Musings of a Petunia

I used to be much more in hate with my body. I mean, I’m ambivalent about it a lot, but in general, I’m much more accepting and proud of it than I used to be. In some ways, I think it has to do with my husband, who likes what I have and how I look. He is encouraging and I don’t mind being a bit objectified sexually by him – he does it in such a complimentary fashion! This is not to say that I need a man to make me feel better about myself, but he’s undoing a lot of damage done to my psyche over the years by idiot males.

Contrast this with my ex, who was a piece of work on his best days, and downright cruel on his worst ones. He once called me Petunia Pig. Quite possibly insulting said in passing, but certainly insulting the way he said it. He meant that I was fat all over. I can’t believe I married him, and I’m sure some of his more sparkly gems will come out over the course of this blog. Nope, this isn’t the worst thing he ever said to me. Not by a long shot.

It’s taken years, but I finally figured out that Petunia Pig was always pretty awesome. She’s a shapely gal with a steady man, rocks the pigtails, is super plucky and spunky, and I distinctly remember her being kinda sly and naughty – she’s fun in a way you aren’t supposed to think cartoon characters are. She’s not shaped differently from Minnie Mouse, who was the queen of clunky heels that Petunia didn’t need to wear. Daisy Duck had the booty going for her, but she always sort of struck me as high maintenance. In no way do I look like any of them physically, because kids’ cartoons don’t have Giant Racks of Doom ™ like I do. Miss Piggy barely even has boob curve, and to see it, they have to put her in those plunge numbers that I could never wear until my great invention of Anti-Gravity Nipple Clamps ™ comes to fruition. I look much more like a shortened, compressed Jessica Rabbit. I’m unfortunately missing the legs for miles part of that equation, but we can’t all have the exact genetics we want. I’ll deal.

The one thing I learned from the interaction with my ex: We can’t please everyone due to their interpretations of our shape and size. We shouldn’t even bother. Those out there who prefer the Hollywood skinny look are what they are. They like what they like, regardless of whether or not they’ve been brainwashed by society and the media. We should go forth and find our match in those who like us for who, what, and how we are, not how they wish us to be. This is why my second marriage is going so much better than my first.

On my first date with Gabriel, after some 4.5 hours of lively conversation, the topic of what we liked in terms of physical features came up. He has a big nose, and I like big noses. Really, really, really like! I told him so. He said “I like what you have.” I pressed him for details, since I was coming out of a marriage where I was not appreciated, so he elaborated. He managed not to blush, though he grinned a bit self-consciously when he said “Boobs and ass.” Well, I definitely have that!

If I am a Petunia in someone’s mind, so be it. In my mind, I’m busy being a Jessica, and having a commensurate amount of fun!

 

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