avatarGB Rogut

Summary

The author reflects on the journey of self-acceptance and self-love, challenging societal norms and personal insecurities to embrace their own beauty and sensuality.

Abstract

The article "The Daring Act of Loving Myself" delves into the author's personal struggle with self-image and societal expectations. It explores the internal conflict between enjoying compliments and feeling arrogant for acknowledging one's own attractiveness. The narrative traces the origins of these feelings to childhood teachings and cultural influences that enforce modesty and shame, particularly for women. The author describes the process of unlearning these harmful lessons and finding strength in vulnerability, as exemplified by posting an unfiltered photo of their belly with stretch marks on Instagram. The piece concludes with a celebration of self-love as a prerequisite for genuine partnership and the joy of sharing one's true self with another.

Opinions

  • The author believes that societal and religious teachings have contributed to a negative self-image and a sense of shame about one's body and sexuality.
  • There is a critique of the cultural double standard that praises modesty in women while also objectifying them.
  • The author asserts that self-love is not arrogance but a necessary foundation for a healthy relationship with oneself and others.
  • They express that true partnership involves mutual respect and the ability to share vulnerabilities and desires openly.
  • The author emphasizes the importance of personal choice and autonomy in expressing one's identity and sexuality.
  • They suggest that self-acceptance is a powerful act of defiance against unrealistic beauty standards and societal expectations.
  • The author shares the belief that self-love is a continuous journey that enhances one's capacity to love and be loved in return.

The Daring Act of Loving Myself

What if there is something appealing about looking at myself in the mirror and admitting I like what I see?

Photo by Diogenes Sousa from Pexels

I won’t lie. I really like it when someone calls me “beautiful.”

I love being called sexy or hot. It strokes my ego and gives me a much-needed boost. Also, when in the middle of lovemaking, my lover stops for a moment to look at me…yes, it makes me feel special.

I enjoy seeing a fire light up in my lover’s eyes and, above all, I love to know it was because of me.

But I’m Just Being Arrogant, Right?

However, whenever I think about this, when I dare picture myself as gorgeous, a little voice inside my head starts making an annoying noise. I do my best to ignore it but, after a while, I decide to pay attention. That’s when I notice these are not just random sounds. Instead, this tiny voice has a clear message for me:

You arrogant bitch!

How dare I look at myself in the mirror and enjoy the sight? How is it possible that when I wear my favorite red dress, I allow myself to feel like a goddess?

You are probably a narcissist…

I stop for a moment to consider why this heinous message keeps finding its way into my mind, and it doesn’t take me long to realize it’s something I learned…and I had many teachers.

From my own parents, who warned me not to think too much of myself, to the Sunday school teacher who told me my reputation would never recover if it became known I enjoyed filthy things like having a boyfriend. And, of course, let’s not forget hours and hours of movies and TV that let us know that a good woman is always modest and doesn’t make that much noise.

How did I allow myself to believe all of that bullshit?

Getting Rid of Bad Learnings

Well, I didn’t just allow it. Since I grew up in one of the most hypocritically Catholic countries on Earth, I wasn’t even given a choice. It was either submit or be punished, whether by actual physical discipline, by being called names, or being ostracized.

I learned to be ashamed of my big ass and my growing breasts and that if someone decided to grab them without my consent, it was because I had provoked them, not because they were assaulting me. If I truly wanted to be a good girl, I had to be humble; otherwise, whatever was done to me, was my fault.

I was just asking for it.

The problem, of course, is that sometimes I want to provoke. I want to stir a special someone’s soul. I want to watch them sweat and tremble and, above all, I love to know it was because of me.

Even when my body is not what traditional standards call a 10, I know I am beyond numbers and sizes when I look at myself in the mirror. I am comfortable in my own skin. I know myself to be sexy, and I love it.

How do I quiet that annoying voice that keeps telling me this is shameful? How do I expel these learnings from my mind?

The Lines on My Body

Recently, I posted a picture of my belly on Instagram, stretch marks, and everything. It’s something I had wanted to do for a while but had hesitated to get it done.

It just didn’t feel safe to do so. What if the sight of my imperfect skin caused mockery and reproach?

However, on that particular day, when I looked at my naked body in the mirror, the same body that somehow has had the strength to deal with everything I have put it through, I felt ready for it. So, I grabbed my phone, took the picture, and posted it.

I was blessed with kind comments, and, above all, the sight of my own belly on that screen made me feel mighty. There it was, my body, skin and all — a source of pride.

Yes, at that moment, I deeply loved myself.

To Share Life and Pleasure

I feel it is about time I acknowledged all of the layers on me. An artist, a writer, a teacher, mother, friend, partner, and a sexual being. This doesn’t make me less or more — it makes me whole.

What if there is something appealing about looking at myself in the mirror and admitting I like what I see? That I love what I feel?

Photo by the author

Don’t get me wrong. As I stated at the beginning, I love it when someone I care about showers me in compliments. But none of it will matter if I don’t believe it myself. Trying to get someone to fill up the empty bucket of my self-love seems selfish. First, I need to adore every bit of me, including my perennial flaws — the ones that make me “me.” Only then will I be a good partner, should I choose to go that way.

Still, if for some reason it turned out there will never again be someone in my life I can truly feel comfortable with, I will be enough — even if it hurts at first.

Keeping a warm body by my side only because there was no other option seems to be the worst choice. Not fair for the other person, and certainly not fair for me.

I am more than willing to love. To share life and pleasure. But it is only because every day I feel more and more comfortable in myself. So what greater act of love for a future partner than to gift them my needs, vulnerability, passions, and pleasure, not because I had to, but because they are the person I chose to be with? What greater joy than to hold and accept them, in their full expression?

I am not in search of a perfect partner; that sounds quite childish. Rather, I want an equal one. I don’t need someone who will give me happiness; instead, I prefer to have someone I can share my happiness with. Someone to whom I can whisper, “Here I am. Take me…you are the only one allowed to see the whole of me.”

So, yes, the greatest experiences of my life lay ahead of me, whether it is in good company or alone. Still, they will come only because I have embraced the arduous path of learning to love myself — of daring to call myself beautiful, sexy, and smart.

And why shouldn’t I? After all, I am.

Sexuality
Relationships
Opinion
Gb Rogut
Feminism
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