I have to go to acting class in drag tomorrow because we are exploring gender and the other night I dressed in my roommate’s dandy wardrobe. Felt good, I’ll tell ya that much. But alas, there were no pants that fit to be found.
I stopped buying pants a year and a half ago and it was the best thing I ever did for my self-esteem. I remember Jessica Luxery-Legay telling me that she had consciously stopped buying pants, and the relief and freedom that came from that decision was revolutionary. I felt it too, folks - and I recommend it for any of you skirty fat fellows out there who hate the misogyny and body control inherent in the production of plus-sized clothing.
I digress. Today I went shopping for a pair of trousers to complete my charming look for tomorrow and it was the most emotionally brutal shopping experience I’ve had in years. Standing in that mirror, all of my teenage horrors of self-hatred and body dysphoria came flooding back and I was in tears within two pairs of pants.
The anger and frustration I felt was challenging - and I had to go get a meatball sandwich and fries after to eat my feelings - but ultimately useful. It reminded me that this experience is rare these days. As I approach 30, I almost never actively participate in the hating of my body. Not to say things are perfect, but I practice love and gentleness, and non-judgement as much as possible, and it has changed my life. I’m grateful for that.
Here’s a big FUCK YEAH to loving my body and all the work it does in keeping me alive.