I mentioned in my Viva Las Vegas post that Paul bought me a sexy dress on our trip to Vegas. A slinky, purple halter. What I didn’t elaborate on was the significance or ” the back story” surrounding “the dress.” That dress did a lot for my self-esteem and healed a lot of old wounds I didn’t know were still there. Let me explain.

I was one of four girls growing up. My three sisters all took after my father in terms of build. Skinny, high metabolisms and looked good in anything off the rack. I, however, was built like my mother, curvy, big boned and always on a diet. To this day, I look at photos of Angelina Jolie and Nicole Kidman and I long wistfully for their angular, lithe bone structures. Being a big-boned gal with a low risk for osteoporosis is small consolation when you’re built like Bea Arthur. No offense Bea, but the caftan look is just not sexy.

My insecurity started when I was a teenager. I had just lost a great deal of weight (I was a chubby little kid) when I was at a family gathering when an aunt, who’s a size 2 and just under five feet tall, commented on my weight loss by saying, “You look great, except, ” and pointing to my arms said, ” you just need to slim these down a bit. Do some push ups.” I was crushed. I hadn’t thought I looked that bad. That one insensitive remark stung me into a lifelong insecurity about my arms. From then on, I wore clothing that deemphasized my big arms, nothing form fitting and never a tank top.

I grew up. Married a gay guy, had two kids, moved across the country and got divorced. Life moved forward and I buried that long ago forgotten hurt until one day…  Paul and I were sitting in his hot tub. It was our first hot tub together… if you know what I mean. We had been dating a few weeks and he had just cooked us a romantic dinner. As we embraced he asked me, “You have such a beautiful neck and shoulders, why don’t you ever wear halter tops or sleeveless dresses?” I had never revealed my insecurity to anyone before, but something told me I could trust him so I told him the story about what my aunt had said to me. Just saying the words out loud made me feel foolish that I was carrying around such baggage. His response was, “You want to know what I am insecure about?” He gestured to his arms and told me that  he was bony skinny until well into highschool and was often teased about his “chicken arms”. His revelation washed over me and I could feel all my past hurt feelings evaporate. It’s amazing how the right words can right the wrong words. I knew from then on that being with Paul was the right place to be.