femininity

This is me without makeup, my face is washed out from the flash of a webcam and is completely naked. This is how I lived my life for many years and thought nothing of it. But then the ugly monster Comparison started working it's way into my brain. There were so many beautiful and mature-looking girls around me and I started to see myself as childish and boyish. I thought I had dodged the bullet of teenage angst because this self-loathing came much later than most girls experience. Thankfully, I am confident about other aspects that make me who I am to let it be too self-destructive.

However, those thoughts still creep in. In our society, being skinny is something people literally kill themselves over. I am naturally petite at 5 feet tall and 110 pounds. But damnit, if one more stranger remarks on how skinny I am, I may lose it. It's not a compliment to me. It makes me feel prepubescent and sickly looking. My breasts are tiny. My hips don't look like they could bear a child. People often look at my wedding ring and are shocked to find out that I'm old enough to be married. I fear leaving the house with no makeup on and in jeans and tennis shoes because I know the way I'll be treated. I often do not feel feminine and sexy. I have to make an effort to look like a woman.

I have turned to Victoria's Secret to help me feel sexy. I have bought countless items from their website including form-fitting clothes and padded bras. I want to cry every time I open that package from the mail and yet another size small outfit is too big. There's plenty of room left in the bust and shirts and dresses hang off of me. When I express this disappointment, most women roll their eyes at me and say, "Oh what I problem to have! You're thin and young looking." I just want to scream, "But I want to be curvy and sexy!"

This morning I read this wonderful blog post entitled "I'll feel sexy when..." Christine talks about the struggle of thinking "if only I was this way or that way." She writes about her friend, "She doesn't walk around trying to believe she is sexy. She is sexy. I am sexy. You are sexy. There's nothing to change. You already are." I recently took some boudoir photos to send to my deployed husband. I had such a blast doing them. It didn't take long before I was comfortably walking around naked, except some heels, in between poses. I was shaking out my hair and having a great time. I was having fun in my own skin, quite literally. When I saw some of the first test shots with the photographer, I exclaimed, "Now that's a nice ass, if I do say so myself!" And then I felt my cheeks turn red. Why was I so embarrassed to let that slip? I was so used to being self-depreciating that it felt utterly awkward to verbally praise myself. Now no one likes an arrogant jerk, but it's ok to like yourself. Let me say that again: it's ok to like the way you look. It's ok to think you're beautiful. It's not cocky or self-inflating. It can be if you take it too far, but I'm willing to bet most of us don't have it in us to. It takes more effort to see the positives in ourselves than the negative.

Being a woman is so much more than being one shape or another. I don't want to try to fit myself into some mold of what Hollywood or pornography or Victoria's Secret says I should be. I don't want to feel awkward about my size because of how other people comment on it. I don't want to feel like less of a woman because I'm not wearing make-up.



When I look at this photograph from my boudoir shoot, I see someone who is sexy. Not because I'm wearing fake lashes or have my hair curled, but because I am genuinely smiling. Sure, all the pampering helped make me feel happy and confident, but what is truly sexy about this photograph is that I'm content. I'm not striving. I'm not trying to look like someone else. Maybe wide hips and ample breasts are what makes one body appealing, but maybe my flat stomach and toned arms are part of what make me attractive. Each body is different and that's beautiful, but a truly sexy woman is one who is comfortable in her body. Makeup or not, I'm still the same person in both photographs. The trick, however, is to see myself just as sexy in both.



Second photo by Lauren Coughlan

J and C Day

I answered my phone somewhere in the middle of Arizona. I was on my second day of my drive from Northern California to Texas. I was driving my then fiance's truck to his current duty station. His voice was a pleasant break to the monotony of the humdrum desert surroundings. He had proposed less than a month earlier, surprising me in California. We of course had been discussing wedding plans and trying to figure out a date that would coordinate with his hectic Army life. He didn't have official orders yet, but there was talk of a deployment in July, just 5 months away. We knew we wanted to get married soon enough that we'd have time to establish roles as husband and wife before he left. We also really wanted to have a wedding ceremony, which takes time and money to plan, so we decided to shoot for April.

His tone was business-like and direct. Coming from my easy-going guy, I knew something was up. His superiors weren't exactly being cooperative about securing his leave for April. "So I called your dad," he continued, "and he's mailed me your birth certificate and social security card so we have all the documents my sergeant said we may need." "Um... ok... did I have a say in this?" I chuckled to myself. I had never seen him like this. I'm usually the one researching, planning, and assertively making things happen. He honestly caught me off guard. It was suggested to him that we get married in a courthouse first because the Army would be more likely to grant leave for him to move his family to his new duty station than to have a wedding. However, we'd have to be legally married for them to honor me as his family. He also wanted to move out of the barracks and secure a home for us before the wedding so that we wouldn't have to stay in a hotel or temporary housing while all the paperwork was being filed. If we got legally married ahead of time, we could file the needed paperwork and he could clear the barracks and start receiving the housing allowance needed to pay our rent. Logically, it made sense and he knew it's what we needed to do. Trusting his judgement and agreeing with his assessment, I said, "Ok, I guess we're getting married this weekend!"

It was a crazy whirlwind because I was only in town for four and a half days. It was also a holiday weekend and I was scheduled to take an exam for the college nearby. I arrived late Thursday afternoon and the courthouse would be closed Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. That left only left Friday. We frantically awaited the arrival of my paperwork (which we ended up not needing). Once we got the paperwork on Friday afternoon, we headed to the courthouse. We both had brought nice clothes to change into, but figured we would get the license and then have a long wait for the judge and could change then. After we got the license, John went to the restroom and then came back to the waiting room to get the keys to get our clothes from the truck. Right as he grabbed the keys from my purse, the judge called us in. On one of the most important days of our life that would legally bind us as husband and wife, we were wearing jeans and t-shirts.

However, it didn't matter what we were wearing. It didn't matter that this is not at all what we had planned or imagined. It was a special, romantic, and emotional day. It was so intimate, literally just the two of us and a judge. I cried as I repeated those vows and John was teary-eyed, though I doubt that he'd admit it. We didn't have rings to exchange and we forgot to call our parents to put them on speaker phone. It all happened so fast, yet it was very real to us. We both respect marriage and hold it so highly We did not take the situation lightly and the fact that, in the eyes of the state of Texas, we were now one was incredibly special to us. Wedding or not, we were man and wife.

We made the decision to keep our courthouse marriage to ourselves until after the wedding. Our parents and the pastor that was officiating our ceremony knew and we wanted to keep it just between those select few. We didn't want to take away from our wedding day or face all the nay-sayers who'd certainly like to comment on our "rash" decision. It was something we knew we had to do for ourselves and we had the blessing and support of our parents; that was enough for us. However, it was incredibly difficult to keep such a big secret. I had already changed my name by the time of the wedding and was having trouble keeping track of which name to use in what situation. Even though I had left Texas shortly after we got married, there was still something very official about getting married, even if it didn't feel real yet. It caused some stress and growing pains that we weren't able to communicate with friends. It was one of the trade-offs of keeping it a secret. However, we conquered the conflicts and John was able to come home for a beautiful wedding celebration with our family and friends. With no time for a honeymoon, we headed to our new home in Texas shortly after the wedding.

As we've begun to let people know about getting married before our wedding, people have asked what date we will celebrate as our anniversary. Since April was the day when we publicly celebrated our marriage, we have decided that is when will we honor our anniversary. However, the "courthouse day" was important and special, so we're going to recognize that as well. Since Valentine's Day and the day we got married are so close together, I figured I'd let my husband off the hook and we'd combine the two into one magical, mushy holiday: J and C Day. As J and C Day approaches, I can't believe it's been almost one year since I signed my name on that court document and held my love's hands as I promised him my life. I can't wait until he's home so we can start celebrating. Here's to the upcoming J and C day! We don't expect you to celebrate with us, but if you need a reason to party, by all means, go ahead!