The Sex Thing
This week Group tackled the sexuality chapter of Anita Johnston’s book, Eating in the Light of the Moon. I was looking forward to this for a couple of reasons. One, I could talk about sex All. Day. Long. Ask Ellie. She’ll tell you. And second, when our past conversations have moved in the direction of sex and sexuality I’ve always been very interested to see that the folks in Group are all over the spectrum in terms are where they are at sexually. Some have no sex drive at all and haven’t had one for 20+ years. Some had a sex drive and miss it now. Some are openly confused and scared about the “sex thing” because they’ve internalized shame and guilt about enjoying your sexuality.
When the conversation first began to look at the idea of intimacy and sensuality with food, there were a lot of heads nodding in the room. I know that I’ve had more than one torrid (and ultimately unfulfilling) affair with food, and I felt such an immediate high from the closeness of eating that food and immersing myself in the experience. But I’ll tell you that what surprised me was the anorexics in the room copping to the same obsessive search for intimacy. They thought about it endlessly: when they would eat, what they would eat, eating slowly so as to drag out the experience. Restriction was still the goal, but their whole lives became centered around what they couldn’t eat, and HOW they were going to consume what they did allow themselves to eat. I realize now that I was stuck in that assumption that binge eating is my particular poison because I love food and eating so much, and anorectics must be so successful at NOT eating because they don’t love food. They hate food so they don’t mind not eating it. Yeah, that was a pretty big misstep. I wonder if anorectics actually think about food MORE than I do.
Another big topic that came up was the idea of overwhelming emotions that come up around sexuality and how to manage those. There is so much that can come up around body image and relationships, I don’t doubt that this is as big a challenge for others as it is for me. Have I ever broken down in to huge racking sobs right in the middle of some fantastic sex? I totally have. Believe it.
In an unexpected way, I think I have actually become more comfortable with my sexuality in a way that has happened independently of improvements in my body image. That is to say, as I’ve become more sexually confident my body image has improved, but the sexual confidence has way, way outpaced the body image confidence. Why is that? Some mornings it takes everything I’ve got to get dressed without a freakout, but I could talk about sex all day long. I love reading sassy sex advice columns; reading about other people’s interesting kinks and how they navigate them. I think I would be a great addition to the Smitten Kitten staff. Surely even a part-time job will get me a discount on toys and lube, right??
I think part of it is also that I have a strong feminist component to my soul. Looking at popular culture, the orgasm has been in the male domain for way too long, and that’s gotta change. Maybe I come across as agressive, but dammit, ladies, we deserve what’s comin’ to us! (Get it? =^_^=)
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I totally get what you mean about sex and body image being interconnected. I could not concieve of myself as anything other than huge and bubberous reguardless of what friends and family told me, until I realized somebody else actually truely and sincerely liked it. Only when I realized that my guy thinks I am smokin hot did I realize that there were other guys checking me out. I still think they are kinda messed up in the head, but there is no denying the boost to my ego. Sex acted like a confirmation that my body was acceptable.
The advice i always hear is “You can’t get/don’t deserve a boyfriend until you have good body image and self-esteem.” But the stories I hear are “I realized I am worthwhile/not hideous because my boyfriend thought I was awesome/hot.”
Ok! Out with it! I have a tickle fetish!
…
Yes, it’s quite different. But anyway, within the tickling community, there are many men whom I have talked with who have different body-part fetishes. The most feared of these for me was the tummy fetishists. I couldn’t imagine having a man’s hands on my jiggly, wiggly tummy! Not only that but tickling me and making me laugh so it shakes more! The horrors! But the more I discovered my fetish and met like-minded people and men who tickled me… the more I realized that they love my tickly body… and so should I! I became a Body/Fat Acceptance activisit and the rest is history.
Now, I imagine lying in my boyfriend’s lap and pulling my shirt up for him to rub and tickle my tummy and it’s wonderful.
Exploring sexuality has helped me in more ways than I can imagine… especially when it comes to loving the wonderful body I have!
That’s a great story, Lexie. =^_^= Welcome to FatGrrl!
I could talk about sex all day too (I promise that wasn’t supposed to be such a creepy way to delurk)!
What I’m slowly starting to realise (thanks in part to this post) is that I USE (as opposed to instances where I enjoy or need) food and sex in similar ways. When I am not feeling loved, I want to have sex or I want to eat. I suspect that I am a living metaphor - I am trying to PHYSICALLY fill the emotional void. It’s interesting to me that I am using food and sex to do this as these two activities have been made quite complicated for women by society.
Sorry for the essay length first post.
Brevity isn’t my strong point either, Laura. =^_^= And let me extend an official welcome to FatGrrl! Always great to have folks join the conversation.
Food is my weapon of choice these days, but it wasn’t too long ago that a compliment about my body made me feel almost obligated to reciprocate physically, as though I had to show my gratitude, and I mean really show it. Glad those days are gone.