I’m a bisexual atheist introvert babe living with occasionally debilitating anxiety and panic attacks. My pronouns are she/her and I believe in (and strive for) empowered people and enthusiastic consent. I’m a Lindy Hopper, event organizer, Safer Spaces advocate, and blogger. If you spend a lot of time on social media and you’re a Lindy Hop nerd, you may have read my sadly out of date blog (Lindy Hop Problems) or at least seen some of the posts shared on Facebook. I frequently forget that this is a thing that other people care about and that it’s not just entirely for myself and 3 of my friends, but I am proud of it and grateful for the platform it has given me to work on some of the real issues our community is struggling with.

2016 was a rough year for feeling sexy for me. I dislocated my knee on the very first day of the year and aggravated some old dance injuries that I thought were behind me so I spent a couple of months on crutches and the better part of the year in physical therapy. Living your life in a knee immobilizer and being unable to move quickly or put weight on one of your legs is not exactly conducive to having sex or feeling like much more than a useless least in my experience.

When I was basically down for the count with my injury, I leaned heavily on my friends, both local and long distance. I have some amazing people in my life, who supported me and motivated me and listened to me vent and I don’t know how I would have gotten through that year without them. Investing in those friendships and thinking about all of the incredible, powerful, and beautiful people I have in my life is really what eventually got me feeling sexy again. When I was down on myself and couldn’t see my own body clearly for the magnificence that it is, I poured love out on my friends and all that time I spent appreciating them and feeling that honest and incredible awe for so many different body types and aesthetics is what wound up giving me the breathing room I needed to appreciate myself again. The best thing I ever did for myself was to let go of the idea that I was a special snowflake who wasn’t like *other girls* and I’m so grateful for the many babes in my life now who remind me constantly that I’m not alone.

My boobs came in when I was YOUNG and I spent a lot of my life being sexualized without my permission or participation because I was really curvy with big boobs and a bubble butt before most of my it took me a while to get comfortable with my body for myself. I’m pretty proud of the fact that I can now confidently say that I love my tits and my ass and my curves and my thick thighs and my two little toes that curl under so you can’t even see when I bother to paint them. I love my hands and my long fingers. I love (most of) my tattoos and I love the bump on my nose and my random freckles and moles and the shape of my teeth. I love all of that because I really do just love me and that has been a hard fucking journey.

If I was writing my life story, it would be all about having an incredible love affair with myself. So much of the world is full of people or companies or media or things telling me that I shouldn’t love this stuff about myself and that I should be working on improving my clothes should create an illusion that I’m taller and thinner and I shouldn’t post pictures that admit that I have acne or scars or stretch marks or any hint of a belly or double chin. I’m still fighting those battles and I’m sure I will be basically forever but every selfie I share is a goddamned testament to the revolution that is self-love in a world where that’s really fucking hard.

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