naked

the naked body is a beautiful body.

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(this picture is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. if it offends you, that wasn’t my intention.)

but to a lot of people, a lot of american people, the naked body is a shameful body. birthday suits are worn without celebration. we keep backs turned. lights down low. mirrors become things to be avoided, sleeping a thing to do clothed (well, unless you live in snow in the wintertime).

why so much embarrassment over our physical selves?

i avoided my naked reflection for years. stepped out of the shower and toweled up quick. changed in front of dressing room mirrors without long observant glances. i did not grow up viewing my body as a positive thing. just an embarrassing, incorrect thing. too squishy. too round. too wide. too much.

a year and a half(ish) ago i woke up to the insanity that was my life. the running. the broken down knees. the tears, always. the numbness. a year and a half ago i took a deep breath and vowed to love myself, to love my body. i dove into yoga. i bent and stretched, spilled and splayed in ways i never wanted to be seen. i held my breath, waited for the remarks, the “zoe, we’re offended by your body” comments. no one said anything. i kept breathing.

eventually i, the forever naked-phobe, stepped onto my mat — sans clothing. i giggled, a pre-teen once again. the brush of skin against skin was so foreign. alone, in my house, i flowed dressed in the most natural clothing i owned. at the end, as i lay in blissful, sweet shavasana, freedom tingled just beneath my skin.

i learned how to be naked elsewhere, too. one night during summer, sunk in the middle of the heat trapped in my apartment, i stripped off sweaty pajamas and delighted in the coolness of sheets against my warm skin. i never put them back on. winter simply means more blankets now.

during the summers my roommate left the apartment. for three whole months i lived alone, the small space my own for endlessly stretched out days. in the mornings, before clothes, i putted around the house nude. waking up unrestrained guarantees waking up comfortably. i promise.

the more i practiced at nudity, the more comfortable i got sitting with my own body. i felt more connected to myself. i found i liked what i saw when i took the time to look. and i find now i indulge in the naked time i do get post shower, in bed, or on my yoga matt.

if you can’t look at your body or be naked with you body, how do you expect to cultivate any sort of self-love?

nakedness is the epitome of physical vulnerability. we cannot disappear or conceal anything behind clothing, behind layers of fabric. we present ourselves as we really are — squishiness, dimples, roundness and all. all the bits and pieces we call flaws are put on display for other people. kind of terrifying, especially if you and your body do not get along.

which is why i write to you today with gentle words of encouragement. notice how often you wear clothing. notice how often you don’t wear clothing. become aware of the emotions that come up while you are naked. notice the thoughts that float up and try not to attach to them. try not to believe them. remove eroticism and just be, for a moment, in your most free physical state. see what happens. see how long you can stay undressed. practice nakedness in small doses if you’re just beginning — in the morning, at night before bed, in front of the mirror before and after showering. it’s not as scary as it sounds. really, i promise (and i don’t promise much).

lack of body confidence seriously affects lives. think about it. think about all the places you hesitate over because you question the beauty of your body. the beach. the pool. the dance floor. the bedroom. think about all the beautiful moments you forego. think about all the life you shut the door on.

body confidence does not happen over night. it takes effort. it takes consciousness. it’s a practice. which is why i am nudging you in the softest of ways towards little naked baby steps. waking up to the gorgeousness that is the landscape of your body will benefit so many areas of your life. other people already see the beauty you hold. imagine what would happen if you saw it, too.

namaste

zoe

my chakras are blocked

ever read up on chakras?

if not, i seriously recommend it. i do not really want to use this post to explain all the details of the chakras, either, as i am not a professional and i am just entering to knowledge about them. maybe one day i will go over each chakra in detail. but today i just want to talk about the seven chakras in me. more specifically, i want to talk about how blocked each one is.

for a long time i have felt numb. i find it difficult to cry, to express myself, to feel in touch with my body and with others. i do not tap into sexuality well, handle feelings appropriately, or feel centered for long periods of time. my root chakra is completely closed and, because energy travels from your root to your crown, it makes sense as to why i feel so emotionally and spiritually stagnant.

i feel unable to release emotional baggage blocking me from entering my spirituality and true place of emotional balance. i know yoga helps and i just scheduled an appointment for reiki massage therapy and charka balancing but i am at a loss as to how to further the process along. i do not know how to work on opening my blockages myself. i do know i desperately want to.

i guess i am asking for help today, for suggestions and helpful guidance. i am so very new to spirituality in general and a little less new to emotional balance. i am sending signals of help out into space right now and crossing my fingers and toes for a response. any help is appreciated, particularly if you have a deep knowledge about chakras and blockages and balance.

because i am so damn lost.

namaste

zoe

finding femininity

i cannot recall ever feeling very comfortable in girly clothing.

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since childhood, i made a home in tomboyishly loose clothing. stick me in dresses, skirts, ruffles, or lace and i squirmed. pour me into jeans, a t-shirt, yoga pants, and baggy sweaters and i relaxed. on the rare occasion i did opt to glam up a bit, i generally wound up tugging and pulling enough to change outfits altogether. the saddest part? a huge chunk of me craved the frills of a girlier wardrobe. the pieces of feminine clothing i did owe hung in my closet like lost relics. i never felt pretty enough for them.

boyish clothes provided me with a bumper of sorts. dressing down allowed me to escape the gaze of people. disguising the curves of my body let me sink into a self-imposed protective state of existence — if no one looked at me, no one would touch the body i loathed. living in oversized, less revealing clothing subdued my sexuality, kept me locked up in the body of a girl. but, at twenty-two, i am no longer the little girl i used to be. i am not the insecure seventeen year old struggling to accept her shape. i am a woman. a fully developed young woman wearing the curves of adulthood. hiding who i am becomes less of an option each time i acknowledge that i currently am residing in early adulthood.

the more i step into the woman i am, the more i sink into the femininity i tried to deny my whole life. i am shifting my attention away from jeans and towards dresses, skirts, and softer clothing. today i bought two dresses — two shape flattering dresses. i am not hiding in material any longer. i am showcasing something i love and accept more every day. the more i grow into my body, the more i grow into confidence. most importantly, however, the deeper i fall into self-love, the easier relationships and touch become.

yesterday i permitted someone to touch pieces of my body i disregard. although i expected to cringe and push the person off, i abstained easily. as much as i expected the level of attraction to dip immediately, it only seemed to go up. i felt sexy and confident as opposed to anxious and worried. the ever lovely mara reposted something the other day i really resonated with:

If someone has chosen to go home with you or share your bed, you better believe – no matter how scary – that they are well aware of who they are taking to bed. Guarenteed they already have a pretty good idea of what you’re going to look like naked. Often I think that we delude ourselves into believing that we’ve tricked someone into sleeping with use with a strategically coordinated outfit or pushup bra. Have some faith in you and your body! You haven’t tricked anyone.

(read the rest here. honestly, i think those words just changed my life).

in the end, i am only me — soft stomach, thick legs, round bum and all. i am not a woman out of magazines or television screens. but i am realizing finally that i, too, deserve love and affection and femininity because, no matter how society attempts to shape my ideas about women and our bodies, i am still just as much a woman as any woman (just like you!). i deserve dresses and skits and lace and silk. i deserve to be feminine.

the freedom i am discovering in bottomless self-love and self-acceptance cannot be compared to any single thing. freedom for the soul rarely can compare to much.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: i bought a sweet little hat today!

yes, i do feel girly in it!)

girl talk

the concept of boobs is not foreign to me.

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the idea of them being anything other than fat blobs that catch shit falling off my fork however, is something new.

early development (i.e: boobs at nine) brought me shame, embarrassment, body-conciousness, and unwanted attention. cleavage i never asked for drew in long, blantant stares, staccato honks from cars, and endless disapproving eyebrow wrinkles from teachers. oh, and detention. multiple detentions. (though, the girls with less abundance who wore equally if not more revealing clothing never got reprimanded like i did). i spent the awkward teenage years covering those suckers up. low-cut shirts stirred up too much anxiety and too many interrupted conversations. my tits were not, as they say, the tits.

however, surprisingly, the discomfort i’ve carried around since the girls’ inception has slowly faded over the past few months. dare i say it? i’m slowly gaining boob confidence. low-cut shirts present no challenge anymore. i find them as much fun as i find my curves. cleavage feels daring, sexy, and fun (three things i used to never feel).

i’m going to mention this again because i am continually baffled: sometimes, i wonder how the hell i ended up here, settled in this cushy place of self-love and self-compassion especially considering i am cushier than i’ve ever been. so often we assume body confidence leads to self-confidence. i think i am starting to believe the opposite: loving your inner self first allows you to extend said love to every inch of you, body included.

struggling against your body may infer a struggle against your actual self (i want you to understand that when i say self, i mean your inner person– your soul). why deny the one and only body you have? you’re essentially denying an extension of your (awesome) self. it matters if you love the body you’re given. that’s where confidence and comfort come from. that’s where feeling sexy comes from. embrace all the things that make you, you. realize how amazing you are and other people will, too.

now, if you’ll excuse me. all the sitting on my ass yesterday did me some good. my appetite is back! i ate pancakes for breakfast. yeeeeeeeeeeeees oh, and it’s beer fest in san francisco. and it’s sunny out. one more time: yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees.

have you ever disliked something about yourself that you now love and celebrate?

namaste

zoe
(p.s: new hair cut with curly hair.

sometimes i can’t believe i hated my hair, too!)

let’s talk about sex (and why we’re not doing it)

can we talk about something?

or, rather, can i rant a whole lot of something like i usually do?

i’ve had a lot on my mind lately in regards to sex. not gender sex, but sex sex. and how it and touch in general have been lacking from my life. the other day, the lovely voice behind disenchantED, asked us what we’ve given up because of our ED’s. i said meaningful relationships. what i really meant to say was intimacy.

i am a firm believer in the importance of sex and sexuality in ones life. i think sex and sexuality are integral aspects of happiness. without them, a fundamental piece of humanness is missing. and can i just say just how much it is missing in my life?

the moment sexuality knocked on my conscious i locked the door. in high school i avoided any sort of intimacy while hormone crazed hookups happened all around me. i listened to stories gush from friends about drunken midnight lip locking. i soaked up their hush-hush secrets while remaining detached from the vague sense of longing mingled with jealousy inching its way into my thoughts. i was missing out.

yet…

yet i swatted hands off of me. i turned off being turned on. i disregarded the boys who showed interest. the thought of touching and being touched terrified me. alongside questions of “what if i’m not good at anything?” came the truer, more accurate reasons as to why i evaded intimate moments: i didn’t want anyone discovering my body.

i’ve never liked my body. i’ve never appreciated it’s shape, the natural curves and crevasses. i’ve only ever ignored it. i’ve only ever seen imperfection. i’ve only ever seen the “needs improvement” sign flashing over my head. even during my restriction days (i am hesitant to call it anorexia despite fulfilling the qualifying markers) i felt abhorrently fat despite counting my emerging ribs in the mirror. and now, as i occupy a fleshy, foreign body i am still working on feeling comfortable.

the lack of appreciation and the fixation on the perceived “imperfections” held me back from my sexual side. i withheld because i felt hideous and unworthy. surely, i thought, no one liked a girl with an overly round stomach and big thighs. surely no one wanted to touch a soft body. clearly no guy would choose me over my tall, spindly, gorgeous friends. i tricked myself into believe that, because i am bigger, i don’t deserve to experience sex and sexuality.

however…

i am starting to understand not everyone finds thinness attractive. i am discovering the concept of varying tastes. i am finding out the number of guys who dig thicker women is a hell of a lot bigger than i ever thought. i’m learning that maybe my roundness and cellulite and softness isn’t as big of a deal as i have always assumed it was.

really though, i am seeing that none of that matters. not really anyway. the only thing that honestly matters? confidence. heaping piles of raw confidence. i am, slowly, mentally settling into the body that grew into womanhood during middle school. i’m playing a massive game of catch up. i’m growing confidence.

so yes, my eating disorder has taken a lot away from me. that’s for damn sure. but i’m taking my life back. i’m taking everything back, sexuality included. and that, my loves, is for damn sure.

have you ever held back on life because you’ve felt uncomfortable in your own skin?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: do you know how positively gorgeous you are yet? inside and out?)

(p.p.s: just as a clarification: sex and sexuality are not completely absent from my life. they exist and have existed just in very, very small doses.)