I do not agree with the premise of Valentine’s Day. You should not need a specific day to remind you to show your love to others. Random acts of love are much more meaningful. However, think of this as my Valentine’s Day post: love from others, and how that can effect the love of oneself.
It’s funny which things can have a triggering effect in a positive way.
Yesterday I was thinking about when it was that I started accepting my own self. It happened in a way that many would think bizarre.
Lying in bed one night, after J had drunk a considerable amount of alcohol, he told me, “I love my fat slut.” I believe this is in reference to my body size (obviously), and our polyamorous (open) relationship.
I admit, I was a little shocked initially, but once that soon faded, I realized that I was proud to be his fat slut. Here was the man I loved more than anything in the world, professing his love for me, using terms that many would consider offensive, and using those terms in the most endearing way. It was at that moment that I was proud of who I was, I could see in myself what he was seeing, where I had previously been blind.
He was embarrassed when I told him what he had said the next day. I don’t blame him. He was probably thinking that I was going to be upset, not knowing that what he said had had completely the opposite effect. It actually filled me with a warm glow-y feeling. I had never felt so loved and accepted.
I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing that I only found self-acceptance though someone else accepting me, but at least I got there.