Yesterday I shamelessly threw myself at several men and got paid for it. They bought me drinks, they laughed at my stupid jokes and checked me out. They all wanted me. A man with glasses and a wry smile sat in the corner and watched. He quite enjoyed himself. All the while I was being filmed by a close friend.
True confessions of a low-budget porn star?
I was working as a casting assistant for an indie film project, and part of my job was to be the person that the actors auditioned with. The scene was a pick-up at a bar. I improv-ed that scene multiple times and everyone -- EV-ER-Y-one had a good time.
I was quite skilled at being a vicious, quick-witted flirt.
It was the topic of the day around the water cooler -- Lee was unexpectedly good at being a sexual woman.
The situation is both painful and an eye-opener for me.
I realize once again that I crave two worlds. I want to be respected and employed for my skills. I want to walk into rooms and have my co-workers think, "there's that Lee -girl. She knows what she's doing. She's got it going on as a filmmaker/producer/ writer/director/actor/etc."
But I also want to be someone that men see as desirable. And I'm not. I'm just not. I am 100 pounds overweight. I'm at best a person men talk to about professional stuff, and at worst, I am truly invisible to them.
I am overlooked.
I am treated rudely, as if I don't exist because of my size.
Believe it or not, I'm still the same person I was when I weighed 135 pounds and all the dogs were barking at my front door. I just happen to be a lot heavier now because I bear the true weight of my burdens. I eat my woes. I've emotionally eaten enough to put me very firmly in the obese camp.
And that makes me an unnoticed person.
Yesterday I had their attention on both sides of the dichotomous worlds I desire. Professionally I proved once again that I could act. I could do the work and do it so well that a room full of people were enthralled by me. And at the same time I was desirable.
This left me quite raw. My two worlds ran fully into one another and it was a powerful shock. I was acting like a woman that no one would expect dwells in my body. After all, the assumption goes, fat people don't flirt. Fat people don't pick up men in bars. Fat people don't do those things. They don't deserve it. And yet there I was, fat and flirting.
Mind you, flirting is not something I've EVER done, not as a fat girl, not as a thin girl.
I am at my best in my authentic skin. I am a vulnerable and open heart. Flirting causes my heart damage. Flirting leaves me open to barbs and rejection and rebuffs. On the other side of the coin, flirting leaves me open to one-night stands and beer goggles and the walk of shame. Flirting leaves me in a place where I can bear my heart and sole wide open and then have to pick up the shattered mess a few hours later.
I don't flirt.
But as I proved yesterday to my charming voyeur, the camera operator, and every man who came in to audition,
I am a man eater.
I am a vicious cock tease.
I know how to be a flirt.
For the past 24 hours I've felt torn and scraped.
The idea that flirting is harmless does not apply here. What happened to me was a good metaphor for the expectations we place on women. Be pretty; be thin; be willing, but not too willing; be there for me, beside me, but not separate from me.
There's a personal metaphor in play, also. I can paint myself to be what men want. I can walk the walk the men are asking me to walk. But I am certain that I will never be a fully evolved me if I turn into this woman.
It occurs to me that doing any of that crazy, kinky stuff that someone might expect after my performance as a flirt will only solidify my place as a second - class citizen. I would be placing myself in the passenger seat -- woman to serve and service man. Yet I know that my heart can be open to a man, that I can be as sexy as I feel with someone and let it be about being authentic together.
I can remove the pornography from my actions and just be graphically beautiful with someone. We can do whatever we want as long as we are authentically sharing, in the moment, a passionate physical moment, eye to eye, toe to toe.
We will not be objectifying one another.
We will not be playing a game in which there is an inevitable winner and loser.
Instead we will be dancing. We will embrace, body and soul, heart and mind. We will enjoy each other's touch and lustful grunting. We will be to one another what we cannot be to ourselves or to the pornography that we re-enact in hotels and dark alleys and the back seats of cars. We will not be the sex-full act that lacks intimacy. We will be the intimate action that is beautiful sex.
And it will be me, the complete person I call The Thousand Pound Woman, who breaths authentic love in and out and looks into his eyes and sees that he is not simply getting off, he is having sex. With me. WITH me. It is not something he does to me. I am not a thing that is seen briefly then becomes invisible. I am real. I am authentic. And we are together for that moment, in one another's arms.
No one needs to sit by and watch. There doesn't need to be a camera. It doesn't have to be the talk of the office for a full day. It is simply lovely.
This is what a fluffer wants in bed.
I deserve that.
We all do.
#flirting #feminism #selfesteem