Since childhood, I have possessed a fascination with nudity. More specifically, the female body. I vividly recall searching through the TV Guide looking for movies that featured nudity. It was a secret ritual, that bordered on obsession.
In my youthful innocence, it seemed “normal” to engage in this type of behavior. I told myself that curiosity of the human body was part of the natural progression in coming of age. Harboring an appreciation, exploring femininity, I didn’t question if I was crossing any dangerous lines, or venturing into strange territory. It felt as though I was partaking in a harmless journey, somehow meant to travel.
To be quite honest, I was envious of other females. In my eyes, they possessed a beauty that was unlike to my own. Born with some medical issues, I was always self- conscious of my appearance. I never felt beautiful. Many in society agreed, thrusting upon me harsh labels that took years to come to overcome. Oh, and how I detested mirrors. Their uncanny ability to highlight every flaw, flashing like a warning signal. What the hell? How does an object hold so much power?
Can I answer, with certainty, where my appreciation of women stems from? No! A psychologist would probably surmise that it relates to a deep- seeded desire to look like them. To be what I deem the definition of “perfect”. I’m not sure that I would agree with that analysis. Perhaps as I continue this project, the answer will be found.