(originally posted here )
Since I wrote my little manifesto last week , I have spent a lot of time without pants on, a lot of time thinking about my body, and a lot of time simply enjoying my life.
To celebrate the last day of my pants-off experiment, I went shopping. It's been a long time since I spent any money on clothes for myself and, as the air is starting to get a bit more nippy and I'm realizing that Los Angeles "winter" clothes are just not going to cut it here in Portland, I decided to treat myself to $40 or less of brand-new secondhand clothes.
As much as I love used clothing stores, I have to admit that sometimes it's a little harder to shop at them than at new clothing stores when it comes to body image. It's really hard for me to find pants that fit the varying widths of my waist, hips, and butt, plus end up somewhere near the right length and most flattering style. At Gap or Express or some other store, I can pick from the neat rows of well-folded jeans a pair that seems most promising out of the range of sizes, styles, and lengths; they might not fit right, but at least I had a good idea what I was getting myself into. This is not so at used clothing stores. My technique is to pick as many items as I can that seem remotely promising, spend many minutes yanking them on, and try my best not to allow my self image to fall in direct proportion to how many pairs of jeans don't come up over my hips, button at my waist, cover the entirety of my ass, or generally look at all good. It's like a gauntlet where the challenge is the mirror versus my self esteem.
But yesterday was like a revelation. I tried on a ton of things, skirts and pants and tops and even a cute jacket, and felt fine the whole time. I mean, there were some pants that showed so much butt-crack that I think I now belong to the local plumbers union. There were skirts so tight I could actually see cellulite through the fabric. And there was a really cheap, really lovely Marc Jacobs sweater (only $20!) that made my already broad shoulders look about right for a linebacker. But I didn't walk out of the dressing room in a miasma of panic and self-loathing, convinced that I would fit in the clothing if only I weren't such a pathetic aberration. Instead, when something didn't zip, button, or even come up all the way over my thighs, I felt how profoundly silly it was that the amazing variety of human body types are meant to fit into so few molds. How preposterous! How very strange to feel that my body, grown by my Mother and I in that age-old way, is somehow wrong to not adhere to Mr. Levi's conception of what proportions a body should be. How very strange to think that it is my body that is supposed to fit the clothes and not the other way around.
I left with a jacket, a pair of ankle boots, a pair of blue jeans, and a renewed sense of self worth. I attribute this entirely to spending a week really living in my body. Being at home with my body when I'm at home has given me a new understanding: my body is my home, wherever I am, and I belong to it as much as it belongs to me. I am it, this is my life, and I do not want to waste one more minute hating it. If I can feel good about myself alone in my apartment, well then I'm damn well not going to leave that at the door.
When I wrote my little manifesto last week, I had no idea what it would do to me. I had no idea how unbelievably, heartrendingly kind, hopeful, and honest so many readers and commenters could be. I expected jeers and negativity but mostly apathy; I did not expect love, respect, and encouragement. More than anything, I had no idea what spending a week in my underpants would do for my body image. I've spent so much time covering up for myself, covering up my body and my shame and my embarrassment that, as a good feminist, I still have body shame. It has been shocking to me to see what laying myself bare, to the world and to myself, has revealed.
So I hope that some of you have tried to reveal yourselves to yourselves as well, or if you haven't, that you will. I worried I might only find an ever deeper abscess of self hatred and am delighted to find a wellspring of self love. I hope that, by trying this little experiment or any other, you all might find some, too.
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*takes off pants*
hehe
I'm recovering from anorexia, and for me, one of the hardest things about this is convincing myself that I'm beautiful just as I am. For a lot of people, eating disorders have a lot to do about having control over their lives. For me, having control over my weight helped me feel better and more in control of my other aspects of my life. However, I've found that loving your body just the way it is feels much more empowering than any amount of weight loss.
I'm glad that you gained a lot from your no pants week. I may try the same thing :)
After your post I started sleeping without pajama pants. Personally, I'm more into taking off my top and maybe bra after work because I feel sweaty after biking home. But no pants can be nice too.
I would live my entire life without pants if I could. That is the first thing I wanna do when I get home from work. I'll keep the shirt, like my underwear, but the pants gotta go. Big baggy shirts and no pants is an AWESOME experience. Especially in winter when you can wear those huge baggy sweaters without fearing a heat stroke. Heaven is a large squishy comforter, big baggy sweater, and a sign that says "no pants allowed." :D
That is so exciting! I know that when I started realizing I was beautiful just the way I am (which is a pretty recent development...), I felt better about life. I do something really similar almost every night. I put on a dress or outfit that I think is cute and dance around my room like a monkey for about 10 minutes. Sometimes its just in my underwear...sometimes its jeans and a tshirt, but I've been doing this little ritual for about 2 weeks now and I'm noticing that I look at myself differently!!!!