Show Some Skin and Find Peace?

As a teenager in the '80s, my style was all about copying Molly Ringwald. I was all lace. long skirts and paisley shirts buttoned to my chin. Then, of course, there was my religious upbringing, which taught women to cover up, lest boys be tempted to have sex.

Showing a little booby and liking it.

Then there were the little things, such as my mom telling me every time we went clothes shopping that I had a fat upper back. I should wear high-collar shirts, she told me, to cover it up. (God love our parents.) Then there was some merciless teasing, including a girl in high school who loved to tell me that she would kill herself if she were as skinny as I was. (Fun fact: she was.) The college ex-boyfriend who said I looked better in winter clothes.

It's funny how we internalize these experiences without giving them a lot of thought at the time. Yet, I took each one and filed it away, defining how I dressed and felt about my body for 30 years.

But in the south, where I live now, it is fucking hot in the summer and spring and most of the fall, and the question becomes: why are you covering up? Why was I covering up?

I don't really know. Like many, I had little confidence in my teen years -- not in myself and not in my body, for sure. Soon after college, I began my drinking career, which led to an unfortunate second career in bingeing and purging.

Near the end of the worst of my eating disorder, I gained weight. Quite a lot of it. Alcohol and eating disorders are like that. They work until they don't. But I became peaceful, and, despite myself, I started to embrace my body. I quit using the "F" word every time I looked in the mirror, and I quit demonizing food. And then, I started wearing sleeveless tops. I intentionally bought low-cut shirts and dresses and even thanking my body for doing all it does for me despite my constant bullying of it.

I recently revamped my wardrobe and filled it with sleeveless tops and short skirts, which means naked arms and naked legs. The other day I took the photo above and was shocked by what I saw. My dress was low and a little bit of my breast could be seen. I loved it. "Look at me," I screamed to myself. "You're a badass."