I've always been a little insecure about my appearance. I have an ovary condition that causes hair loss (my hair is naturally curly, thin and fine as it is, thanks to this I also have a nice bald spot), my face breaks out ridiculously during that time of the month, I'm pretty plain looking, and I've always thought of myself as being overweight. Now, I can look at myself and see that high school and college me was NOT over weight AT ALL. I'm put on some weight post-baby, and I've accepted that this seems to be the weight that my body is comfortable at. However, like most women, I still feel I could stand to drop 5-10 pounds. (Or perhaps 20...) My insecurity is what has led to me being very uncomfortable with the amount of flirting that E does.
E is a major flirt. He's also the guy that you want to go to if you want a guy to tell you that you look good in an outfit. Post a selfie and ask if it looks bad, and E is right there to tell you that you look amazing. Post a picture asking an opinion on the outfit you're trying on and E is jumping on it to tell you how great you look in it. Post a head shot selfie, and E is instantly telling you how pretty you are. Unless you happen to be me. The first time E told me he found me attractive was after 6 months of dating, and we were drunk in New Orleans. He turned to look at me and said, "You know I think you're beautiful, right?" I chugged my drink because I didn't have the heart to tell him the real answer to his question. The second (and only other) time he's told me he thinks I'm beautiful is when he was trying to make me feel better after I called him out on his flirting. While I appreciate that, it's not the same as someone you love telling you that unprovoked, and sober.
The other day, I thought maybe if I tried dressing like these girls that he seems to find attractive, maybe I could get a compliment out of him. I went over to his house, dressed cute (for me) and he opened the door and said, "You're wearing real clothes." (I usually wear sweats when I'm not working.) The next day, I put on a cute top and a skirt and when I walked out of the bathroom, he said, "You're wearing real clothes, again." He spent the rest of the day asking me why I was wearing real clothes. Not the compliment I was looking for. Much like Gloria in this week's episode of Marriage Bootcamp, his reaction has a huge effect the physical side of our relationship. The second day, he started to ask me why I wasn't wanting to cuddle or hold hands. I wanted to say, "Well, I just tried dressing up for you, and it's still apparently not good enough!"
There are many times where, like Sofia, I've tried to initiate sex, only to be pushed away or shot down. Rejection is tough, y'all. When you make an effort with the clothing, and it fails....then make an effort to initiate the sex, and get rejected, it begins to eat at your insecurities. (Well, maybe it tends to eat at my insecurities.) As Mai-Lee said when Tomas said he likes the lights on, I never fully undress for E (even in the bedroom) because I'm afraid he's looking at all the parts that could stand to lose a few more pounds and is wishing that he had someone better than me.
My own insecurity has caused issues in my relationship. I know that E loves me, and I don't doubt him when he says he does. I never really noticed I was as insecure as I was until this relationship, and seeing other women (who are gorgeous!) struggle with the same insecurities, makes me feel less alone. E doesn't understand why it bothers me to see him flirt with other women. I think in his mind, he's coming home with me, and he loves me, so he doesn't feel that he needs to say anything to help boost my ego. I wish I could say that I didn't need him to, but I do. Every once in a while, I need to hear him say that he finds me attractive. Sometimes I need him to actually tell me what he likes about me. Sometimes, as Billy Joel would say, I need him to tell me about it! As they say on Girl Code, it's ok to have insecurities, just don't let them take over your life. That's the hard part for me.
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