how to be beautiful AND a slut

I am beautiful.

I am kind, I am sincere.  I am not princess perfect body, face, hair.  I used to envy that, but turned out I only envied a combination of luck, makeup, and money. None of which I had particularly much of.  None of which I needed.

It hurt to be told, in so many words, You are ugly.

But it wasn’t about not having luck and makeup.  I didn’t think I was beautiful, because of ugly whispers.  Because I didn’t have “real” love.  Because I was stupid for wanting my relationships acknowledged when they weren’t even true relationships. “Why do you need people to know who you’re sleeping with?” I absolutely didn’t, so I thought, perhaps they’re right.  Why do I need to let people know?  Only a piece of me did.  But because I wanted to be with a woman, as a woman- or, heaven forbid, with multiple women- I was supposed to stay quiet.  I was strange, odd, undesirable, unworthy.  Nobody needed to see that.

…but underground?

Here, in the many communities, I was seen.  Admired, loved, liked.  I was good.  Among friends who I met at most half naked, sometimes fully so.  I felt safe for the first time.  The sluttier the better; I even feel I disappoint by not being slutty enough.  To these people, I am “cool” as a semi cis, semi nonbinary, gender questioning, queer, poly, bisexual person.  Practically a badge of honor to be the “weird one.”  Huh.  How rather flattering.  Here, I am beautiful.

I am more than beautiful; I am grateful.

I am kind, I am sincere.  I am not princess perfect body, face, hair.  But I am sexy, sensual, worthy, wonderful.  I am everything to my master, and quite a lot to many others.  I am not only good enough, I am better than enough.

Thank you, hidden people of the world, for everything.

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