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I’m 47. Born and raised in Mexico. Born with female genitalia and raised as Female, using the pronouns she, her, and hers. At the same time, my parents told me my brother and I were just the same and I believed them. I played “as a boy” until I was 12, when the other boys decided I had become a girl. I enjoyed exploring the bodies of boys and girls, until my parents told me it was not OK, that I was too young to play that way, and especially it was not ok to play with girls. I have always admired others and felt attracted regardless the gender.
I have always liked my butt too much, mainly because my chest was flat. Much later, I realized I really have a nice butt.
But, having a nice butt was not enough to feel sexy. I was born and raised in a binary culture: smart or beautiful. I was born smart and beautiful, but raised in a family where smart was more important, and I had a beautiful cousin the same age. I felt beautiful to someone else’s eyes when I was 15, during summer vacation at the beach. I went back to classes to be smart. I wanted to find a partner and feel loved for being smart, and I always yearned to hear I was beautiful.
Being tall didn’t help, even if people say it is an advantage. "I would never date a woman taller than me."
Being round didn’t help, even if people say it is nature’s perfect body. And I wasted my skinniest days feeling fat.
I feel sexy now just by looking at myself in the mirror. By taking pictures of my whole round body. By sharing my pictures. By letting people touch me. By being naked as much as possible. By dressing exactly the way I feel every day.
I was born and raised in a monogamous culture. Hanging out with multiple potential partners was enough to be call slut, even if there was not sexual intention or contact. I had my first boyfriend at 18. He waited until I was legal, but at the same time, he was surprised I was a virgin, like Mary. We dated, we had sex, and it was expected for us to get married. We didn’t get married. It lasted four long years. When I said no more, he said I only wanted to start fucking everybody before it was time to get married. Yes, he call me a slut, and many other things. I was ready to date without labels. I met someone who didn’t like labels. And then, one day, he said four terrible words: “this is my girlfriend.” That turned my world upside-down. And we got married. When I got divorced after years of domestic violence, I decided to be celibate and not date at all. Two children kept me busy for the next ten years. The first one left at 17. The second one started planning to leave, and I decided it was time to try a partner/sex one more time. I had wondered for the last couple of years if I didn’t like sex. It was the right time and the right person, and I was ready to go back to the romantic/sexual life, and he died. I was 43 years old, and had had one boyfriend, one husband, and one weekend stand. At 46 years old, I moved to the US. At 47 I attended a Poly Speed Dating event. Four months later, I’ve had 15 partners, and lots of learning.
Being polyamorous really doesn't mean anything better than other types of relationships, because we are humans. One of my first dates, and someone who is considered a guru in the poly community, told me "I am picky" as a compliment . I felt sooo pretty and special. Now I think of it and feel nauseous. We are all special, and pretty to someone. I don't want to be called beautiful ever again. That implies a cultural construction and stereotypes. I want to see myself in the mirror and say "I like you" and sometimes " I DON’T like you." I hope I can explain this to people around me, and others through this blog. I hope we can deconstruct and start all over again. "I like you" is intimate just between the two of us. I like what I see, I like what I touch, I like what I feel, I like it now, because now is the only moment we have.
Last night P told me "I could stare at you all night." For the first time in my life, I felt it and I believed it.
NOTE: These photos were taken in one of my worst moments, when an allergic reaction covered my legs and arms with terrible hives. It was scary and I decided to like me. I caressed myself so much, thinking of all the people who have permanent skin conditions and yearn to be touched. I was worried my partners wouldn't want to touch me. They stepped up.
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