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Ruined.

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If Facebook becomes my confessional and therapy, so be it. Following on yesterday's (or the day before) thinly veiled revelation of being hired as an "exotic dancer" in between the births of both of my daughters, firstly I'll tell you, in most cases, the generally believed theories about why women go into sex work and accurate. It's the attention. It's daddy issues. It's men issues period. When we're molested, raped, abused, used, especially by close, trusted family, we experience the horrible sensation of having no control over our own lives, no control over our own bodies, and often, no way to get away from the abuse.
So how do some of us regain control over our own bodies? Using it to make men pay, literally. 
My need for control didn't end there. Because men's need to continue to abuse and use me didn't end. 
Do you know the one thing I did to myself that 100% effectively gave me absolute control and protection of my own body?
I got fucking fat. 
My obesity is an impenetrable wall. I am fully protected. 
I know exactly why I'm fat (clinically morbidly obese, at this point) I've known (understood) for years.
I hate myself for not being able to stop being a sexual object to predatory men. 
I guess I sabotaged myself. 
Now my health is suffering for it.
Is there a point to airing all this? Only for me. 
Like I said, it's therapeutic. I'm still figuring out how to work through it, but oddly, being transparent and public is helping. Yes, I also know what that's all about too. But that definitely can't be discussed publicly, yet.

If I had one wish, it would be for boys, men, males, to have kept their fucking hands (etc) off of me. I wasn't a product, an item, a possession. I was not owned. Feeling I was, ruined me. 
A close second would be all the females who hated me (and let me know it) because their "man" couldn't keep their hands or their mind off me. 
I had to trash myself to be safe.
I'm safe. But I'm still miserable. 
I'll never trust another man again. 
L.

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