Our Bodies, Our Sanity

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There are two things that women wrestle with: bodies and sex. Irrespective of all the body positive articles that are found, the average day will see us view idealized bodies on television shows, commercials and in magazines. We can’t turn a page in a magazine without confronting some stylized image of a female and roll our eyes. Then if we go shopping, we’re bombarded with outlandish fashion that makes us wonder where we have been for the last decade.

I do ask myself if I did, indeed, exist during a time when a size 12 was a real size 12. A recent foray in a department store saw me ask my shopping buddy if we were mistakingly in the children’s section! The clothes were miniatures and, screw it, mentioning a label, a Chloe blouse didn’t look like it would accommodate a woman with 10B breasts, never mind my tits!

With the way our bodies take precedence in advertising and fashion, life can very well mimic the title of the famous book “My Body, My Self.”

My body has always given me headaches. I’ve tried to rationalize it, evaluating it against the backdrop of the past, the types of foster parent’s I’ve had and all that, but I’m still here with the body, with the naughty body in fact. Actually, it’s a body that requires the amount of work that I don’t have the energy to offer. Well, that’s if I wanted to be a lean mean size zero Herve Leger dress wearing fuck-siren. It would take me a long time to shed every…okay…slightly wobbly bit to fit into a dress like the above two Leger dresses.

This week has been good. I’ve managed to attend the gym twice and I’ve gotten over the Christmas/New Year splurge. All the leftovers are gone: eaten and/or disposed of. There is no more wine left and I’ve gone through the Camembert cheese. Seriously though, bodies present people with the dilemma that Robbie Williams describes in his eponymous song:

All we’ve ever wanted
Is to look good naked
Hope that someone can take it
God save me rejection
From my reflection,
I want perfection.

There is another world out there with bodies that are used for education. Women’s magazines don’t provide much in that regard. The feats our bodies can perform, the physical forces they endure is better represented with an exhibition that reflects our insides for what they truly are.  Joanna Cake’s blog post, Bodies Revealed, discusses the controversial human body exhibition that displays bodies using advanced techniques that eerily present humans as the feats of biological engineering that they are and not the air brushed corporate editorial shots.

Bodies can make us feel awkward. If I have to sit there and really think about my relationship with my body, I can’t truthfully say that I’m 100% friends with my body and I damn well ought to be. I mean, my bones carry my load around. When I go for long walks or endure a body pump class at the gym, my body picks up the slack. Sure, my mind motivates me through the sweaty moments but it’s my body that, knock on virtual wood, repairs itself so I can repeat the exercises each week. I’m fine with this, but if you ask me about sex well…then I’ll have issues.

Sex and body image, body image and sex. Some positions are horrible and unflattering. I remember my thrill at buying Cosmo in my early twenties and seeing an article about flattering sexual positions. Great, I thought. Finally I’ll be able to let go. Well…all I’ll say is that Cosmo gives terrible advice. For example, they wrote that doggy style elongates the body and back. It does nothing to minimize the ass. In all seriousness, the worst sexual body moments I’ve experienced have been in, yes….the car!

Sex in cars. A lot can be said about the awkward, sweaty and risque intimacy in cars. There is nothing romantic about being cautioned by a cop or being told to ‘get a room’. One can’t blame observers for their irritation. I’m like them. I have my preferences and, ironically, I don’t like seeing certain, let’s say body types, in my face. All right! It takes a bottle of whatever is handy for me to even consider having sex in the glare of daylight let alone any light. I do it in the dark. So when I came across an online article in Esquire about how to have sex in the car, I had to check it out. Cars have been horribly awkward for me and most times, it’s not about position, it is about the size of the wretched car!

Honestly, this car sex sounds like a pain in the ass, which might be why Eric Marlowe Garrison, sex counselor and author of the upcoming The Foreplay Bible, the latest bible to include an entire chapter of practical advice for having oral, anal, and even plain, God-fearing sex in cars, encourages couples to practice in private garages whenever possible.

Now with all the environmental concern, I ask you, how can you fuck in a smart car? I don’t know of anyone who has actually tried or succeeded, but this is what it would look like:

Images: Herve Leger

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