You told me I’m not your ideal body type and it was the BEST RESPONSE EVER.

The conversation has finally been had. You know the one. I think you’re kinda cool, do you think I’m kinda cool?


I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t sink a bit when you confessed that I wasn’t really your “preferred” body type. But it was only for a moment, fleeting, and in an instant I realized that that was the best answer I ever could have gotten from you. As I listened to you continue with the honest dialogue I began to feel fortunate for that truth too.

I probably don’t have anybody’s ideal body. Nobody is going to order up a post pregnancy C-section and surgery scarred body on their porn queue. I get it. The more I age, the more problems arise and the more beatings (pun intended) my body takes. A quick little history of my body though. A body that has carried me through and been good to me even when I’ve not been good to it. 

My arms may not be as toned as they once were. I have shoulder struggles; a daily, no, constant reminder of the one time I was a victim of domestic violence from my ex. If you only read “flabby arms” in that sentiment, I’m not interested in you anyway. One time.That’s the key. I was abused once and I walked away with my head held high and refused to become a subsequent victim. I am probably much stronger than I think.

(Thank you for reminding me of this.)

God I swear no matter how many hours I sweat at the gym I cannot get the flat stomach of pre pregnancy body. My second pregnancy, ending in emergency C-section, has completely destroyed my muscles. It’s not from lack of effort. 

But on that pregnancy: I woke up two months before my due date and something in the deepest core of my being told me something was wrong. I rushed to the hospital that morning and discovered my son had his cord wrapped around his throat. My body was choking him. There was no time for preparing me or my husband. They rushed me into the OR and the last thing I remember is the face mask coming down and the strange eyes of my doctor. My last thought was they didn’t want MR there because they knew my son hadn’t made it and didn’t want him to be present to see that. 

I won’t ever have a truly flat stomach again and I… don’t… care….

I have a living child.

And when he hugged me this morning and in his 3 year old voice told me, “Mamma, you are soooo beautiful.” I believed him.

He’s right. I am. 

Fifteen years I tormented my body. Take your pick. Cyclical years of starvation or purging. Drugs. Drink. Smoking. Unhealthy food. Unhealthy habits. A life of destruction. I’m so young but so shocked every day I wake up. Glad for another day to breathe. I frankly didn’t think I’d make it this far.

I’ve never been healthier. I’ve never been happier. I love working hard to improve myself every single day, physically and otherwise. I push myself to be an amazing woman: every day to have a more amazing body but also a more amazing spirit, and soul, and intellect too. I hope that is attractive to you. 

As my fingertips reach for the sky during my vinyasa flow or wrap around you with timid care I ambeautiful.

As my body drapes and grinds against the bench to accept Master’s strikes I am beautiful.

As I primp and prime and get ready to see the world each day (maybe even to see you that day) I know unconditionally, unequivocally, that I am beautiful.

More beautiful that I’ve ever been.

I may not be anybody’s ideal body type. But anybody would be lucky to have me as an option.

So here’s why it was the best response you could have ever given me:

1. If I’m not your preferred body type, and you still think I’m a cool chick, and I still turn you on, then that makes you a cool guy in my book. It means you really see people. That you can discern what is hot in fantasy from what is hot in reality. That you see more of people than just seeing body parts. Thank you for that.
2. You were honest with me. That is bad ass and one hellova way to have this particular conversation. It made me trust your word; believe in you. That kind of honesty is sexy as fuck.

I know this is a long winded way of getting here but your response was the best response because it created an opportunity for me to say this honestly to you.

You told me I wasn’t your preferred body type yet you can see more to me than that.

I want to tell you that you are my preferred body type yet I can see more to you than that.

We are not “only” physical appearance. Neither of us.

None of us.

Not a single person on earth gains or loses their sole value on the basis of their body. We’re all skin, bones, blood, brains that will one day be only dust so what makes us special and unique are the things unseen.

Thank you for really seeing me. For seeing that my imperfections are simply my history told. I hope you know I really see you, past the tattoos and the beard and the body.

I hope to show you soon that this perfectly flawed yet also perfectly trained and experienced body can doincredible things that may somehow make reality better than fantasy could ever be.

You told me I wasn’t your preference and it was truly the best response ever.


Kind Regards,
Mrs. Darling

Notes on Strength and Weakness

One day, Mrs. Darling, you’re going to think back to a discussion on whether you’re incredibly strong or terribly weak.
Today is not that day. Today is a cleaning day and you need to shut off your brain and enjoy the mindless peace that lives at the bottom of a scrub bucket.

When you’re ready to come back, here’s a starting place for you to get back to where you are right now.

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.
-Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum LP

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
-Washington Irving

People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain. -Jim Morrison