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I started this blog so I could keep track of what I was thinking & so far I've failed. It seems that whenever I have time to write things down I either have nothing to say or I've forgotten what was relevant enough to say. Oh well such is life!!

This past week or so, I have been objectified to extremes & made to feel terrible about the person that I now am. If my age nine self could see me right now, it would be ashamed of what it beheld.

I used to be such a happy child. A privliged youth to say the least, I never wanted for anything but at the time life still felt like it delt me a duff hand as I was a particularly "unfortunate looking" child. People can say; "Everyone is beautiful in God's eyes" as much as they want but, when you're between the ages of 5 & 16, as I have said before, no one is crueler than kids. When I was about 14 I stopped caring what people thought because I knew though I wasn't the prettiest flower in the bunch, I was still one of the brightest & nothing anyone said could change that. Then comes the time of happiness.

"These are my thoughts written down on paper. It's my only saviour from not saying what I want to say..."

When I was fifteen I went through something no living person should have to suffer and that time of happiness was shattered. After that I started dressing differently and wearing make-up every day as a mask, so I could play a part and be someone else. Someone people couldn't really get too close to. To this day I still can't leave the house or let anyone see me without make-up on. A lasting effect of my past experiences I suppose.

"This is the truth, the only time you'll hear it. I'll write it down because it seems so hard to say it..."

Since I seem to be in the writing mood right now I think I shall tell this tale. It shall even be the first time I have recorded in words that happened. I probably should have done this a long time ago to give me a bit of perspective but better late than never I suppose!!

I was at an eighteenth birthday party & my friends were rather drunk. One of the girls I was with fell out with my best friend and since this girl never really liked me to begin with, she blamed me for the falling out. Naturally being a sensitive soul, I took this to heart & decided I would just be better off going home & leaving everyone else to their night out. It was a mistake to walk home alone. I live in a small town in an area that everyone knows everyone else so naturally you just assume you'll be safe & that nothing can happen to you. Someone followed me home that night & I was attacked not far from my house.

What happened was one of the worst experiences of my life & since then I've never been able to let any guy get close to me. I've had boyfriends & stuff has happened with them but it always feels wrong. It all makes me feel vile & cheap & like I'm not worth anything even though I know these guys do care a lot about me. After that I mentally push them away & ruin whatever trust & love there was between us.

I know it's my fault but I can't get past what happened that night. Four years on & I'm still letting what happened control the way I act with guys and it is also the reason that whenever a guy takes a liking to me in a club, on a bus, or anywhere, I feel like they're looking at me like he did. Like they're thinking the same things he was...

It terrifies me to think that they all have the potential to hurt not just me but my friends. I would rather take any form of abuse or punishment than anyone bestow it upon my friends. Telling anyone was hard enough but now a total of four of my friends know. The first happened about two years ago & was most definatley the hardest. We were talking on the MSN & he brought up something to do with rape at which time I clammed up & he knew something was wrong. It burst out of me along with the tears he couldn't see. I felt so bad for telling him because he didn't need to know. He didn't need to know I'd been damaged & ruined. But he didn't completely disown me as a friend instantly. Quite the opposite, he comforted me. Even though he was shocked & just bumbling over his own words his knowing gave me a small fraction of ease in my mind for which I am eternally grateful. The second happened when one of my friends had an experience that resulted in someone she knew almost doing to her, what happened to me. There were three of us there & we were all a little boozy so things were easier to say to eachother. I would do anything for those girlies. Well, all my girlies (there's quite a few of them) but these two are my secret-keeping stars & I wouldn't trade the world for them. The last I told almost two weeks ago. He was one of my friends flatmates last year nad he lives three floors above me this year. The easiest of the four to tell because he's just the kind of person you can talk to about anything, he was the most angry about what had happened. He was talking about his past hurt from girls & I listened to what he had to say with intent but when he asked me about my history with guys my first thought was; "Oh s**t. Do I tell him or do I not?!" So what came out first was the sentence; "No one gets close." I don't know if I was trying to ward him off in my semi-drunken state or not but either way, it didn't work & I'm glad. I told him everything & to this day he's the only one that knows the things I left out whan I told the others. After I told him he came over & sat beside me on the floor & put his arm around me. He told me things about his past that should never have happened to him either. Such terrible things could happen to one of the sweetest guys on the planet, but there he was, with me curled up under his arm & able to make me feel safer than I ever had. It was a strange thing. While he was telling me his stories I just wanted to pass the warmth I had to him, like it might be able to pass him a bit of my soul so he could mend his own with it. Then one of my flatmates (& best friends from back home) came up the stairs & she joined us. It was quite funny, she asked what was wrong (since we were randomly sitting together at the top of the stairs) & he said I fell down the stairs. I know I'm clumsey but sheesh (I jest). But yeah, he went from aquaintance to one of the only three guys I'm not related to that I feel I can trust and not be afraid of, so that was quite leap!!

My parents have no idea anything has ever happened and yet I have been mugged twice & attacked in a different manner (I still can't say the real words in realtion to myself). Many would blame this on bad parenting but this is most definatley not the case. We keep our secrets hidden well. Writing them down in a blog doesn't seem like divulging them in my mind. It's more like keeping them in a diary. Even though people can see it, I can't see many, or infact any stumbling across my blog, so it seems like these secrets are safe.

Back to my original thought- the loathing for objectification.

The above is my reason for hating objectification. Apparently, because I wear make-up and dress in clothes that don't make me look like a nun, I am fair game for male predators. The same can be said for any girl that does the same but whereas many enjoy this attention, many more view it as victimisation and just want to look good to feel good about themselves. Is that so wrong? Wanting to look good and feel good about yourself without being hit on, in often a rather ludocris manner?

Last Monday I was on the bus home from work and there were no seats so, naturally, I stood. A complete Jimmy Random came over and said; "You make standing on a bus look good." Now, really, is that a sensible way to get a girl's attention?! I think not.

Why can't one guy just get to know you first? Or if they don't know you, come up to you and say; "Hi, I'm *insert name here*. How are you?" and continue from there, finishing possibly with something like; "I've enjoyed speaking to you. I'd like to get to know you better if that's alright with you." No, they have to spout off lines like; "Get your coat you've pulled." Or some don't even give you the courtesy of a chat-up line nowadays!! Some like to attempt to maul you on the dance floor of a club. Splendid. Being bashed into and having my derriere grabbed by a guy with too much gel in his hair is exactly how I wanted to spend my night out with my friends...

I feel I got side-tracked and rambled on for too long before I started my objectification rant so I'm going to stop there. Hopefully I'll check back in soon with a more cheerful blog. Maybe on puppies. Or kittens. They both tend to induce notions of fluffyness. That's always a nice feeling.

Jpxxx

P.s. Jees this is a long blog!!