Light!!!!!

Hi  Maggie -

I say identify him. Don't protect the rapist. Women aren't protected. I remember incidences like this at school, and we all had to be so careful because we might destroy a budding young career, we might destroy his life. No one ever says that about young women. Instead, we wonder what we did to deserve it.

Identify him. Make sure everyone knows.  Tape him bragging and share it publicly - do something that can not be silenced.

Slime exists in the dark. It slips away, evades, remains shadowed...Turn on the LIGHT!

I just read an article a few hours ago - it was about a young woman who was raped by a fellow student.  He was bragging about their hooking up.  She was nauseated until the thought struck her - what if he doesn't know it was rape.

We've been hearing that No means NO! But that has to change, and it seems it is, to Yes means YES.  She was wondering if he took her immobilization as consent. But that is what happens to prey animals in nature.  A predator grabs them, they freeze.  That is what happened to me. I said no,  I protested, then I froze. I was trained to be prey. That was a lesson of being female in our home.

Be good.

Be nice.

Be obedient.

In the absence of a clear and conscious and sober and straight YES...it means NO!

I couldn't sleep last night, and so I tried to find my hiding little girl.   I can't find her - but more about that in a minute. What I found was two big green slimy disks - one in each inner thigh.  They are holding my fat on my body, helping me to hide.

I asked why in my thighs...

...because this is the part of myself that I hated the most.  I always thought my thighs were too fat.  I always felt that I was ugly, deformed, not good enough.

Then I remembered two different lovers at two different times telling me that my body was perfect, except the tops of my thighs.  At the time, I accepted their critique. I agreed.  I was imperfect.  I was not good enough...But last night, finally, after all these years, I got mad. Really?  Men are allowed to criticize our bodies, comparing us to an airbrushed babe in Playboy and finding fault with the real woman willing to climb into their bed?  And you know what? I never commented on their bodies.  I never compared.  I never looked for imperfection. I never thought I had that right.  Neither of them were perfect.

But they were men, and so it never dawned on me that there was anything inappropriate with this exchange. I was just grateful that they accepted such imperfection.

So I laid in bed and thought about my imperfect thighs. I thought about all of the things I have lifted, carried, endured - because of the strength in my thighs.  My thighs are strong. They are still strong.

In the shower this evening, I looked at my thighs and told them they are beautiful.  And a voice in my own head asked me if I knew what I was saying. YES!  My thighs may still not belong in Playboy, but who cares. My thighs are beautiful!

And so I am working on it. The work stems from righteous indignation.

But the root might still be- I'm not good enough to be loved.

So, I was looking for the little girl, hiding, waiting...just waiting.

And I remembered an incident.  When Dad left for the extended stay you mentioned above, we moved north again, and moved in with Grammy.  Aunt S was married and lived nearby.  Aunt T was on the west coast. Aunt J was in school, as were both uncles I believe. Uncle J was home a lot.  His ex frequently took the younger two kids and went to some relative far away. So Cousin M was living with Grammy too.  She watched him while his dad was earning his master's. It was chaotic.

One evening Grammy made chili for dinner. I think she miscounted the bowls. I came to the table and I was the one who didn't get a bowl. Uncle J told me there was not enough food for me, I wasn't going to have any.  A healthy kid who trusted family would have laughed.  I started crying and left the dining room.  I went upstairs and got under a bed and sobbed. It took Uncle J quite a while to find me, but when he did he pulled me out and talked me into coming back downstairs.

I didn't want to. I didn't want to eat. I was so humiliated I just wanted to be left under that bed.

So that's who I am looking for. Someone who has an extraordinary ability to be very, very quiet.

Still having fun with love as chocolate pudding every night!!!

Love and hugs from Clare

It really amazes me that I could look at my young and healthy body, and only see two pooches on my inner thighs. It is incredible...and heartbreakingly sad.