Feb 092013
 
TheFrisky
Photo: Mary Rozzi

Photo: Mary Rozzi

I shook my head recently when I read about New York Observer film critic, Rex Reed’s personal insult toward actress Melissa McCarthy.   In a review of her latest offering, Identity Thief  he called her “tractor-sized” and as big as a “hippo.”  Isn’t it interesting, I thought, that a man, who himself is part of a marginalized and often supressed segment of society wields his pejoratives so freely when directed toward another similarly ill-regarded community; the “un-thin” or “un-commercial.” The part of our population that still hides in a closet of self-hatred.   The part of our population, fearful that they won’t be accepted or seen for anything other than their physical appearance. You don’t have to be overweight to be part of our collective; you just have to have a self-loathing of some physical feature you feel you possess.  Surely, this is something that everyone can relate to at some point in their lives and certainly, unless he was blessed to have grown up amongst royalty, Rex Reed himself must have had to deal with.

And that’s when I realized that Mr. Reed‘s subjugation of Ms. McCarthy could only rex_reed.JPG.728x520_q85come from his own self-hatred.  Think of the little boy who is constantly bullied in the schoolyard.  Done often enough and without appropriate correction, that bullied little boy internalizes the hateful words spewed toward himself and those words becomes part of what I call his “life tape;” subconscious lessons we learn about ourselves from the outside world.  Negative, untrue messages like these, left unchecked become the villains to our self worth.   Sometimes making us strike out against others in order to ease the pain of our own misperceived failings.

This gave me some compassion toward Mr. Reed, for it must be monumental self-loathing that gave him license to personally attack another based on her appearance.  And to do it in a such a public forum.  Only another person who had not processed the misfortune of being so inelegantly treated himself would have the capacity to do the same thing in such a righteous and flagrant a manner.  But this incident brings up a deeper issue. Those of us with self-esteem or body issues.  Those of us who have been through years of therapy, read the latest self-help books and prayed for self acceptance at the local house of worship.  Are we ever really free from the self-judgement?  Does the “life tape” ever get erased or does the sound, though faint and scratchy, still remain buried in our psyche?

Andre MalrauxQuote

Recently, I went out to breakfast with my good friend Evan. It was a cloudy and cold L.A. day and I was feeling emotional and depressed. PMS had reared its ugly head and I was using all my emotional energy to keep the hateful thoughts in my brain from permeating my day and my time with Evan.

Evan and I dated briefly and soon decided that we made better friends than lovers (well, friends that occasionally kiss with tongue). Since then, he has been a trusted confidant and steadfast supporter … everything you want in a buddy.  Even though we were platonic, Evan always treated me like a sexy, desirable and smart woman.  It felt good to go out with Evan. We’d do movie nights and dinners and though we were chaste, he always made it known that he thought I was hot. What girl wouldn’t love that?

By the time our eggs arrived, we were engaging in silly and entertaining conversation.  Pop culture trivia, favorite movies, cool hangouts, teenage angst, and then Evan posed this question to me: “Who would you want to play you in the movie of your life?”  Hmmm, I’d never thought about it.  Evan thought for a minute and then an almost visible light bulb appeared over his head, “I got it! That chick from Bridesmaids!”

“Awww, bless his heart” I thought, “He thinks Kristen Wiig should play me.”  I was flattered. Kristin Wiig was one of my favorites on Saturday Night Live and I loved her in Bridesmaids. She was funny, talented and cute.  My heart warmed.  Evan added, “You know … that woman on Mike & Molly

My heart sank.  He, in fact, did NOT mean Kristen Wiig, he meant the very plus-sized Melissa McCarthy. In a nano-second the realization that the man across from me who has seen me naked, has equated me with a “fat girl.”  I started to cry.

Photo: Mary Rozzi

Photo: Mary Rozzi

Now let me be clear, Melissa McCarthy is every bit as cute, talented and funny as Kristen Wiig, however Melissa McCarthy happens to be a woman of size.  I was angry with myself for being so upset. I was a self-proclaimed, body & sex-positive advocate.  One of my biggest causes has been for women of all shapes and sizes to integrate self-esteem and realize their inherent sexuality (and worth) regardless of shape or weight.  Yet, here I was, apparently feeling slighted that Evan viewed me as a “fat chick.”  He immediately felt horrible that he made me cry and I was more than ok with that.  I was offended and hurt and my ego was bruised.  Evan back-pedaled, and in an effort to stop my tears he grabbed my hands across the table and said he thought of her because she’s so “funny and sexy and pretty.”  “Oh you did not,” I snapped.  “You thought of her because she’s big. I’m not as big as that!”  Evan was speechless. I groaned and excused myself to go to the bathroom to gather my fat self.

I stood in front of the streaky diner mirror and reviewed myself in vile self-loathing.  I felt ugly.  I felt worthless and I felt like a fraud.  I was embarrassed that I had automatically reacted this way when being compared to an extremely talented woman who happens to be fat.  Closing my eyes and holding onto the sides of the sink with my head hung low I took some deep breaths and started to do some quick inner self-examination.  “What are you really feeling? Where is it coming from?  And is it true?” I asked myself.

The first thing that entered my mind was that I was feeling shame … Indignant, unlovable, undesirable and unworthy.  I immediately remembered all the boys is elementary and middle school that commented on my big butt and preferred to date the tanned, athletic surfer girls to the pale, soft theatre-nerd that was me … ahhhh, that’s where it was coming from.  I lifted my head and looked in the mirror again.  “Is it true?” I asked myself.  I squinted and took a long breath.  From deep within my self I heard a tiny, barely audible voice say “No. It’s not.”  It surprised me that even after many years of criticism from the opposite sex and myself,  that this little voice could even be heard.  I guess the 20 years of therapy had sunk in.

I could feel the truth of the little voice.  I could understand her intention.  The reality is that I really am beautiful regardless of the size of my hips.  I have had proof of this on a subjective level from ex-lovers and boyfriends but more importantly I’ve had proof of this by what I saw in myself.  For in that bathroom, looking into my mascara-stained reflection, I realized that even though my ego had a flashback to old feelings and modalities that I had identified with for so long  … that in this diner bathroom feeling pre-menstrual, emotionally taxed and having just had a surprising crying-jag, I came to more fully understand in that moment that as bad as I felt at the time, I still felt sexy.  I did!  I couldn’t believe it.  It was possible to be healing an old wound while at the same time recognize a newly realized truth.

I re-joined Evan at the table, refreshed and much more cogent than when I left.  He was a puppy with his tail between his legs until I explained the catharsis I just had.  Evan’s body un-tensed and he became energized, jubilant and seemed oddly proud that he had something to do with this “satori.”  Nothing had changed.  To Evan, I was always smart, funny, sexy … no matter what size I was, that’s how he saw me (subjective) because that’s how I saw myself (objective).  I saw myself that way because of a lot of good therapy, hard work and self-inventory that proved to me that those features were indisputable.

Nothing’s perfect, there will always be people (and sometimes even myself) who don’t see that in me (subjective) and that’s fine, it doesn’t mean it’s less true (objective).  And there will always be times when something someone says or does will trigger old wounds with a repeat reaction.  But, the point is, it is just a reaction from times long gone and just like when Craig Michaels called me a “lard-ass” (subjective) it has nothing to do with who I really am (objective).  Who I really am is a woman with flaws, but those flaws don’t make me any less worthy or any less lovable or any less beautiful or in Ms. McCarthy’s case any less talented.  It’s those flaws that make me the special package that (at least when I’m not PMS-ing) I realize I am.

Which brings me back to shaking my head as I read Rex Reed’s review of Melissa McCarthy’s physique.  I’m human, I can’t say I don’t harbor some displeasure toward Mr. Reed, but it’s more like the exasperation you feel toward a child when they throw their Spaghettios across the room for the third time. You can’t dislike a child for his actions because – he’s just a child … he’s not working with fully developed facilities. I feel the same way toward Mr. Reed. After reading his review I just click to another screen and remind myself of a quote by French writer Andre Malraux “The attempt to force human beings to despise themselves is what I call hell.” In my perception, this must be the place that Mr. Reed wrote his review from. I just hope that in the future he might move to a brighter location.

Photo by Gene Reed

Photo by Gene Reed

As a writer, Elle Chase (Lady Cheeky) has been featured on Fleshbot and is a regular contributor to the online magazine EvolvedWorld.com. Elle will soon have an erotic short story appear in the upcoming Rachel Kramer Bussel anthology The Big Book of Orgasm (Cleis Press, Sept 2013) and an article in next month’s issue of Corset Magazine on pornography vs. erotica. She has also won the Domi Dollz True Tales of Erotica competition, and will be seen in the upcoming CBC documentary Women and Porn. Elle will be speaking as part of a panel of women on Sex and Body Image at CatalystCon: Sparking Communication in Sexuality, Activism and Acceptance in Washington DC, March 17, 2013.
Twitter: @Lady_Cheeky | Facebook: The Lady Cheeky Fan Page |  Website: www.LadyCheeky.com  | LinkedIn: Elle “Lady Cheeky” Chase

Feb 092013
 
TheFrisky
Photo: Mary Rozzi

Photo: Mary Rozzi

I shook my head recently when I read about New York Observer film critic, Rex Reed’s personal insult toward actress Melissa McCarthy.   In a review of her latest offering, Identity Thief  he called her “tractor-sized” and as big as a “hippo.”  Isn’t it interesting, I thought, that a man, who himself is part of a marginalized and often supressed segment of society wields his pejoratives so freely when directed toward another similarly ill-regarded community; the “un-thin” or “un-commercial.” The part of our population that still hides in a closet of self-hatred.   The part of our population, fearful that they won’t be accepted or seen for anything other than their physical appearance. You don’t have to be overweight to be part of our collective; you just have to have a self-loathing of some physical feature you feel you possess.  Surely, this is something that everyone can relate to at some point in their lives and certainly, unless he was blessed to have grown up amongst royalty, Rex Reed himself must have had to deal with.

And that’s when I realized that Mr. Reed‘s subjugation of Ms. McCarthy could only rex_reed.JPG.728x520_q85come from his own self-hatred.  Think of the little boy who is constantly bullied in the schoolyard.  Done often enough and without appropriate correction, that bullied little boy internalizes the hateful words spewed toward himself and those words becomes part of what I call his “life tape;” subconscious lessons we learn about ourselves from the outside world.  Negative, untrue messages like these, left unchecked become the villains to our self worth.   Sometimes making us strike out against others in order to ease the pain of our own misperceived failings.

This gave me some compassion toward Mr. Reed, for it must be monumental self-loathing that gave him license to personally attack another based on her appearance.  And to do it in a such a public forum.  Only another person who had not processed the misfortune of being so inelegantly treated himself would have the capacity to do the same thing in such a righteous and flagrant a manner.  But this incident brings up a deeper issue. Those of us with self-esteem or body issues.  Those of us who have been through years of therapy, read the latest self-help books and prayed for self acceptance at the local house of worship.  Are we ever really free from the self-judgement?  Does the “life tape” ever get erased or does the sound, though faint and scratchy, still remain buried in our psyche?

Andre MalrauxQuote

Recently, I went out to breakfast with my good friend Evan. It was a cloudy and cold L.A. day and I was feeling emotional and depressed. PMS had reared its ugly head and I was using all my emotional energy to keep the hateful thoughts in my brain from permeating my day and my time with Evan.

Evan and I dated briefly and soon decided that we made better friends than lovers (well, friends that occasionally kiss with tongue). Since then, he has been a trusted confidant and steadfast supporter … everything you want in a buddy.  Even though we were platonic, Evan always treated me like a sexy, desirable and smart woman.  It felt good to go out with Evan. We’d do movie nights and dinners and though we were chaste, he always made it known that he thought I was hot. What girl wouldn’t love that?

By the time our eggs arrived, we were engaging in silly and entertaining conversation.  Pop culture trivia, favorite movies, cool hangouts, teenage angst, and then Evan posed this question to me: “Who would you want to play you in the movie of your life?”  Hmmm, I’d never thought about it.  Evan thought for a minute and then an almost visible light bulb appeared over his head, “I got it! That chick from Bridesmaids!”

“Awww, bless his heart” I thought, “He thinks Kristen Wiig should play me.”  I was flattered. Kristin Wiig was one of my favorites on Saturday Night Live and I loved her in Bridesmaids. She was funny, talented and cute.  My heart warmed.  Evan added, “You know … that woman on Mike & Molly

My heart sank.  He, in fact, did NOT mean Kristen Wiig, he meant the very plus-sized Melissa McCarthy. In a nano-second the realization that the man across from me who has seen me naked, has equated me with a “fat girl.”  I started to cry.

Photo: Mary Rozzi

Photo: Mary Rozzi

Now let me be clear, Melissa McCarthy is every bit as cute, talented and funny as Kristen Wiig, however Melissa McCarthy happens to be a woman of size.  I was angry with myself for being so upset. I was a self-proclaimed, body & sex-positive advocate.  One of my biggest causes has been for women of all shapes and sizes to integrate self-esteem and realize their inherent sexuality (and worth) regardless of shape or weight.  Yet, here I was, apparently feeling slighted that Evan viewed me as a “fat chick.”  He immediately felt horrible that he made me cry and I was more than ok with that.  I was offended and hurt and my ego was bruised.  Evan back-pedaled, and in an effort to stop my tears he grabbed my hands across the table and said he thought of her because she’s so “funny and sexy and pretty.”  “Oh you did not,” I snapped.  “You thought of her because she’s big. I’m not as big as that!”  Evan was speechless. I groaned and excused myself to go to the bathroom to gather my fat self.

I stood in front of the streaky diner mirror and reviewed myself in vile self-loathing.  I felt ugly.  I felt worthless and I felt like a fraud.  I was embarrassed that I had automatically reacted this way when being compared to an extremely talented woman who happens to be fat.  Closing my eyes and holding onto the sides of the sink with my head hung low I took some deep breaths and started to do some quick inner self-examination.  “What are you really feeling? Where is it coming from?  And is it true?” I asked myself.

The first thing that entered my mind was that I was feeling shame … Indignant, unlovable, undesirable and unworthy.  I immediately remembered all the boys is elementary and middle school that commented on my big butt and preferred to date the tanned, athletic surfer girls to the pale, soft theatre-nerd that was me … ahhhh, that’s where it was coming from.  I lifted my head and looked in the mirror again.  “Is it true?” I asked myself.  I squinted and took a long breath.  From deep within my self I heard a tiny, barely audible voice say “No. It’s not.”  It surprised me that even after many years of criticism from the opposite sex and myself,  that this little voice could even be heard.  I guess the 20 years of therapy had sunk in.

I could feel the truth of the little voice.  I could understand her intention.  The reality is that I really am beautiful regardless of the size of my hips.  I have had proof of this on a subjective level from ex-lovers and boyfriends but more importantly I’ve had proof of this by what I saw in myself.  For in that bathroom, looking into my mascara-stained reflection, I realized that even though my ego had a flashback to old feelings and modalities that I had identified with for so long  … that in this diner bathroom feeling pre-menstrual, emotionally taxed and having just had a surprising crying-jag, I came to more fully understand in that moment that as bad as I felt at the time, I still felt sexy.  I did!  I couldn’t believe it.  It was possible to be healing an old wound while at the same time recognize a newly realized truth.

I re-joined Evan at the table, refreshed and much more cogent than when I left.  He was a puppy with his tail between his legs until I explained the catharsis I just had.  Evan’s body un-tensed and he became energized, jubilant and seemed oddly proud that he had something to do with this “satori.”  Nothing had changed.  To Evan, I was always smart, funny, sexy … no matter what size I was, that’s how he saw me (subjective) because that’s how I saw myself (objective).  I saw myself that way because of a lot of good therapy, hard work and self-inventory that proved to me that those features were indisputable.

Nothing’s perfect, there will always be people (and sometimes even myself) who don’t see that in me (subjective) and that’s fine, it doesn’t mean it’s less true (objective).  And there will always be times when something someone says or does will trigger old wounds with a repeat reaction.  But, the point is, it is just a reaction from times long gone and just like when Craig Michaels called me a “lard-ass” (subjective) it has nothing to do with who I really am (objective).  Who I really am is a woman with flaws, but those flaws don’t make me any less worthy or any less lovable or any less beautiful or in Ms. McCarthy’s case any less talented.  It’s those flaws that make me the special package that (at least when I’m not PMS-ing) I realize I am.

Which brings me back to shaking my head as I read Rex Reed’s review of Melissa McCarthy’s physique.  I’m human, I can’t say I don’t harbor some displeasure toward Mr. Reed, but it’s more like the exasperation you feel toward a child when they throw their Spaghettios across the room for the third time. You can’t dislike a child for his actions because – he’s just a child … he’s not working with fully developed facilities. I feel the same way toward Mr. Reed. After reading his review I just click to another screen and remind myself of a quote by French writer Andre Malraux “The attempt to force human beings to despise themselves is what I call hell.” In my perception, this must be the place that Mr. Reed wrote his review from. I just hope that in the future he might move to a brighter location.

Photo by Gene Reed

Photo by Gene Reed

As a writer, Elle Chase (Lady Cheeky) has been featured on Fleshbot and is a regular contributor to the online magazine EvolvedWorld.com. Elle will soon have an erotic short story appear in the upcoming Rachel Kramer Bussel anthology The Big Book of Orgasm (Cleis Press, Sept 2013) and an article in next month’s issue of Corset Magazine on pornography vs. erotica. She has also won the Domi Dollz True Tales of Erotica competition, and will be seen in the upcoming CBC documentary Women and Porn. Elle will be speaking as part of a panel of women on Sex and Body Image at CatalystCon: Sparking Communication in Sexuality, Activism and Acceptance in Washington DC, March 17, 2013.
Twitter: @Lady_Cheeky | Facebook: The Lady Cheeky Fan Page |  Website: www.LadyCheeky.com  | LinkedIn: Elle “Lady Cheeky” Chase

Feb 082013
 

575482_605174409498301_1794244505_nBy Sarah Stefanson      Originally published on AskMen.com

 

Chances are good that you are not using one of the best tools in your sexual arsenal to its full potential. This secret weapon is your mouth. We’re not just talking about oral sex here, although you should be giving her oral pleasure on a regular basis if you want to be a good lover, and we’re going to go beyond kissing on the mouth in this article, which you should have mastered by now if you want to kiss her anywhere else.

Your mouth can be applied to various other parts of her body by kissing, licking, nibbling, biting, and sucking. Anywhere you touch her with your hands will most likely feel even better when stimulated by a warm, wet mouth. When it comes to kissing women, some of their favorite places are obvious, while others are frequently overlooked.

Ears

The ears are an often-neglected area of the body that can be the site of intense pleasure for her and using your mouth is the best way to stimulate them. Gentle nibbling on the earlobe is a reliable way to send shivers down her spine, but you should also try lightly brushing your lips against her ear, which will rouse the soft, fine hairs there creating waves of tingly pleasure.

Back of the neck

One of the easiest and most dependable ways to get her in the mood is to place your mouth on the back of her neck. This works especially well if you take her by surprise. When she’s at the sink doing dishes or working on the computer, approach her quietly from behind, sweep her hair off the back of her neck and kiss her there. She will soon forget her task and want more.

Face

There are few things more personal than kissing a woman on the face. Your warm, fuzzy feelings for her can be expressed by placing sweet, light kisses on her cheeks, forehead, jaw line, even her nose and closed eyelids. But don’t lick her face. Just don’t. It’s icky, not sexy. No biting either. Her face should be treated with tenderness and reverence.

Collarbone

While her clothes are still on, one of the most intimate places you can lay some kisses is along her collarbone. A woman’s exposed collarbone is sexy and your mouth on it makes her think of your mouth on more private parts of her body. So start off with kisses there before you move on to places you can’t reach while she’s fully clothed.

Hips

Her hips are more sensitive than you would guess. It could be because they are so close to the center of her physical pleasure. Whatever the reason, kissing, licking and nibbling at her hips will send currents of delight down to her toes and up to the top of her head. Don’t neglect this place she wants your mouth to be.

Breasts

Putting your mouth on her breasts can be intensely sexy, but doing it wrong can turn her right off. Kissing, licking and sucking are all recommended and even some gentle biting can be acceptable as long as you take it easy. Her breasts are delicate, so don’t forget that you have to treat them appropriately. Unless she’s into hardcore S&M, hard sucking and biting are no-nos. Her breasts should not have bruises when you are done with them. Also, remember that her nipples are not the only parts that need some attention. Use your mouth all over her breasts for maximum effect.

No-go areas

No matter where your mouth ends up, it’s probably going to make her feel good. However, there are a couple body parts you should always get permission to apply your mouth to before exploring, including her feet and her bum. Some girls simply aren’t into having your mouth in these sensitive areas, so ask her before you go there. On the other hand, some girls would enthusiastically welcome some toe sucking or some tongue action down below. Find out where she stands and use your mouth accordingly.

Sarah Stefanson is a writer, editor and advice columnist for a variety of online magazines on subjects as varied as sex, relationships, fashion, women’s issues, travel, and autos. She and her boyfriend live in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, where they are both working on novels.

Feb 012013
 
Photo by Gene Reed
Photo by Gene Reed

Photo by Gene Reed

Lady Cheeky is presenting Does This Panel Make Me Look Fat?: Body Image and Sexuality. Check out Lady Cheeky’s bio here.

How do you see yourself as a catalyst for change?

I think anyone is a catalyst for change who actively pursues being a part of the discussion about how to change an outmoded ideal. Hopefully, this pursuit never ends but becomes more passionate with each endeavor.

Who or what was a catalyst for you?

My blogs. Being able to express myself, unexpurgated gave me the freedom to make significant changes in my life.

What do you feel are some of the biggest challenges or concerns facing us in the field of sexuality right now?

Getting the meme out to the world that sexuality is as natural as breathing in a way that doesn’t seem preachy or “woo-woo” so that people from all walks of life can understand it.

Read the rest on the CatalystCon Blog

cconE-badge2dGet $10 off registration at CatalystCon East when you use code “LADYCHEEKY” at checkout!

Web: CatalystCon: Sparking Communication in Sexuality, Acceptance and Activism
Twitter: @CatalystCon
Facebook: CatalystCon

 

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