Oh boy, y’all. Mama is riled up. I have something to say about being the tortoise who works so hard to gain self acceptance and live in her own reality. Sometimes other people are casually cruel and mean and give you no credit because they only live in their shallow world of traditional, generic beauty. Sometimes, what you have done, what you are, your journey, is still not quite inside the borders of what society drills into us as acceptable and lovable and fuckable.
Age and physical beauty are huge, dark hurdles women must come up against every day. We fight ourselves, the voices we have inside ourselves that say we aren’t good enough to be loved. The truth is that even if you get closer to “ideal”, when you are flying and feeling your highest, best self, someone will always try to knock you down. Someone will look at your heart and body and mind and only see the outside and find you squishy and soft and instead of knowing your strong, infinite softness is sexy and unlimited in it’s ability to receive care and give comfort and pleasure, he will find it off-putting and foreign and feel like he has an ownership of your self worth. He will offer to engage with you in spite of your deep, ancient beauty instead of because of it.
And to this, we say no.
We, the soft, curvy, strong, voluptuous, Rubenesque-bodied goddesses, we epically fuckable women, decry your modern aversion to our pulsing, aching, fleshy hotness. We refuse your mansplained ideas of what feels good and looks good and tastes good. Because, shallow, boring men, you don’t have a fucking clue how to really please and satisfy our dark desires. You mistakenly believe that somehow when your attention is lavished on us, that you are doing us a favor, because we are alone and needy and desperate for your crumbs of attention.
Let me set the record straight: We don’t want to fuck you. The curvy, dark, slutty, vixen contingent says an easy “No thanks, ignorant friend.” We don’t have time for your bullshit ideas about beauty and sex because we are too busy loving our bodies, delighting in living inside them, and giving ourselves intimately, intellectually, emotionally, completely, to souls who gaze upon us with the adoration and expertise we require. We are worshipped by those who know that pleasure and ecstasy and intimacy are built in the mind and electrified in the skin, that there is no perfect physical “type” that can fulfill true romantic and sexual oblivion. Those who know, they receive the gift of our adoration because they find us delicious in every way, flawless, and therefore we cannot help ourselves. Because they deserve it. And more so because we do.
If you want to be adored by women, put her in a soft cocoon of your adoration and love. Stop trying to make us all the same, and stop imagining that some impossible body will make you more of a man. Accept her as she accepts herself. Love her without condition. Your reward will be that you will ride on the wings of a butterfly, if she chooses to let you.
You’re fucking welcome.