as it appears you already have). Here’s my question for April: how can you be 145 and an 8?! You must be really tall and thin, you sexy thing. I’m 5’8″ and 150+, and I’m a 12-14, and I’m pretty hot looking. If I were an 8 I’d be on life support! I haven’t been an 8 since I was in 4th grade!
My ideal size would be about 140, size 10-12, but even then I’d start to look thin. It must be my broad shoulders and huge rib cage…
Neb
16.
VDO Princess | October 19th, 2005 at 9:05 pm
You know what’s the worst? You may have encountered this… If I complain about unwanted el creepo attention, people tell me that I really enjoy it. They say I like being the center of attention, etc. What-frickin-ever!
You try having lecherous slimeballs glaze you with a look, and tell me you like it, a**hat! *ahem* Sorry. I got a bit carried away there.
Yeah, I know where you’re coming from, Bombshell. What gives these guys the right???