Stretch Marks

Posted: April 20, 2012 in otiose
Tags: , ,

I used to be so ashamed of this common type of scarring that I first started to refuse to wear bathing suits, and then shorts, and then short-sleeved shirts.
I’ve had these marks since around the age of ten. I first noticed them on my chest, and then my upper arms. Followed by my thighs. My stomach. My inner elbows and my calves. For me, these marks are essentially everywhere, ranging in size and direction, prominence and abundance.
I’ve been told that they’re the result of all kinds of faults from dietary deficiencies to excess weight to hereditary skin conditions, and I’ve been told just as many stupid ways to diminish their appearance or magically get rid of them all together.

I used to envy much larger people than I’ve ever been who somehow managed not to have nearly so many stretch marks, but I’ve grown accustomed to them. I’ve met many people of all different sizes and fitness levels that harbor secret stretch marks, although I’ve never met anyone else sporting as many as me. Honestly, I still don’t love them, but I haven’t been ashamed of them for quite some time. I’ve never bothered to do anything but hide them, and I gave up on hiding them a long time ago.

I have stretch marks, and cellulite, and wrinkles and body hair. My skin is pocked with moles and freckles and visible blood veins.
I am not beautiful, and people have commented on all of my physical transgressions from standard femininity.
People have made many callous, hurtful critiques, but they’re only able to say anything, because I will fuck with the lights on.

I have never been kicked out of someone’s bed in disgust for having these flaws, but I’ve gotten a lot of comments.

I’m okay with my imperfect body and most of the decisions I make regarding how I treat it.
I don’t want to be a man.
I don’t hate pretty, high maintenance, idealized and socially idolized women.
I am a feminist, but not a man hating sort that adopts traditionally masculine characteristics in some contradictory attempt to assert equality.
I’ve been asked repeatedly why I’m like this.

There’s just no sense in hating my body. I can’t rationalize being ashamed based on standards that undermine reality.
I am not beautiful, and I do not strive to be.

If this bothers you…don’t fuck me. Then you’re not close enough for it to matter much.
Problem solved.

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