Exorcising The Ghosts Of Relationships Past

* Long read - you were warned!

Hello there!  It has been sooooooo long since I have written a personal post.  So long since the words have floated around in my head until I had no choice but to filter them down through my fingers on to the page.

As ever, I can articulate so much better when the words flow through my fingers as I type; but tonight is the first time in a long time that the words have danced, demanding to be set free.

So what am I talking about tonight?  The ghosts of past relationships as a fat, insecure woman.

Looking back at past experiences with men in my life is hard for me to remember.  The experience that I have had with relationships is little, the heartache, a lot.  I have been hidden, I have been put up with; I have been the dirty secret and the one that was so nearly "the one", had it not been for my body.

What I have come to realise over the past few months is that although I have been treated badly in the past, I have allowed this to happen to me.  When society and your peers tells you that as a fat woman, you are not good enough, eventually you believe it yourself. So you overcompensate.

When the #MeToo movement was starting to take shape, I shared some of my own experiences of what happened to me in the past.  I was a fat teenager, but I knew that the actions of those that touched and grabbed at me were wrong.  I knew that the words said to me were unacceptable.

I railed against them, but my words were ignored; my experiences were explained away,  when telling others as "wear a baggier school shirt" (I never wore a tight shirt by the by).  "You have large breasts, what can you expect" (erm basic respect?).  A look up and down at my body and a "you should be grateful for the attention" (fuck you).  A  particular teacher comes to mind.

Those last words shaped me and the experiences that I have had with men for a long time.  Not just from them, but people close to me.  That same message. Be grateful.   Take what you can get because you are fat.

So I allowed transgressions to happen to me because, maybe, I should be grateful.  I allowed myself to be hidden because who wants to have a fat girl as a girlfriend, right? Be happy that he likes you in private.

My love life up until this point has been a car crash, with me shaving off pieces of myself and handing them over on a plate trying to find that love, that attraction; so that someone, sometime will think that I am good enough for them.  That I deserve more than to be hidden or been embarrassed by.

The problem with shaving pieces off yourself is that eventually, you start to forget who you really are. When you give so much of yourself away each time with no return, you lose a piece of yourself.

Society and other elements made me feel like I was not good enough.  It is only now that I look back and realise that, as Eleanor Roosevelt so eloquently put:

No one can make you feel inferior, without your consent

I have always avoided men that found the larger woman attractive.  I did not understand how they could think of me as more than a fetish.  I had no clue or realisation that someone could actually find me attractive, sexy.

As I type right now, I am dating someone.  We met through Tinder, on my first couple of days when I thought that I would give it a whirl.  We have been dating a few months now.  I will call him A.

With A for the first couple of months I found myself in the same familiar cycle.  The insecurities.  The wondering if he really did find me attractive.  The fear when he said that he liked larger women.  Was I just a fetish?

When you have spent the whole of your adult life with your body as the compromise, it is hard to believe that someone can be turned on by your body.

The thing is, he makes me feel sexy.  I no longer feel like that I need to give so much of myself to overcompensate for my body.  He is attracted to my body and, for the first time in my life; I believe it.

So as these new experiences wash over me, I realise that I am in no rush.  I don't feel the need to be his girlfriend.  I don't have the craving for commitment and am in no rush.  We may progress, we may not.  But I am enjoying dating someone and just, for once, having fun.  The pressure to hand myself, my heart over on a plate is no longer there.

I have no idea what will happen with myself and A.  We may date for a while and it may fizzle out.  It  may progress.  Who knows?  But what I do know is that I can be myself.  I can be goofy.  I can be silly.  Turns out, I am a bit of a tease too, which amuses me endlessly.  I can feel attractive and know that he is attracted to me.  I don't hold back on what I think or who I am.  I may even let him read something that I have written, maybe.

I feel good enough for someone now.  It is a lesson that I had to learn for myself.  If nothing else happens between A and I, that feeling will stay with me.   This thing we have is 50/50.  We are figuring each other out, having fun, enjoying each other without pressure.  I no longer feel, as I have done every other time, like I am on an audition.

We are on a dance and who knows whether it will end or whether we will continue to dance.  All I know is that the pieces of myself that I gave away are coming back to me and it feels amazing.  The parts of me I gave away, I am taking them back.  I have owned who I am for years now.  Now I own what I look like, imperfections, perceived or otherwise; and all.

He has given me the confidence in my body it is true and that won't go whatever happens, but my self worth, I finally took that back for myself.

The dating experience I am having now, I should have had so long ago.  It is only now that I realise that this is what I always deserved.  What has happened before I let happen.   That is on me.  What happens now?  Who knows.  But I sure am enjoying the experience.

Lets Talk About #MeToo

I wish I could stay that I was surprised at the allegations that have come to light in relation to Harvey Weinstein.  Disgusted yes, but shocked no.

I won't talk about the allegations made against him here given that there are potential criminal charges against him.  But I will speak about the culture that we have in society that enables, encourages and protects men like him.

A culture where women who speak out are called liars, whores; attention seekers and those that don't are blamed more than the perpetrator.  A culture where men who report abuse "Aren't supposed to talk about it, man up!" and those that don't, live in misery.

I'm a woman and as this predominantly happens to many more women than men, I am focusing on the women's side in this blog.  If you are a man who has experienced sexual assault or rape or wants to talk about the effects of what happens, write about it, I would read it, but your story isn't for this post.

The thing is, women do experience harassment, sexual  assault and rape at a far larger scale than men.  There are things that women are just supposed to accept, behaviours, actions and consequences.

We are supposed to keep silent.  

Reactions to reporting that you have been harassed or assaulted many times ends up with "It isn't such a big deal, why you making such a fuss!", "He is a lovely guy, are you sure? Maybe you misunderstood?" and the favourite of the MRA/MGTOW section of the internet: "Prove it or it didn't happen".

I'm sorry, but I do not carry a bodycam on me and cannot prove that the man last year fake tripped and fell into me, conveniently grabbing on to my breasts to "lever himself".  My life is not lived on CCTV.

When I was fifteen and two boys at school decided to wrestle me down at the bus stop after school every day for months grabbing at my breasts, my reporting it to a teacher received a look at my chest and a suggestion to wear a baggy shirt.

I stopped it myself.  How? I paid them.  I cannot remember the figure now, enough probably for them to buy a pack of cigarettes.  The thing that kills me now is that I stayed friends with them.  Society had already taught me that my large breasts were public property.  It was not their fault, it was "their hormones".

23 years later it only now strikes me that no one stopped to help me. Ever.  No one in the dozens of cars passing the grassy knoll next to bus stop on that busy road ever stopped.  People must have seen.  I guess they thought that I was "asking for it".

The hashtag #HowWillIChange was started today and whilst a few good and on the point comments were made, it was quickly overrun with angry men who missed the point completely and of course, as usual, those there just to throw vitriol at women.  Their daily game.

I have seen so many tweets saying "I have never assaulted a woman so I don't need to change".  Well done.  Have a cookie for never assaulting a woman.  But let me ask you this.

Have you ever had a friend or a family member hurl sexist slurs at a woman?  Have you been in a car and your friend has shouted out something sexual at a woman in the street?  Have you been there in a bar when a friend has grabbed at a woman's breasts for "a gag".  Have you been speaking to a male friend after a night out when he tells you that "she was totally passed out but I went for it anyway".  Have you?

If you have experienced any of these things and not said anything, not called out your friend or relative, let me tell you, you are complicit.  You are enabling the behaviour to continue.

Your silence is deafening.

 I was an early developer.  I remember being around 12 and going to a local playground.  I was on the roundabout when a group of older boys approached me.  The leader of the pack starting making sexual comments about my breasts and asking if he could "feel me up".  The other boys, whom I looked to in the hope that they would pull him up on his behaviour, looked uncomfortable, but ultimately, said nothing.

Would they have let him says those things about their sister?  I doubt it.  But whether teenage boys or older men, it still seems that a value has to be placed on a woman before she is seen as a human being.  If you have to think of a woman as someone you can relate to in order to see that someone's actions against them are wrong, you are also part of the problem.

So how do we ask men to help change this culture we live in?  Listen to us.  Take responsibility for your actions and own up to those people around you who behave in that way.  Just because he is your friend, your relative does not excuse him from common decent behaviour.

Women should not have to share their stories, like the couple of examples I have shared today in order to highlight that we have a big issue in society. 

We are not Hansel and Gretel, dropping the crumbs of our experiences on the floor until you find enlightenment.  

We have been silent.  We will not be silent any more.  You make not like it, it may make you uncomfortable.  It may make you question yourself, your actions and those of people who you know.  But we are not going away and the wall of shame that women feel about what happens to them is coming down.

Don't be that guy.  Be better.  We can all be better.