insecurity

Body “Imperfections” Are Part of What Makes Sex Hot

Kate Sloan

Content note: body image, internalized fatphobia, etc.

 

When I was younger, I was often horribly self-conscious about how I looked during sex. I’m sure many of you can relate.

I was terrified of my belly or thighs looking “too chubby” during sex, and paranoid about certain angles emphasizing a double chin. I fretted about lighting, preferring to be seen as little as possible during the act. I shaved almost every part of my body, very carefully, before every date that I thought might end in sex – and if I later noticed a patch of hair I’d missed, I felt deeply embarrassed about it, like my sexual partner du jour would definitely have noticed this oversight and would have thus judged me as having failed at femininity.

I know a lot of people feel this way, especially women. Porn is often blamed for the high standards we hold ourselves to, but I think the entire media apparatus is really at fault here – from women’s magazines that rate celebrities’ “beach bodies,” to airbrushed and gorgeously-lit sex scenes in movies and TV. There’s a lot of messaging out there which seems to suggest that only conventionally attractive people deserve sex (a standard that often ends up being fatphobic, racist, transphobic, and ableist in its execution). It’s no wonder so many of us are nervous about being seen naked.

And sure, not all of us have Kardashian curves, a J. Lo butt, or Emma Hix feet, but it ultimately doesn’t matter, because imperfections are part of what make sex feel so exciting, so raw, so human.

I love tracing my fingers along a partner’s body and feeling their softness, moles, hairs. I love being able to kiss and compliment parts of a partner’s body that they’ve felt insecure or uncertain about. I love feeling someone relax when they truly absorb the idea that they are safe – that I’m not going to make some snide comment about their shape, or criticize their grooming habits, or walk out in disgust. And I also love when partners take the time to ensure that I, too, can relax in that way. Relaxation is really important for arousal – read Emily Nagoski’s excellent book Come As You Are for more on why stress is the ultimate libido-killer – so anything we can do to help each other chill out will make the ensuing sex much better for everyone involved.

 

I may not be able to erase all your insecurities in one fell swoop (trust me, I wish I could!), but I do want to offer some actionable advice for those of you who are often distracted and derailed by bad body image thoughts during sex. Here goes…

Ask for the reassurance you need. This is easier to do with established partners than new or one-off partners, but it can be really helpful either way. Try saying something like, “Hey, I’m feeling kind of self-conscious about my [belly/thighs/hips/etc.] today – can you give them a little extra love?” I have been lucky enough to have several partners who would take this kind of request as an opportunity to convey their desire for me both verbally and physically (e.g. by kissing the area[s] in question), which has really helped me.

Reflect on how you feel about your partner’s body (or how you have felt about past partners’ bodies). Odds are good you weren’t obsessively cataloguing and judging their every flaw. In fact, in many cases their so-called “flaws” may have been super hot to you. Well, other people may feel that way about your body, too!

Wear something you feel sexy in. There’s no rule that says you have to get naked whenever you have sex. There’s lots of hot lingerie and loungewear out there, for instance, that you can easily wear while fucking (although you may need to get creative in order to do so, like by pulling the gusset of your underwear to the side). In some cases this can be even hotter than being naked!

Consume different media if your current “media diet” contains a lot of conventionally perfect bodies, which, odds are, it does. Seek out porn and other sexy media from creators whose bodies look more like yours. Over time, this can shift the way you see your own body.

Seek therapy if you can. You deserve a life of wild, unabashed joy, in and out of the bedroom, and unpacking your body image issues with a professional might just be the way to achieve that. I know it’s helped me a lot.

 

Have you ever struggled with body insecurities during sex? How do you deal with it?

 

This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

4 Reasons You Shouldn’t Be Jealous of Your Partner’s Sex Toy(s)

Kate Sloan

Having written about sex toys for as long as I have, one of the most common complaints I hear from readers about toys is that they’re nervous their partner will react poorly to them. Either they already know their partner has a bad attitude about toys because of previous conversations they’ve had, or they just have a sinking feeling about it, and are therefore hesitant to incorporate their favorite pleasurable gizmo(s) into sex.

I also sometimes receive questions from the jealous partner themselves, wondering why they’re experiencing such irrational jealousy and resentment about their sweetheart’s Fleshlight or realistic dildo. After all, a lot of times, when we feel intense distress about someone else’s otherwise harmless choice, it has to do with underlying emotional issues that we may or may not be aware of – and when we’re not aware of them, it can seem like there’s nothing we can do about them.

With that in mind, here are 4 reasons you shouldn’t be jealous of your partner’s sex toy…

 

You bring so much more to the table than a dildo or stroker!

It might sound obvious, but it’s true: you are a human being, and so you are automatically capable of doing many, many, MANY things that sex toys alone cannot do! And I say this as someone who is, obviously, a huge fan of sex toys. They can’t whisper cute/hot things in my ear. They can’t remember what I like and do more of it (seriously, even the A.I.-influenced toys that claim to be able to do this are nowhere near human-level good at it). They can’t tap into the fantasies and archetypes that turn me on and play those out with me. They can’t replace the feeling of a warm, soft, touchable person in bed next to me. They can’t make me laugh, or hold me when I cry.

If you truly believe that a sex toy has the ability to replace you or upstage you, I would (lovingly) invite you to consider that you might have some self-esteem issues that are worth working on, so you can be happier in and out of the bedroom. (More on that in the last point on this list.)

 

You can use sex toys with/on your partner!

Toys are just tools. As the classic analogy goes: if you use a hammer to build a house, it wasn’t the hammer that built the house, it was you! And by the same token, if you give your partner pleasure and/or orgasms with toys, it was still you who did that. You just used a tool to do it – and using tools and technology is quite literally part of what makes us human, part of what separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom. You wouldn’t consider yourself a failure for needing to wear bifocals, or for cooking on a gas range instead of over an open fire, and for the same exact reason, you shouldn’t consider yourself inadequate for incorporating sex toys into sex.

Besides which, using sex toys together can be a really fun adventure, and a way to infuse some novelty and variety into your sex life.

 

Pleasure is a good thing!

You want your partner to experience pleasure, right? Because you like them (maybe even love them) and want them to be happy? And it’s very likely they want the same for you.

More pleasure is a good thing, period. Sex is (for most of us) primarily about pleasure and intimacy. Sex toys can help you in your pursuit of those goals.

If you find that maintaining a sense of yourself as sexually indispensable is more important to you than your partner’s pleasure, well… I think that’s worth examining.

 

Slapping a Band-Aid on your insecurities isn’t the same thing as addressing/healing them

I’ve learned this in so many different areas of life. Our fickle human brains like to come up with “logical” solutions to emotional problems. This is why, for example, some monogamous straight people will insist that their partner “can’t” have any friends of the “opposite sex,” because to do so is perceived as a threat to the relationship even when it’s obviously not. These people are trying to “legislate away their feelings” through rules and “boundaries,” in the same way that a person might “forbid” their partner to use sex toys in order to avoid facing the insecurities and anxieties that sex toy usage might bring up for them.

What I have learned is that you cannot outrun or “logic away” these issues. They will keep coming up, in various different forms, until and unless you face them and heal them. And when the issues in question are related to your partner’s rights and freedoms, oftentimes they will manifest in very problematic and perhaps even abusive ways.

The fact is, you don’t get to impose coercive rules on your partner just because you are insecure and anxious. Your partner may want to help you with your insecurities and anxieties, which would be very nice of them, but they are not obligated to, especially if the “help” you are requesting amounts to them making their life smaller, less joyful, and worse just to appease you.

But here’s the really important point – and I say this with love: you will be happier if you address your issues head-on, rather than trying to re-route your discomfort onto someone else. Whether through therapy, journaling, cognitive-behavioral exercises, Internal Family Systems exercises (which have helped me enormously with my insecurities and abandonment anxieties), or any other method of investigative self-reflection, it’s important to figure out what you’re so afraid of, why you’re afraid of it, and whether your fears have any basis in your current reality. More often than not, these types are fears are founded on false beliefs you’ve picked up from past experiences and/or cultural influences, and you don’t need that shit floating around in your brain – it’ll only cause you pain, and cause your partner(s) pain by proxy.

You deserve to live a life of happiness and pleasure, and so does your partner. And that’ll be much easier to achieve once you truly believe, in your very bones, that you are worthy, you are enough, and you have more to offer than a phallic piece of silicone.

 

This post contains sponsored links. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Do Dildos Feel Better Than Dicks?

Kate Sloan

There are many annoying questions I face on a regular basis as a result of being a sex toy reviewer. One of them is, “So you just get paid to masturbate all day?” (Hahahaha, no.) Another is, “And your spouse is okay with that?!” (Um, yes; it’s part of why they married me!) But that second question is usually just a precursor to a third, even more irritating question: “So what’s better – a dildo or a human dick?”

Trust me when I say that this is like asking if a cold bottled Coke is more delicious than a hand-mixed cocktail, or like asking if I’d rather watch a movie cozied up at home with loved ones or tilted back in my chair at an IMAX theatre, or like asking if I’d prefer to see Shakespeare in the park featuring local actors or Shakespeare performed in a high-budget movie starring Anthony Hopkins. Which is to say… there is (for me at least) no clear, definitive answer, because comparing the two in the first place is an erroneous thing to do. They are simply not comparable. Each exists to address a particular mood, or need, or whim. I wouldn’t say it’s a choice between “apples and oranges,” exactly; it’s more like the choice between a fresh juicy apple pulled straight off the tree or a simmered and spiced apple crumble prepared by a skilled chef. It really just depends on what you’re craving.

Dildos can hit some spots dicks can hit, and some spots they cannot. Dicks are warm by default, unless you’re dating a vampire; sex toys are not, though you can pre-warm them if you want to. Humans can cuddle you, talk dirty to you, make you feel loved and appreciated; dildos simply can’t. You wouldn’t ask a human being to punch a nail into a plank with their bare fist; you’d use a hammer. Likewise, you wouldn’t use a hammer to play the piano (I fucking hope); you’d ask a human, one with graceful fingers and a musical mind, to play instead. Hammers and humans do not have the same skillset, and neither do dildos and dicks. It’s a fool’s errand to expect one to be able to do all the things the other is capable of.

I’ll say, too, that this question – “Are dildos better than dicks?” – is posed almost exclusively by people who apparently haven’t realized you can combine sex toys with human penises. Sex toys are still too often framed in mainstream sexual discourse as something a person (typically a cisgender, heterosexual woman) uses alone, often as a direct result of finding human sexual partners unsatisfactory or unattainable.

But this just has not been my experience of sexuality at any point in my life, whether I’ve been fucking men, women, nonbinary people, or some combination thereof. I’m deeply turned off by people who find sex toys threatening or distasteful, so the people I end up sexually entangled with are usually quite enthusiastic about incorporating toys into our play, particularly since I have so many of them. I would say sex toys are a part of literally about 98-99% of the sex I have these days – and rather than ever being a replacement for a partner, they tend to supplement and complement a partner’s skills, making touch more pleasurable and orgasm more attainable.

In every case, my partner is still present and engaged in what we’re doing together, so it would be inaccurate to say that the toy gave me an orgasm when in fact it was the toy in my partner’s hand that did so – or the toy in my own hand while my partner provided the psychological context that enabled me to get off. In many cases it doesn’t even matter if the toy is automated, as with vibrators with pulsing patterns, pressure-wave toys that suck my clit in rhythmic waves, or thrusting dildos like these ones; it was still my partner’s presence that made the sensations hot in a different way than they are when I’m alone, and so it was inherently a partnered experience even if my partner played a role closer to narrator or observer than direct participant.

My inboxes and DMs will probably always abound with messages from people who envy their partner’s toy(s), and people who resent their partner’s toy envy. While it’s tempting for me to tell the latter type of person to “dump the motherfucker already” because toxic views of sex toys are a red flag in my mind, I know that not everyone feels that way, and some people are willing to put in the work to help a partner become comfortable with toy usage. For those people, my advice would be:

  1. Emphasize what your partner brings to the table. Make it clear to them that they are providing value that goes above and beyond (or is simply different than) what a toy can offer.
  2. Emphasize, too, your own pleasure and how much you desire it. Presumably one of the things your partner finds hot about fucking you is seeing/hearing/feeling you experience pleasure, and toys can amp that up. (If they’re not that interested in your pleasure, well, maybe they’re not a good person for you to be sleeping with.)
  3. Maybe don’t skip straight to huge, hyper-realistic dildos if your partner is sensitive about their dick size or prowess. Small toys might be easier for those folks to handle initially. (But also, your preferences matter here too, so if you’re all about huge dildos, don’t let a partner shame you out of that perfectly valid desire.)

My hope is that toys will someday be so utterly un-taboo that they will easily become part of the sex lives of anyone who wants to use them. We’re not quite there yet, not only for the reasons outlined in this post but also for cost reasons, health and safety reasons, geographic access reasons, and more – but I’m holding out hope for shame-free, pleasurable, technologically-enhanced sexuality for all who desire it.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

A Penis Size FAQ

Kate Sloan

 

Does penis size matter?

The short answer: It matters to some people, and less so (or not at all) to others. Whatever your size, the important thing is to find a partner (or partners) who enjoy it. Those people exist, regardless of what size you are, I promise.

Longer answer: Anyone who tells you penis size universally doesn’t matter is lying to you, but anyone who tells you penis size always matters, or that bigger is always better, is lying to you too. The truth is that different people have different preferences. I know you want a simple answer, but there isn’t one, because human sexuality is infinitely vast and variable, and so are human bodies.

There are “size queens” out there, yes. There are people who are shitty and judgmental about penis size out there, yes. However, there are also people who prefer smaller dicks because they find them more comfortable, less painful, easier to accommodate orally or anally, more aesthetically pleasing, or any number of other things. As with literally everything sexuality-related, we’re all different and it’s just a matter of finding the person/people you’re compatible with.

Keep in mind, too, that the vast majority of people with vaginas don’t orgasm from vaginal penetration alone. The clitoris, not the vagina, is the pleasure equivalent of the penis – meaning that pleasure and orgasm without clitoral stimulation are about as rare and as difficult as pleasure and orgasm without any penile stimulation (i.e. certainly not unheard of, but not the default for most people). Penises aren’t generally magic orgasm-producing machines for the people you fuck them with, and that’s true regardless of their size.

 

Does penis size matter to you, personally?

Sure, in that I have a different experience with different penis sizes, in much the same way that a huge dildo feels different from a smaller one. Neither is inherently better than the other. It depends entirely on my mood, where I am in my cycle, any health issues I’m going through at the moment, which erogenous zone(s) I’m hoping to target, what fantasies I’m enjoying recently, and other such variables.

 

What does “average-sized” mean in the context of penis size? / What “counts” as big or small?

Studies generally find that the average penis size is in the neighborhood of 5 to 5.5 inches long. I would personally define a big dick as being 7” long or more, and a small dick as being 3.5” or less, but keep in mind that a) there’s nothing inherently wrong with having a small or large dick, as discussed, b) that doesn’t take girth into account and it can be a pretty huge factor (so to speak), and c) different people will define these terms differently depending on their preferences and amount of experience.

If you’re wondering if your penis is “normal,” 1) it probably is, and 2) a doctor can answer that question for you better than I can if you’re really worried.

 

Can I change my dick size?

There are surgeries for this, but I wouldn’t recommend them. They seem risky and not all that necessary. There are also pills/supplements whose makers claim they can alter your dick size, but I’ve seen zero evidence that this is at all accurate.

In my experience, usually body-related insecurities are more about your preconceptions and perceptions than your actual body (barring certain potential exceptions like gender dysphoria), so if you’re worried your dick isn’t pleasurable enough, you’d be better off upping your oral sex game and getting really good at wielding dildos than getting a dangerous procedure to alter your most sensitive organ based on your limited notion of what partners might find pleasurable.

Penis pumps enlarge the penis temporarily, and are sometimes used regularly over time to encourage penile growth, especially for transmasculine folks’ dicks after going on testosterone. I also know that there are stretching devices that can lengthen your dick when used in the long-term, sort of like braces for your penis. But again, personally, I don’t consider these measures worthwhile when there are so many other ways you can work on your sexual skill and sexual confidence.

Aside from surgery, I don’t know of any way to make your penis smaller.

 

What if my partner doesn’t find my dick size satisfying?

Well, first off, if they’re expressing that to you in a way that feels hurtful and mean, that’s a red flag. Body-shaming of any kind in a relationship is almost always a bad sign about your partner’s attitudes on bodies and their ability to be tactful and polite.

Beyond that, if you want to give your partner the sensation of getting fucked with a larger cock, you can use silicone penis extenders, fuck your partner with a dildo (possibly one that is strapped onto your body with a harness), use your fingers/hand, or use a penis pump immediately prior to sex. Check out the /r/SmallDickProblems subreddit for more advice.

If your dick is too big for your partner, you can try using an Ohnut to limit the amount of length you can fuck them with, use smaller dildos/strap-ons on them, use your fingers, use a hell of a lot more lube, do more “foreplay,” or just do non-penetrative sexual activities. (As noted above, most people with vulvas get off most readily from clitoral stimulation anyway.) The /r/BigDickProblems subreddit also contains lots of advice on this.

Presumably, your partner is attracted to you because of who you are, not just what your dick can do. If that’s not the case, you may not be in a healthy and emotionally safe relationship.

 

What’s more important: length or girth?

Again, depends entirely on the person, and may change from day to day or from moment to moment. There isn’t just one “right answer” to this question, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you, probably to make you feel insecure and/or sell you something.

Length may be important if your partner likes A-spot stimulation or cervix stimulation, for example, while girth may be important if they like intense G-spot or prostate contact. Some people may want a shorter or skinnier dick for comfort reasons, or because those can hit their spots more easily.

Hell, I’m a sex toy reviewer and thus intimately familiar with my own preferences, and even I can’t say definitively whether I care more about length or girth, because it depends on the day, the sensations I’m seeking, any health issues I’m going through, etc. Luckily, sex toys exist, so I don’t have to rely on a partner’s penis to provide any and all penetrative sensations I might be craving at any given time. (Sensing a theme here?)

 

How big does a penis have to be to hit the G-spot or prostate?

Usually about 2-3″ long, ideally with a curve (either upward or downward will work, depending on the position). However, again, sex toys are great for this. In many cases they’re better than dicks at hitting these spots. (I recommend the Pure Wand and Seduction.)

 

How big does a penis have to be to hit the A-spot?

I think a lot of people assume I am a hardcore size queen because I like A-spot stimulation, but… nah. Many partners of mine have been able to reach my A-spot easily with their fingers, including those with shorter/smaller fingers. It’s all about angling and positioning. Have the receptive partner pull their knees closer to their chest to shorten the vagina’s length, and you’ll have an easier time reaching the A-spot with your dick, your fingers, or a toy. Anything upwards of about 5″ can hit my spot just fine, and sex toys exist anyway so it’s not like a penis is the only option here.

 

Will using a dildo that’s larger than my penis make my partner leave me/like my dick less?

Unless your partner is literally only dating you for the usage of your penis, no, it’s unlikely that anything like this will happen. I know that it’s easy in a phallocentric culture to feel like your penis is the only thing tethering you to social and sexual success (whatever the hell that means), but there is more to a relationship – and more to sex – than the size of your cock, I promise.

A dildo cannot pay attention to your partner’s signs and speed up or slow down or fuck harder or softer as needed, the way you can. A dildo cannot whisper filthy shit in your partner’s ear or roleplay their favorite fantasy with them like you can. A dildo cannot hold them close after they come and make them feel safe and loved the way you can. You are so much more than a dildo, and you can do so much more than a dildo can. If you don’t know/believe that, consider working through your self-esteem issues with a therapist – you deserve to recognize your own value as a human being beyond your genitals!

 

What condom is best for my penis size?

Many people don’t know that condom fit can have an enormous impact on how pleasurable and comfortable sex is for you. I would suggest checking out the Find Your Size page on LuckyBloke for an introduction to this.

Keep in mind, when shopping for condoms, that many are labeled in misleading ways (e.g. Trojan Magnum condoms are the same size as some other brands’ standard/medium size), so looking at the measurements will give you a better idea of potential fit than the product’s branding will.

If you want a super custom fit, One makes a condom line called MyONE that seems to be the best option for people who chronically struggle with condom sizing. My partner got to try some in their size recently and really liked them; they said it felt like wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

 

If you’re accustomed to a particular penis size, is it normal to have trouble adjusting to/enjoying a different-sized one?

Sure, especially if you have very particular preferences (which isn’t morally wrong or anything, and is nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you’re not shitty about it).

Sex toys are your friends. They can help you access sensations you’re not otherwise able to access, including the sensations of being penetrated by something smaller or larger than your current partner’s penis. Don’t frame this as a shaming thing if/when you bring it up; you don’t want to give your partner a traumatic complex about their dick. Size is just one variable of sexual sensation, and there doesn’t have to be a value judgment attached to the idea of wanting to be fucked by something smaller or larger.

As mentioned above, silicone dick extenders and strap-ons can help if you really want to feel like your partner is fucking you with a dick that’s a different size from their own.

 

Does ball size matter?

To some people, yeah. Everything you can think of matters to someone. I have never really cared about this or even noticed variances in ball size all that much, personally, though.

 

Will dick size affect my experience with a stroker?

Potentially, yes. While many of these toys are at least partially flexible/squishy, some have less give than others. If you’re on the larger side, I’d suggest searching the names of any potential purchases in the /r/BigDickProblems subreddit to see if anyone there has reviewed that toy for their particular dimensions. If you’re on the smaller side, I’d recommend toys by Tenga, which tend to be snugger-fitting than, say, Fleshlights. It’s always a good idea to read sex toy review blogs, too; some reviewers mention their dick size, so you can more easily compare their anatomy to your own and find out whether the toy they liked would work for you too.

 

Do big dicks stretch out vaginas/anuses?

Temporarily? Yes. Permanently? No. These orifices are made of tissue that can expand as needed to accommodate various sizes of penetrating objects, but reverts to its original position/size in due time afterward. Anything you’ve ever heard about loose, stretched-out pussies or butts is a medically misinformed myth, usually propagated with the intention of discrediting and dehumanizing anyone perceived as being a “slut.” I know you don’t want to participate in a practice as vile and demeaning as systemic slut-shaming, so I know you’re not going to perpetuate this myth anymore. Right?

 

How does transitioning affect penis size for trans and non-binary people?

I’m cis and don’t have firsthand experience with this, but would recommend anything written by Ana Valens on the subject (for transfeminine people). As for transmasculine folks, here’s an episode of the Dildorks where I talked with Bex about his T-dick growth (among other things), and this article by Oak is also great.

 

Is there any equivalent insecurity to penis size that people with vaginas have?

You know, every time I’ve been asked this, I’ve immediately thought that for cis women (the only gender group I’ve been a part of, and thus the only gendered experience I can directly speak to), our entire bodies are scrutinized and criticized in similar ways to how penis size is discussed for cis men. Our overall body size, boob size, vaginal tightness, vaginal scent and taste, and capacity for vaginal lubrication are some more specific areas where we’re encouraged to be desperately insecure and self-hating. I don’t think these things are directly comparable because they manifest somewhat differently, but, short answer: yes. People with penises don’t have a monopoly on feeling shockingly profound shame and self-doubt about the sexual attractiveness and viability of their bodies. That widespread shame sucks, and it needs to change – for everyone, of every gender and body type.

 

What questions do you hear a lot about penis size?

Selling Nudes Scares Me, But I Do It Anyway

Kate Sloan

The first time I ever sold a nude photo wasn’t like a first kiss or a first fuck; it didn’t stick in my memory that concretely, a fully-fledged moment recalled with multidimensional sensory details. It was much plainer than that. Probably some random person sent me a DM, I pulled a list of rates out of my ass, they picked what they wanted and sent a payment, and I scrambled to snap some nervous nudes in my attic bedroom. Not exactly an auspicious start, but hey, it’s something.

Looking through amateur porn galleries always wows me. These people are so brave. I know sometimes “You’re so brave!” is slung condescendingly at people who have chosen unconventional paths, even when they’ve chosen those paths out of necessity rather than courageousness – but I really do think anyone who makes porn of themselves and puts it on the internet is braver than most of their fans will ever even realize.

I know this because my own nudes are available for purchase and it is simultaneously one of the most empowering things I’ve ever done and one of the scariest. Most laypeople’s main worry, when I mention that there is porn of me on the internet, is how it might affect my future employment opportunities, but I feel pretty firmly that that ship has sailed: I’m not going to go into childcare or politics, and I’m not trying to write for conservative publications, so on that level it doesn’t really matter that you can find pics of my genitals online.

No, the thing that still scares me most about being publicly naked is the sheer vulnerability of nudity itself. The likelihood of people saying (or thinking) mean things about my body. The way that internet commentators sometimes speak with such unearned authority that their criticisms creep coldly into my brain and stay lodged there, overriding any calming compliments from loved ones.

But as prevalent and understandable as these fears are, I also know that I have overcome them before, and I can do it again.

When I went quasi-viral a few years ago for writing an article about how some abusive men twist feminist rhetoric to get women to trust them, I was hounded by misogynistic trolls for weeks. They sent me death threats, told me to kill myself, left cruel comments for me across multiple platforms. I was scared for my physical safety. But one of the things that snapped me out of my fight-or-flight daze was seeing these men mock photos of me in a strap-on. They spoke as if this was an inherently disgusting sight, like they didn’t even need to explain why it was grotesque to see a chubby woman looking happy and confident while strapped into pink leather and wielding a glittery dildo. And I laughed and laughed, because… I looked hot in those photos. People whose opinions I actually cared about had told me so, and I thought so myself.

If this was really the best they could do – telling me I looked stupid and gross in a photo where I looked verifiably happy and hot – then they had no real power over me. They had tried to humiliate me and had failed. The spell was broken.

I was reminded of the famous Eleanor Roosevelt quote, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I have a lot of problems with this quote, most notably that it contributes to victim-blaming rhetoric when survivors get understandably upset about being objectified or harassed or assaulted. But, I do still think that your attitude about your own victimization can contribute to (but isn’t at all solely responsible for) how you end up feeling about that victimization. And since these trolls were sad weirdos whose rage toward me was probably borne from resentments they held toward women they actually knew in their actual lives, rather than being due to anything I’d really done or said, it felt relatively easy to shrug off their bad-faith attacks once I’d seen that they really had no ammo.

I was proud of the things they wanted to shame me for. I loved the things about myself that they claimed were worth hating. My life was full of love and sex, despite their projected insistence that someone like me could neither deserve nor acquire either of those things. Their arguments had no teeth, no real impact, no basis in reality. What they were saying was far more about them than it was about me, and that had been true the whole time.

It still makes me nervous every time I hit “publish” on a new batch of nudes. But it helps to know that all the arguments I’ve ever heard for why I shouldn’t post them are essentially meaningless. I’m not trying to get an office job. I don’t give a shit about impressing misogynist trolls. No decent partner of mine would ever be threatened by me being naked in public. And most crucially of all, although I have my bad body image days like everyone else, I know ultimately – in my heart of hearts and pussy of pussies – that my body is beautiful and worth celebrating. The “someone just bought your nudes!” notifications that show up in my inbox are just one of the many pieces of evidence proving that to be so.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.