well my my my, pass the ammunition

I went on my first vacation ever. To Jamaica. Go there.

Hot, humid, and laid back until the music starts, then you just follow the bass.

I am a large woman who shut down all the personal passion play 6 years ago and has recently been trying to convince herself that the blob she sees in the mirror is still desirable. It does not matter what others say, I patently do not believe them. I see beauty in almost everyone yet my personal landscape reminded me most of badly cooked mashed potatoes. I used to be able to get past my own skewed and patently shallow perception of myself but I had lost that ability somewhere along the way. And there were a few other things that I had lost too.

ja mon. thank you men of Jamica.

We arrived in Montego Bay on Sunday and was complimented about my size before I had claimed my luggage. Over the 2 weeks I was there I cannot count the number of times a man approached me, looked me straight in the eye and said "I like your size." The first time all I could do was blurt out - "Glad you do, I don't" which actually made him laugh out loud. Men are beautiful when they smile. And the variety - by the hundred little gods - from 24 to 45, 5'6" to 6' 2", cocoa, espresso, cafe au lait and ebony - and I still had a hard time believing them. Thrice damn North American standards of beauty - they almost made me watch a lifetime opportunity walk right on by.

Almost.

And of course the paranoia, mine own and that gifted to me by well wishing friends before I left along with the "stories" of bringing husbands home or being internationally stalked certainly added to my trepidation. When you have safe guarded a certain status for years the risk you take to let it go is HUGE!!! and scary. The what if's kick in. What if it's just a joke, game, con? What if it seems like a good idea at the time but when it gets right down to it and it turns embarassing, ugly, painful? I was having a ferocious hard time letting go of my own prejudice against mayself, but by the 4th day the person I saw in the mirror every night had started to change.

I was still large but saucy and softer around the edges, more playful and flirty than I'd been since I don't know when. I realized that the solid walk had drifted into a slower more sultry sashay and that the mirror smiled more. I began reading intention into my attire and was tremendously happy that all my lingerie was lacey and matchy matchy. Now where had that version of me been? I hadn't seen her for quite some time.

I started to sing inside and out, whenever the mood took me, do a little two foot shuffle as I crossed the lounge just for the sheer joy of it. Body size started to matter only when it became an inconvenience like a narrow chair or a ladder. I quit taking everything except my vitamins and felt even better. When a man complimented me I started to say thank you instead of looking at my feet and mumbling something unintelligible. The chin came up and so did everything else, I felt taller.

By Saturday I was more comfortable in my own skin than I had been for 20 years, and my skin was softer too, though the hair was a distinct shambles. And I started to get cheeky when the invitations came along.