OffChance

Sleeping with a woman for the first time was up there with one of the most scary things I’ve ever done in my life: there, I said it. As a proud bisexual woman who only ‘came out’ several years ago, my sexual history – while peppered with desire for the women around me – has always been centred around experiences with men. I lost my virginity to a man, and spent the first decade of my sexually active life only ever seeing men naked. So, unlearning everything I had come to know about sex to enter this new queer era was quite the adjustment.

Sex with women at the start was complex for me; it was incredibly freeing and a physical manifestation of my own queer joy and acceptance, but still felt intimidating. And a big part of this was born from my own body insecurities. Growing up, I had always been very slim, wearing a UK size 6-8 and naturally not ever gaining weight until my mid-twenties. This is when my body changed; I developed curves in places I hadn’t before, as well as cute hip dips and a little belly.

Like many growing up in the nineties and early noughties, I’ve been greatly impacted by toxic diet culture as a teen and young woman. This narrative teaches you only one body type is truly ‘acceptable,’ and that any form of weight gain is something inherently negative – no matter the rhyme or reason. I’ve spent years unlearning these lessons; unfollowing Instagram accounts with those dreaded ‘before and after’ pics (turning instead to body positive accounts such as Alex Light’s), and working to appreciate my body for its ability to walk, move, feel pleasure and even just wake up in the morning. I never weigh myself, try to avoid seeing foods as ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ and have shifted my focus onto living healthily while still experiencing all the joy eating brings me. However, as many recovering from any form of disordered eating or body image issues knows, it’s an ongoing journey you’re continuously growing and evolving from.

“The women I’ve slept with have all had bodies I’ve traditionally ‘aspired’ to have myself – flat tummies, toned limbs and perfect boobs ”

I began being intimate with women around the time my body confidence was on the way up again, after learning to re-love what I looked like. And while it may be ‘taboo’ to say, my early experiences definitely triggered me in a way I had not been during sex with men. The women I’ve slept with have all had bodies I’ve traditionally ‘aspired’ to have myself – flat tummies, toned limbs and perfect boobs – meaning looking at them and then myself resulted in direct comparisons.

Often, before catching myself, I would easily fall back into my old damaging thought patterns. My brain told me I was not worthy of being with these beautiful women the way I look now wearing a size 10-12, and that I must work to get back to my old, smaller body. I began to hone in on that extra layer of fat I’ve always been unsure about around my tummy, or over-analyse the way my arms jiggle a little more than they did when I was in my twenties. (Let me just add in a disclaimer here: I completely recognise these feelings are from my own insecurities and not the responsibility of any of the women I’ve slept with who have done nothing but be gorgeous and kind – nor is it their responsibility to ‘heal’ me).

When speaking with some fellow queers, I realised I’m not the only one who has felt this way – particularly at the beginning. A friend tells me: “When I started sleeping with women, I remember thinking ‘she might not like my body,’ ‘my breasts are bigger so it's weird,’ ‘I've got stretch marks and my body is different’ or ‘I've got a bigger tummy and hips’.” Like me, she found herself comparing small details during these initial intimate moments.

However, as I am beginning to, she realised much of this thinking is rooted in internalised misogyny (that teaches us to compete with women for everything from jobs to attention from men) and being raised on toxic diet culture narratives: “I think a lot of it stems from one's own personal body issues/self-image, comparing yourself to society's version of a ‘hot’ or ‘perfect’ body, and validation from others (in particular men), as most women are raised to do or shown in the media.”

And this is where sleeping with women – while sometimes feeling triggering to begin with – can interestingly also help to heal you from negative self talk and body image issues if you let it. “I really don't think there's many women who haven't experienced body issues,” my friend says, “which is both shit and kind of a relief because you know being a woman sleeping with a woman, she'll understand even a little bit – you're both in this together.”

Being with fellow women reminds you to silence negative self-talk and internal monologues, mostly because the things we say to ourselves we would never dream of saying to our partners. Plus, there’s a feeling of acceptance we often experience with women because of shared experiences we have had as a collective.

My friend tells me that even when she feels insecure about a certain part of her body during sex, “the girl won't bat an eyelid.” She explains: “they'll compliment you and basically make you feel like the hottest women alive. In my experience, they just want both of you to have a good time, and like your body the way it is. If they see a stretch mark, they say it's beautiful or even say ‘look at mine’. Sleeping with women has actually boosted my confidence and made me realise the small things I worry about don't matter. Women are so supportive and kind.”

She’s not the only one to find that sex with women has actually healed her body insecurities. Sex & Relationships writer and podcaster Hayley Folk, 29, says it has allowed her to “see my own body more beautifully, and appreciate aspects of it that I didn’t before.”

“Being with other women, I can appreciate the things I see on their bodies that I don't usually like on my own, like that divet in my waist or how I look at my own legs. If I'm attracted to them, why can't I like those things about myself?” she explains. “It has given me a new perspective toward my imperfections. I find it makes me more able to appreciate bodies in different ways, including my own.”

I am finally now getting to this point in which I am moving away from feelings of insecurity and towards continued love and self-acceptance – but it’s an ongoing journey. For those on a similar journey, Alexis Conason, Licensed Psychologist and Certified Eating Disorders Specialist-Consultant, reminds us to go easy on ourselves – especially considering the culture we’ve grown up with: “Allowing someone to see us intimately can feel very vulnerable and bring up many different emotions, including insecurity around our bodies.”

“We live in a culture that tells us that our body isn't good enough unless it conforms to an impossible ideal and that pleasure – especially pleasure in our bodies – is sinful and we should be ashamed of our desires, of losing control, of experiencing pleasure,” she continues. “All of this creates a perfect storm for people to experience body shame, anxieties, and insecurities around sex.”

“Imagine the way you feel when you look at a partner during sex and become completely encapsulated in how beautiful they are. Now, imagine that you're them, and how they must feel to experience this with you.”

Her best advice is to really recognise these feelings, normalise them, and then work to re-route and re-design them: “If feeling secure and confident about your body is a struggle, it can be helpful to aim for feeling more neutral and accepting about our bodies rather than trying to love what your body looks like all the time.” She adds: “I find mindfulness practices to be helpful here. Next time you notice negative body image thoughts arise during sex, take a moment to notice these thoughts, label them (for example, ‘I'm having negative thoughts about my body,’ or ‘There's that old story that my body isn't good enough’), and focus your awareness on your breath and/or the physical sensations happening in your body instead.”

Still struggling? Folk offers this sage piece of advice to take away: “Imagine the way you feel when you look at a partner during sex and become completely encapsulated in how beautiful they are. Now, imagine that you're them, and how they must feel to experience this with you. Sure, we all have body image, but when we trust ourselves with a partner, we are in fact, trusting ourselves and our desires. Everything else can easily wash away.”

As my journey continues, I am working to reach a place of full body acceptance and reminding myself to be as kind, loving and respectful to my own body as I am to the women I am having sex with. Yes – sex with women as a newly- ‘out’ bi person can be triggering when you have body insecurities. But it’s also beautiful – and incredibly healing in all the ways that matter.