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Joey tells me that constantly, and he always has. It’s his way of appreciating a woman’s curves. I always roll my eyes and giggle, because he’s a nerd, and also because to me, I could stand to be much less dimensional. Usually I mutter something about being obese or just shrug it off. He persists and tells me that if I want to be smaller, I should do something about it, but that it’s not a big deal. That I am gorgeous. Then I get aggravated that he’s telling me to change my diet and routine, just as I am aggravated that he’s ok with how I am.
Recently, he said something about how great my breasts are. And I know they are, but once again, I shot him down, saying that they should be perkier and fuller and smaller and just … different. Better. He insisted, but I refused.
“You judge yourself too harshly,” he said.
“I’m just honest, I think.”
“Nah, you are too rough on yourself. Just let me compliment you sometimes.”
“Ok,” I answered.
“You don’t have to come back with ‘no, not really, I’m fat’ or anything else.”
I apologized.
“Don’t be sorry,” he replied, “It’s ok.”
“Self deprecation is not attractive, I know,” I said.
“Well, it isn’t,” he agreed, “but I understand. Just try to embrace my respect a little.”
I said I would.
“I need for you to trust that I love you exactly as you are.”
“I do. That makes me happy.”
“Good,” he said. “You don’t have to make excuses. I think everything about you is completely sexy.”
I believe him. I’ve been my own ideal of perfect before: I had the perfect body, unmarred by pregnancy and childbirth. I made money using my sex appeal for a living. I’ve had men fight over me, I’ve had women push their boyfriends for staring at me a little too hard, and I’ve even stopped traffic a couple of times. But I have never, ever felt sexier than I do now, because of him.
They way he looks at me, the desire and love in those bright blue eyes. The way he touches me, sometimes gently, sometimes roughly, always perfectly. How he can’t keep his lips and hands off of me, no matter what, no matter where.
It feels so good to be with someone that doesn’t "accept" how I am, but loves it. I need to love me too. I need to realize that if this absolutely gorgeous man of mine finds me irresistible, that I must not be too bad. I still must work on myself, because no matter how he feels, until I am smaller, and fitter, I will not be completely happy with me. The self hatred I feel though? It has to stop. So, it will.
