Cameron identifies a lot of knots about self-perception and sexuality when it comes to body type, but I can’t shake the feeling she’s still trapped in a fairly narrow view of “sexy” herself. The more she says “look at America,” as though being American is somehow diseased – and in many ways it is – the more I think she’s lost anchor herself, somehow, though I can’t quite put my finger on it.
I’ve been fat for almost as long as I can remember. While it’s stood in the way of me getting the partners I might pick – I could never have any man I wanted – my feelings about my body have never kept me from bed, either. I really like men’s company. I also really like sex. So sex seemed like an optimal way to really enjoy the hell out of men’s company – as long as the men appealed to me in some typically non-sexual way, too. One mini-affair with a jackass with a really “good” body persuaded me that the mind is by far the sexier proposition, regardless of the body attached to it.
I don’t worry too much about whether men find me sexy. I live in a city large enough where if I go out in public, someone feels the need to communicate their positive opinion of my form no matter how I’m feeling about myself that day. So I do get plenty of reinforcement.
But in terms of what I’d like for myself, based on how I look in photos and my own physical comfort, I have considered the type of body I want to live in. First, I’d like more muscle tone. I’ve been ill for several years, and lost that muscularity. I’d like to get some tone, any tone at all, in my arms because the flappy thing on the triceps does bother me, and I only figured out yesterday that rather than five pound weights I need 25 pound weights for them. I’d also like more tone in my belly, and yes, a smaller belly would be very nice – especially if it’s muscular. The rest of my body, booty and all, I’m cool with.
Most of what I want is just to be healthy, and to look more overtly healthy. It’s not like the arm-flap is sufficient to drive me into wearing sleeves.