So I went out the other day solely purchase something to “rid” me of my stretch marks.
I was looking at this one particular brand because their marketing team is quite vicious. Cute packaging, adorable colors, clean, and aesthetically pleasing. Now mind you I have bought products from them before. Oils. Lotions. Even a bubble bath solution from em. I will say they are decent products. Didn’t really care for the bubble bath solution though, hardly put bubbles in the bath.
Anyway. There I am in the store looking at the shelves of products that they have. I find what I’m looking for. And I’m standing there. Doing all types of mental gymnastics and slightly wishing that an employee would pull up on me and do their best “yeah I love this, gotta sell it” spiel. I was thinking about my reasoning for buying this product. To be rid of my stretch marks.
What did I really want?
To be free of what some may call unsightly or disgusting. Mind you, no one has done that. This is all just anxiety bouncing around in my head. Anxiety bought on by insecurities. Insecurities bought on by societal pressures to fit a certain standard. Of skin. Of body. Of weight.
I’ve had stretch marks for a long time. Since middle school. I was a chubby kid and there was nothing wrong with it. I’m chubby now and there’s nothing wrong with it. Stretch marks happen when your body changes. And ain’t anything wrong with a body changing. There is nothing wrong with my body changing.
By time you finished reading those two paragraphs, I was still standing there. Taking in way more than myself. Taking in the store. Taking in the products that surrounded me. Products that somehow think they can halt or stop aging. I thought about younger me. She did everything to hide her stretch marks. Bought all kinds of products. Hid her body because she thought it was something to be ashamed of. Then I thought about present me and how I went to see Fall Out Boy wearing a dress that showed off every single stretch mark that I had.
Now that dress was my first choice, but it took a minute to relax into it. I was thinking bell bottom pants and a crop top, but I had worn an outfit like that for the summer already. This was me seeing my favorite band live! Truly a special occasion. Plus, I specifically bought lawn seats so that I could catch a vibe and not be sweaty in a mosh pit. I put the dress on and I’m looking at myself in the mirror. Thoughts of “showing too much” and being “too sexy” floated in my head. My body being too much.
I have a body. A body that is hypersexualized. I’ve had people make assumptions about me because of my body, touch my body inappropriately, and speak to me all types of crazy just because of the way I look. I thought that folks would have negative things to say about my outfit. Negative things to say about me. Pure anxiety was running through my head. Now, when I have moments of anxiety like this, I like to jump straight into aversion therapy. Aversion therapy is when you are uncomfortable, but do the thing that makes you uncomfortable anyway. It sounds scary, but it can be so liberating.
So I’m standing there and looking in the mirror at myself in this dress. And decided to go all out. I did my makeup, put my faux locs in space buns, and found the perfect pair of underwear to wear for my whale tail. I was floored to have finally found a purpose for all of my sexy savage x panties. I was so pleased with my outfit and nervous at the same time.
I got to the show early (cause duh, I’m a fan forreal) and had time to take some pictures and videos of myself. I found a decent spot to park and there was still a good amount of sunlight out. Win Win. I was able to use a parking meter as a tripod so that definitely made things easier. The show was amazing and I’m so glad that I went and wore what I did. I had a great time with friends, heard some new bands, and heard some songs I haven’t heard in years. It was an AMAZING time.
Here is the link for the dress. I’m wearing a large. Probably could have done a medium for a tight fit. Not tight but more so fitting.
Now let’s bring it back to me being in this store. After about 5 solid minutes of contemplation. I put the jar down and walked out. My stretch marks aren’t going anywhere. My stretch marks aren’t stopping a damn thing.
At times I do have *bad body days. I acknowledge those days and try to give myself grace. Trust me, I woke up and got dressed with full intention of returning home with a product to “rid” myself of stretch marks. I really thought I would come back home with something. But once I stood there looking at pristine white shelves with promises in colorful jars, I thought about younger me. All of the products I had gone through trying to hide stretch marks on my hips, lower back, and arms.
The disappointment when they didn’t go away. I had to look at myself differently. I had to be kinder to myself.
I can’t go back in time and help younger me. Can’t give any words of wisdom. But I can give myself grace now. I can meet myself with a level of understanding that I didn’t have then. I can be free in the body that I have. I can cherish and nourish the body that I have.
And I will.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! I’m grateful every time.
Today is a nice lil Sunday. I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I hope you have a chance to rest and get ready for the week, if you choose. Hell, I hope you’re doing whatever it is that you need for YOU today.
*Bad Body Days = days where I’m just not feeling it. My body isn’t a bad body.
Some Lucas life updates:
💕I’m in my second year of grad school.
💕Nezuko turned 2 in July.
💕I turned 30 in August.
💕I’m redecorating my space. Making more space to create. Getting rid of that which I no longer need.
💕Claiming the titles of ‘Writer’ and ‘Sex Educator’.
Speaking of sex education, I know we need Fetish Friday. Did you vote in the poll? It’s still up! Cast your vote and lemme know what you want to learn. You can vote through my IG story. Find it here: lingerieslayer
Thank you again for reading, thank you stopping by, thank you for making it all through this post! I appreciate you so much.
Lingerie Slayer 
Thoughts?