Relief
Written by Stephanie, 24I have a recurring dream that I get diagnosed with breast cancer. In the dream I decide to get a double mastectomy and I do a naked photoshoot to capture my breasts while I still have them. I wake up before the surgery actually happens. I used to think the dream was a nightmare. But at one point I realized I never woke up upset.
At my summer camp growing up all of the girls of each age group showered together. There were rows of shower stalls and everyone had a shower buddy. All of the girls stood in the aisle, sudsing up, chatting, sharing shampoo, switching in and out of the water while their buddies showered.
I have always been a little chubby – never overweight but thick enough where when I was young I couldn't share my friends' clothing, the tiny spaghetti strap tank tops and elastic shorts were always clinging to places that they didn't on the thin girls. And I was always told that if I just lost five pounds...Just five pounds. It wasn't a major flaw, I could easily attain beauty with some lifestyle changes and then I would be content. The spaghetti strap tank top wouldn't have anything to hug.
Recently my mom and I were watching a makeover show. A very petite woman said she's self-conscious about her thighs. My mom said: "What woman isn't?" I said: “I'm not.”
I started to like my body a bit more when I grew large breasts as a teenager. Finally my body was putting some of its fat to good use. Good use meaning something men would like me for.
When I became a camp counselor, a camper, age 11, asked to speak to me alone. She said she sometimes looked at the other girls' bodies in the shower. I said women's bodies are beautiful, there is nothing to be ashamed of. She asked if it meant she was a lesbian. I shrugged, maybe, maybe not – I think most people are captivated by women's bodies. Have you ever been to an art museum?
I did some nude modeling for a drawing class last year. I tried to lose a couple pounds beforehand but it didn't really work out. Halfway through the class, I walked around and looked at everyone's pieces. One of the artists asked if I acted. “No, not for years.” “But your emotion is so real!” He flipped excitedly through his sketchbook – “I loved this pose.” Another came up and said she liked the one I did before that one. She led me to her easel. Could I come pose again?
I have been five pounds lighter. I have been ten pounds lighter, even fifteen. Even then: five pounds more and I will be happy. It was never enough – I was always too much.
I took a photo of the artist's watercolor. If I hadn't known it was me, I would have said her body was beautiful.
When I wake up from my recurring dream now, I have recognized my emotion.
Its relief.