Editor’s note: this essay includes mentions of disordered eating, rape, trauma, and self harm.
My relationship with my body has always been complex and difficult to navigate. I’m sure I’m not alone in this; our bodies are the vessels through which we experience our lives and can often have a deep impact on what those experiences are like. It’s important to give the context and history of my relationship with my body before I address the ways that sex work impacted and continues to impact how I experienced my body.
As a teenager, I had severe eczema and a restrictive eating disorder. I found it easy to dissociate from my body and my physical experiences. I could not stop myself from scratching into my skin, and I struggled to separate the pain of my body from awareness of myself. My skin was perpetually wounded and my sense of self also. I developed pompholyx eczema (AKA dyshidrotic eczema) and was prescribed steroids for years. Unfortunately, steroids increase your risk of future eczema outbreaks. It makes your skin thinner. I found that to be an apt metaphor while I was struggling with my emotional and physical trauma. My skin constantly reacted to everything around me, as if I had no barrier, no shield.
As I grew older and experienced more trauma, I felt even further from my body. When I was raped by two different men in 2016, I began to perceive my body as unsafe to inhabit and no longer mine. These experiences did not occur while escorting, but in situations around people I knew and I thought I could trust.
As I grew older and experienced more trauma, I felt even further from my body.
In addition to physical pain and trauma, I was also not immune to Western standards of beauty and the ways that I did not meet them. When I began sex work in my early 20s, in the midst of my eating disorder, I struggled with not being the “ideal”. Even if I was thin, I would still be hairy and littered with scars and rashes. I didn’t realize it, but my body was enough then, and it is enough now.
I am now in my 30s, fat, a multiple rape survivor, and disabled – yet I enjoy my body more than I ever have before. I do not feel self-conscious about the form I exist in. I no longer perceive my body as an affliction that I do not want, but instead as an extension of myself that deserves tenderness and care. Sex work helped to alter that perception and increased my appreciation of my body.
Many years ago, when I began taking nudes, posting listings, and creating content, I edited my photos to fit into a more conventional idea of what is attractive. At this time, my body felt like something foreign to me. I did not perceive the pictures I took as pictures of myself. Before creating content, the nude pictures I took were primarily a form of “body checking”, born from disordered eating behaviors.
I no longer perceive my body as an affliction that I do not want, but instead as an extension of myself that deserves tenderness and care.
Before actually recovering from my eating disorder, I decided to fake it. I wanted to act like I loved myself in hopes that it might change how I felt about myself. I found myself more present and not terrified of that presence during this time. I began to view my body with more care. I also received extensive therapy, particularly EMDR. I want to clarify that this article is not meant to instruct anyone on how to recover from an eating disorder.
I was also influenced towards this type of fake it until you make it body confidence as a response to rape. My body had been violated and harmed, and I wanted to create opposing experiences. I stopped self-injuring and started creating soothing sensations for myself, some of which were as simple as soft blankets, or making sure to moisturize.
I sought ways to feel more at home in my body. One of the ways I felt ownership over my body was through tattoos. I was tattooed by Noel’le Longhaul in 2016 and then again in 2022, and my time sitting with her and the work we created together had a substantial effect on my relationship with my body and my trauma. I have many tattoos by other artists, but none of them are as important to me. Noel’le’s tattoos helped my body to feel like a work of art crafted from a history that was no longer a struggle to carry. During my sessions with Noel’le, I felt seen and as if a weight was being lifted from me. The aspect of Noel’le’s work that initially drew me to her was the way her tattoos seem to exist as part of the body, flowing with it, rather than sitting on top of it. The richness and depth of her artwork, to me, feels like embracing the whole of myself, including darkness.
As I recovered, I gained weight, which had previously been my biggest fear. The way I had to advertise changed, now using terms like ‘fat’ and ‘bbw’, and I followed a lot of people with bodies similar to mine. I mentioned it in my article about fatphobia, but viewing different types of bodies begins to normalize them. We are inundated with images of often unattainable physical ideals, spending time in virtual spaces looking at “imperfect” (normal) bodies helped me to feel more comfortable with my own body. I viewed these people as attractive and beautiful, and that view began to extend to myself. I made friends with a lot of really radical and intelligent sex workers who deepened my compassion towards both myself and others.
My body had been violated and harmed, and I wanted to create opposing experiences.
It helped that my body was not seen as undesirable, despite its imperfections. Of course there are trolls who will insult you and clients who are looking for “conventionally attractive” sex workers, but that didn’t really bother me. My previous inability to accept my body had been more personal, and the only fatphobia that really hurt how I viewed myself was my own internalized fatphobia.
Initially, perceiving myself that way – as sexually desirable, particularly as an escort – was very much faking it ‘til I made it. This experience of desirability as a sex worker really did have a significant impact on my self perception. I started to see myself. As time went on and I felt more at home in my body, I created content that felt more genuine, content in which I recognized myself. Looking at videos I made, especially those with other sex workers, I felt hot and proud of the work I was putting out. Sex work – both escorting and content creation – are a way I experience myself as desirable and sexual. I stopped shaving a few years ago instead of spending loads of time on hair removal, and simply added that information to my listings. Sometimes I still fret about eczema or a zit before a booking, but I’m almost always met with a “wow, you look better than your pictures.” Of course, bookings are not always mind-blowing experiences, but I often find myself enjoying being physically present for them.
Existing as a woman who is fat, disabled, and a sex worker – is not always safe. It can be uncomfortable and painful, but I’ve learned to embrace pleasure when and where I can. I do not view my body as undeserving or as the source of my suffering.
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