I’ve been told time and time again that my body was perfect. I always knew when they said that they meant “perfect” by their own standards of the sense. Being a woman, I have always been aware of my flaws, as they have been pointed out to me many, many times by others. So here I live, struggling between the idea of being perfect but not being perfect. Being beautiful in the eyes of some but not of others. When the judgement fell harshly, it would tend to rip at the soul, creating an ache that would take lots of inner conversations to quell.
Over time, I began to understand that loving my body was the only way to go. Never relying on other people’s ideas of what is beautiful, but relying on my own. Lucky for me, I’m curvy, with large natural breasts, a round booty, slender legs, (slender enough for me) strong arms, an arched back, and some of the most beautiful feet I thought a person could have. Not to mention, I have a symmetrical face, and after braces, there was no stopping me. “Of course I’m perfect,” I thought. I have the dream girl’s body. But I was never cocky about… or was I?
I’ve had this idea in my head that my soul got lucky. That it found the right body to use as a tool to survive in life. I learned to use my body to make money, seduce men, create a confidence that would surround me with the friends of my choice. I became a stripper, I “modeled”, I danced in music videos, background for movies, had stories written about me. I hit the jack pot in my mind. But, my spirit, my soul has always felt that I’m more than just a pretty face and a hot body. We all are more than our outer shell, our looks do not define us. Sometimes it takes others longer than others to realize this after being “acclimated to society.” This is something I’ve known now for a very long time.
On December 18, 2018, I lost all five toes and part of the ball of my foot on my left foot. They got smashed between a car and a “Buddy” Scooter in a driving accident. My life was instantly changed. It’s funny how just a second of time can change so many things. I was whisked away to the the hospital in the most expensive ride of my life. I was awake for the whole thing and never passed out from pain or fear. Somehow I knew I would be losing my foot. Without knowing the damage, I knew I was fucked. Later I found out that my toe bones were dismembered from my foot in the accident itself and were only being held on by muscle and tendons. There was no saving my toes.
So where does that leave me? A woman who’s confidence is as strong as the bluffs of Mount Everest? The understanding that my soul is my spirit, one that travels, learns and literally exists to exist. And my body is a tool, one that my soul has been placed into to play with. Sitting in the hospital, I’m looking at my hands, at all the scars. I have scars from cooking, creating and playing with my cats. I have a scar on my face from playing baseball with my family that one summer day in Chicago. I have scar tissue in my left thigh from the time I fell down the stairs in Scotland. And now I’m missing part of my left foot from riding one of the most glorious machines I’ve ever had the chance the ride through the streets of Hollywood. Those moments on my scooter were pure bliss and I wouldn’t change it for the world. Sitting around doing nothing to me sounds trite, snobby and just plain boring. I understand now how much our bodies are meant for running, jumping, playing, swinging, flying! This will not deter me from trying more things. If anything, I’m more brave now and understand the risks more.
And yes, I am perfect. We all are perfect just the way we are. Even when we change unexpectedly, without our permission. It’s unfair how much judgement by society is put on our bodies, our faces and how we look. We were not meant to live under such illusion. That looking perfect means that you are somehow better than other people. From a very young age, we are taught about what is normal. But this is a world where everything is weird, isn’t it? We are taught that we should think a certain way, live a certain way and treat others a certain way based on their status in society. I believe this is wrong. The word “classy” drives me nuts. The idea that if you live on the streets you are less than is painful. If you have money and flit around the globe you’re bigger and better? I’ve met more interesting people who are poor than are rich. I’ve met rich people who understand sharing more than some poor. These divides are superficial. We are all just souls and energy, manning the bodies that we’ve assigned ourselves to learn more, to play and to tinker with formulas. I hate to tell you, there is nothing more to it than that.
Inhibition does not live in my heart. Modesty has no place in my world. Fear of anything gets pushed out of my brain as soon as it tries to enter. Fear is the hardest one to combat. Everyone around us is fearful, everything we do in society is based on fear. If you can fight fear, you can do anything your heart desires.
I’ve been asked by a family member why I’m so “sexual” at times. I’m guessing she meant my online profiles ( FB, IG). With emotion, I told her it was to help others feel comfortable with their bodies. But what I didn’t tell her is, because it’s what I wanted to. Because I thought I had something to share. Because I wanted the attention and I wanted others to want the attention. There is nothing wrong with sexuality and humans being attracted to each other. And frankly, I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of me! I’m not fearful of other people’s views on me and/or how I live my life.
Now I understand that this has all been practice. Showing off a “perfect body” a very capable body is easy. Now it’s time fight the fear, and show the imperfections. It’s time to show the mangled foot. It’s time to show the struggle of walking again, and of dancing again. Things won’t be as easy for me as they once were. I want to share that journey so that others who don’t have the mental strength can perhaps gain some from me. Because if I’m not giving back to the world, what the hell is this all for? I’m not here for me. I’m here for the experience, the good, the bad, the ugly and the magnificent. Through this life I will fight fear with my imaginary shining, gold sword like the viking warrior queen I believe that I am. I relinquish all my fear! I welcome this new chapter into my life with open arms. And when my foot is healed, I will show it to you so you can see what perfect looks like.