At sleepaway camp, I overheard girls commiserating about having sucked in their bellies for so long, trying to look thin, that they no longer remembered a normal belly posture. I overheard boys discussing which of the girls they would hook up with. One boy remembered that I was a girl, but they all agreed, non-maliciously, that I was in a different category.
My peers actively craved sexual attention, but I was happy dodging it. When it came up, I often appreciated it, sometimes greatly, but I tried to dismiss it. Now, this year of grief, fear and isolation has awakened a deep embodied insight about my psyche. But it’s actually totally mundane and should not be surprising.
I want to feel sexy.