TW: self-harm, body image.For various reasons, lately I've been thinking about (and look at) my skin. It has its problems, but it's changed a lot since my last post talking about it (why on earth did I not title that post "Counting Scars" and then write a full out parody of that song? Probably because that would be a little too morbid and offend someone, right).
I have many scars that are still visible. Although, as I mentioned in that post years ago, sometimes I'm not sure how visible they actually are and if they're recognizable. I've had people ask if they were self-inflicted or the result of cats. I did use cats as an excuse for a while, and I do have a few marks from an upset or overexcited cat encounter. But those marks don't generally last.
But now those aren't even the scars that I see first. Now I see the chicken pox scars, the acne scars. The one weird chicken pox/abscess combo right in between my breasts. An odd dry patch of skin on my arm that I have no idea when popped up. Probably some form of skin cancer but it's fine.
As many of you know, I'm doing my master's thesis on burlesque. This involves actually doing burlesque, which is absolutely amazing and I love it so much. I haven't performed yet, but just being a part of the world is incredibly inspiring and uplifting. For a significant amount of time each week I get to watch beautiful people be confident and love their beautiful selves.
Every once in a while (okay, most of the while), that little voice inside my head will whisper, "Why are you doing this again? You aren't beautiful like these people. You've got that weird scar between your boobs so your boobs aren't even pretty. Don't get me started with all the other imperfections."
I never used to care too much about my skin or scars that I didn't put there myself. But when I started doing burlesque, I began to notice my skin more. I used to have remarkably clear skin, but that's no longer the case. Who knows why. Stress, age, Florida. All of the above. Whatever the reason, my skin is far from perfect and my realization of that fact has given extra fuel to that little voice inside my head that likes to tell me about my shortcomings.
This voice usually has plenty of things to talk about as my anxiety makes me a perfectionist but my depression makes it hard to give anything more than the bare minimum. I like to think I'm immune to insecurities about my appearance because I've lived with my body and my appearance for so long that I shouldn't care about it anymore. Obviously that's a lie.
During one of my very first rehearsals in the burlesque troupe, one of the members was teaching us newbies how to pose in a "sexy" way. She said that you have to learn how to love at least one part of your body, and then you touch that part of your body and emphasize and show off how much you love that part of your body. Her instruction struck a chord with me and also made me acutely aware of how detached I'd become from my body.
When I was young, people always told me I had nice eyes. Kind older ladies would say they were beautiful, my best friend said I had the best "puppy dog eyes," and I was proud of how dark and big they were. Then one girl said I had "poopy brown eyes" and with the laughter of the whole English class, I lost confidence. Unrelated, I've always had a hard time making eye contact. Whether this is related to social anxiety or autism, I don't know. Probably a combination of everything. But essentially I learned to not love my eyes. Besides, how exactly are you supposed to sexily pose with your eyes (don't answer that, I'm sure it's possible)?
In the ballet world, I always had good feet. I have a high arch and good toe articulation that's useful for pointe work. So...every time I want to show off my favorite body part, I just need to take my shoes off, lift my leg up, and show the crowd how I can point one toe at a time. "There's always a foot fetish in the audience," as another burlesquer once said...
When I think about loving my body, I automatically think about it doing (or not doing) certain movements and positions. I had a pretty good arabesque at one point - but that's not really something you pop up in a sexy pose. I wowed many a modern class (and teacher) with my flexible hips (my hips frequently seize up, so I had to constantly stretch them out and keep them flexible), but what am I supposed to do, drop down into a cow face pose and wink at the audience?
Without actual dancing, I can't think of a body part that I actually like. I can think of plenty of reasons why I don't like every body part (and most of those reasons are linked to what it can't do or how injury prone it is). I don't like standing still because somehow it seems more vulnerable than moving. It's an invitation for the audience to stare closely at my body. It would seem like moving (dancing) would be more of an invitation and more attention grabbing, but it's never felt that way for me personally. Dancing, I always feel like there's a purpose other than my body. There's a story to tell, or a theme, or a concept. It's not about my body. Standing still and letting the audience look at whatever part of my body they want to feels far more vulnerable. It brings my physical existence into the equation.
In all of my years of performing and dancing, it was always easy to leave myself offstage. I could compartmentalize myself and only bring certain aspects onto the stage. Only the parts that were relevant, that were safe, that were acceptable, were displayed to the audience. When I was performing someone else's choreography, I embodied their topic, their character, their goal. I created a version of myself that only included what was relevant to that piece and I brought it to the stage. When I choreographed and performed my own work, I focused on one tiny aspect and shut out every other part.
For various reasons, I haven't been able to do that as easily as I used to. When working on my thesis, I find it very hard to separate the different factors and aspects of myself. I have to sit and deeply think about why I'm reacting a certain way. Is it because of my ballet training? Is it because I grew up in a church? Is it because I'm on the autism spectrum? Is it because I'm asexual? Which part of my identity is relevant here and how the heck do I keep the rest out?
I'm not entirely sure this is healthy. I would love to be able to fully embrace my entire existence - all factors, all aspects, all elements, physical and mental. I shouldn't have to constantly split myself into pieces and try to figure out which piece or how many pieces are acceptable for different situations. But I keep doing it over and over again until sometimes I can't remember who I am and who I want to be.
I may have gotten a little off track here. But if you've read even one post on here before, surely you expect that.
I've wanted to write this post for a while, but I kept putting it off because if I'm not writing my thesis, I shouldn't be writing anything. I don't have the time or energy to devote to anything else. But...this is my thesis. My thesis is about me and burlesque (and some other things). I've gotten too wrapped up in trying to be appropriately academic and write everything in a certain way and forgotten that really it's all about me. And this is how I work through issues about me. I have to write it out and follow my rabbit trails and act like I'm being inspirational and spouting words of wisdom and truth. And then I have to publish it because I just love attention, obviously.
Florida frequently makes me feel like I'm not good enough. Whether it's roommates or classes or allergies, it feels like there's always something out to get me. It's hard to not take things personally. And...man, it's just hard. I was going to say some more specific stuff but then I got overwhelmed with just how hard existing is these days and how pointless it all seems. The planet is going to die anyway, so what's the point? Gender is a social construct, women and people of color and minorities have been systemically oppressed for millennia, why bother trying anymore?
But...I will keep trying. I know other people keep trying and keep fighting and keep believing. It is hard.
Today I had a bad anxiety attack and did everything I could to break my skin with my fingernail, because I make a point to keep sharp objects out of reach. It is hard. But...I am still here. And I haven't broken my skin in a very long, long time.
--Dexter
ps. Even though "it has nothing to do with my thesis," I do want to start writing more posts again as well as go back to making videos. There's a lot of topics I know a lot about and want to spread awareness on (mental health, asexuality, gender, etc.). If you have a specific question or topic you'd like me to talk about and/or look into, let me know. Maybe you're genuinely curious and have a hard time finding answers, or maybe you aren't able or comfortable talking about it yourself. Either way, I am here for you.
