#183) I Feel Seen

It occurs to me now that my life so far can be viewed like watching the moon go through its phases.
As a child, I tried to stay in the dark. Any time that a light was shown on me made me self-conscious as a child who could not say a sentence aloud without stuttering. I sought out the shadows.
Then I went through puberty, and my round bottom became a major focal point. Males, particularly African-American males, suddenly wanted to know me. Those that had a reputation for getting to first base with my friends (fondling their tits) wanted to make-out with me and touch my butt, see it bared. (“You’ll just have to use your imagination,” I teased.) I found the attention intoxicating, hypnotizing, stupefying, fun. A sliver of light pointed my way was dizzying.
The unspoken, guilt-inducing fantasies I’d entertained since I was very young became more pronounced in adolescence. I felt like a monster, a type of werewolf who was controlled by her full moon of a tush, who dreamed of having it reddened. I had to dwell in the dark.
Simultaneously, people began thinking that I was attractive, even calling me pretty, amazingly labeling me as sexy. I was encouraged to pursue modeling as a hobby. I excelled at it, so that it became a career. A blinding light was focused on me full blast on the runway and in photo shoots. I was told that I was fantastic, but never believed these words, or believed in myself. Again, men begged for me to bare my ass, this time for the lens. (“You’ll just have to use your imagination,” I teased.) I wisely realized that it couldn’t last, that age was my enemy. So I used my savings to go to school to become a teacher.
Being a teacher in American society is truly being invisible! You work ungodly long & hard hours for little recognition. I was hired to replace a teacher who had become the school’s principal. I’ve won many awards, at the local level, even nationally, but have never once been acknowledged by this petty, big-ego-ed bitch. In almost a decade, she has not paid me one compliment! I resent her, try not to hate her, because forgiveness is a gift you give yourself. I’m fine in the dark, it’s safer there.
But now, I am being recognized for this blog. Writing, something I have always loved, have done just for me, is being praised. I feel warmed in this light. My good fortunes and popularity have waxed large at some lunar cycles, I’m sure will wane over time. I try not to let it make me a lunatic. I am still that she-werewolf. But I am reassured by the fact that now I know many others with this affliction.

10 responses to “#183) I Feel Seen”

  1. Fascinating bit of biographical sharing there with some insights that I particularly appreciate, as a photographer, as in women not believing in their own beauty. And that there’s a certain age for women when there’s no such think as unwanted male attention. Would that apply to your case, or am I reading things in that you didn’t mean.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Like nora, I also think that you are fabulous. Its hard working for a boss who is too concerned about their own position to recognise the efforts of those working for them. Indicates a pretty crap boss to me!

    Liked by 2 people

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