The Dress

September 5, 2015

11262472_10155552773675293_9008774647031737297_n This dress.

If you have been reading up to now, you know my boobs are weird.
If you have eyes you can see clearly in the above photo, they look a little weird.

I have a congenital deformity called Poland syndrome. Just Google it.

I’m trying so hard to be okay with it, but I am not there yet.

I have/had body dysmorphia.
I have bouts where I think/believe/see myself as deformed. Because I am.

I am also anorexic, in the same way even a recovered alcoholic will always be an alcoholic.
I’m currently able to eat, but things could change, as they tend to do and imbibing a blueberry will feel like a Herculean task.

I am also medium to heavily tattooed.

Neither of those things have to do with my body dysmorphia nor my deformity. My anorexia is stress related. I would rather look in the mirror and see curvy/toned but when I am sad, I can’t bring myself to chew or swallow. I don’t even get hungry.
My tattoos are pretty, no great meaning behind them except the 3 that are words, and mean what they say. I just like them.

I am currently recovering from a 5.5 hour tattoo session wherein 80% of a full back piece was outlined. I am endorphin crashing like mad. It’s okay. Holding the vision, trusting the process.

What is not okay is I cannot at this moment, wear a bra. I am self-conscious about my boobs to the point where it is crippling sometimes. Like right now, wherein my body is in a weakened state, my mind is preoccupied with lack of sleep and pain management and I can’t get happy nor comfortable. Comfortable clothes has become a contradiction in terms and my bedroom floor looks like a hurricane hit my closet.

This too shall pass. I’ll be Pollyanna again by tomorrow, but right now I hurt, and I am naked because I can’t hide my boobs in a bra, so I am unable to even at all.

My heart hurts a bit too.

I changed my profile pic to match my cover photo, I do this every day, usually without consequence. Today however I looked at the date and comments. Flashbacks galore, on a day where I can barely exist in my current hurt, much less deal with old ones.

I have a collection of dresses and shirts that I feel comfortable in without a bra. They are my favorites.

Once upon a May 18th, I had a market day with friends. I wore one of said dresses, my favorite one in fact. It had always made me feel like I was wearing butterfly wings, silken flowing. I wandered about running my own errands to spare their 4 year old my meandering. And lo, what to my slightly teary eyes should appear? Mind Fuck. I finally remembered what I named the Twinkie Ghostling Young Un Three Point ohmygodyouareadorable, with that glorious mouth of his, noms. He looked at me like I was made of magic, bit his delicious bottom lip, asked if he could draw me, gathered all my information and we parted ways. Me flattered and happy.

3 blocks away, I meet up with my other family, go for dinner…Wee Miss Memphis has nothing to do so I wander out in search of crayons. Some potato shaped girl across the street remarks to her friends “Her boobs look weird in that dress don’t they?” in reference to me and LOUD AS FUCK. Immediate shame, I slunk back to the restaurant, trouty-pouty mouthed boy forgotten, the love, warmth and acceptance of my non-biological family, wasn’t enough to erase what she said. I wrapped my sweater around me and stayed covered for the rest of the day. Until Wee Miss Memphis got chilly and I wrapped her up in it. Children trump everything, ever and always.

I can accept that there will be days when I simply feel yucky, it’s normal, it’s human, it’s inevitable…
What I cannot abide is when that feeling is pushed on me by outside forces.
I am ultimately in charge of this.
This is commonly know as giving no fucks.
I’m good with that.

The next day I spoke to the trouty-mouthed-mind-fuck and we had a thing for a few weeks. He was lovely until he lied with his purdy mouth, to my face, about pretty much everything. Goes to show can’t trust even the prettiest words from the prettiest boys, but whatev’s. I had a little meltdown and got over it.

That dress didn’t make it through the next purge, I toss a lot of things that hold less than spectacular memories. I sold it. But not because of the boy who lied. Because of the girl who told the truth. I know that their opinions of me are none of my business but I couldn’t shake it off. I still can’t, I am writing 1000 words about how I let 2 strangers both make and break my day. I don’t know how to stop this but I have to try.

I wrote this this morning.


Ode to Hot Neighbor

Oh hot neighbor,

Why you gotta to be so hot.

How is it that every time I see you

I am a mess

Sleep in my eyes

Hair wild, but not in a good way

Sweaty sweats

Tiny dog straining at the leash

She wants to say hi

I know how she feels

But I smile and drop my head

I’m always carrying trash

Late for something

And yet,

You look at me as if I am in my Sunday best

Carrying the grail or a cool drink of water

Salome down to her last veil.

Thank you hot neighbor,

For being so hot and so sweet.



Perhaps one day I’ll say hello, and instead of asking for a cup of sugar, I’ll borrow his eyes and see what he sees when he looks at me, hopefully I will be in one of those dresses that I love so much, feeling and maybe even looking like a butterfly.


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  • Dave September 7, 2015 at 12:09 pm

    I always find it weird and a little sad that everyone has something about themselves that they don’t like or want to change, even beautiful women like you, who by today’s standards are what every other women is supposed to strive for. I hate that we live in a time when society imposes these impossible standards on us (especially women) that make us feel we are somehow less worthy if we don’t live up to them. I see it in my daughters sometimes and it makes me angry. Hopefully the world will change, in time. I just came back from a festival where there were lots of women of all ages,enjoying themselves in the sun and the music. Very few of them where “beautiful” by today’s supermodel standards, but each had some quality in them that was attractive and made them really beautiful in my eyes. And I am sure to other men’s eyes as well. So you think you have weird boobs. You also have a face that is so beautiful it shines like the sun, and you can’t look too long for fear of damaging your eyes. I am sure there is a man out there who would spend hours exploring every flaw on our body, and would be thankful for every minute he got to do it. You are intelligent, funny, thoughtful , kind and yes even a little crazy and you are attractive to men (and women) in ways even you don’t understand. It is the sum that makes the whole, Sarah, not the parts. You are a beautiful woman. You are a goddess…You all are.

    • sexloveandgrace September 7, 2015 at 3:15 pm

      thank you

  • Davina Hader September 11, 2015 at 12:12 am

    If we live through our heart, it is easy to realize that our imperfections are what make us beautiful… and you are truly beautiful. <3

    • sexloveandgrace September 11, 2015 at 1:44 pm

      thank you 🙂

  • Casi Cielo March 15, 2016 at 1:36 pm

    Dude! I NEED YOU to say hi to Hot Neighbor and update us about it!

    • sexloveandgrace March 15, 2016 at 1:57 pm

      he has brought pie and wine and we had wonderful sex 3 times 🙂

  • Georganne Hampton November 5, 2016 at 7:28 pm

    Your day was broken by those not worthy to do so. Tomorrow is a new day. I challenge you to go find a new set of butterfly wings disguise as a dress.

    • sexloveandgrace November 6, 2016 at 9:32 am

      it was a long time ago. i hope one day i won’t feel that way

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