As a woman on the internet who frequently shows a lot of skin, I am way too familiar with being sexualised. Let me tell you something from the off – it never gets easier to read and there is no way I can just brush it off or not let it fuck with my mind and my view of my body. Some things stay with you; no matter how many people try to tell you to react differently. This post will be about my experiences with The Gross Men Of The Internet. If you are not one of these then no need to protest or apologise. This post isn’t referring to your actions – never change.
Women get half naked and very naked for a whole host of reason. There are women who perform or get naked for those who are attracted to them: some are in porn, some are glamour models, some are cam girls and so on and so forth. When those women invite people to interact with them in a sexually explicit way – crack on! Tell her about what you want to do with your throbbing fuck stick and her majestic breasts. She is consenting and that makes it ok. But guess what (and this may blow your minds)… this does not give you free reign to sexualise women who aren’t inviting you to do so. You can sit at home with a tub of vaseline and go to town on yourself over pictures of Freya’s latest bikini range photos, but the minute you start leaving grim comments on some poor woman’s social profile WHO HAS NOT INVITED YOU TO DO SO…well, that’s when you need to reassess your life choices and possible switch your internet off for a bit. There’s a difference between a yes and a no. That’s like the barman making you a round of drinks and charging you when you just nipped into the pub to ask if you could use the loo. It’s like parking your car on your drive and having someone come and crush it like it’s at a junk yard. It is a violation.
As someone who strips down for the sole purpose of educating people and providing an inspirational resource for those who wear bras and dresses and everything else I review, I never ever welcome these comments. To be honest, the fact that I do it to educate rather than titivate doesn’t really matter – but for me it just makes it all the more shocking. No one is safe. Nothing is sacred. You post a photo of yourself in a sports bra to show the fit and tell others why you like it and the next thing you know, three men are discussing how they want to watch you run naked to compare/stick their worrying looking Nik Nak between your boobs/how sexy gawjus plump you are. It doesn’t seem to matter that my bio says I am married. It doesn’t seem to matter that I have several photos of me actually getting married as my profile and cover photos. These men lack respect and the ability to see me as a human. When I talk back and I called a bitch, a whore, a slag. I am mocked. Their friends get involved. I am told to not take things so personally. So seriously. Men actually seem outraged that I dare take back the control that they have wrenched away from me by reducing me to a few holes and some boobs. They want to be able to comment ‘yeah, I’d fuck her’ without actually processing that I do not want to be fucked. I do not want to be objectified. I don’t care about your dick.
I know what some of you are thinking – ‘George, don’t get mad. You should expect the comments, you should expect to be sexualised – afterall, you are posting half naked photos of yourself on public forums! If you can’t handle the comments then cover up!‘ – but that is not the answer. You see, these gross and graphic comments do not get left by a virus or a robot, they are left by real people who have a choice. A choice between doing what’s right and what’s harassment. Yes, the sight of a scantily clad woman might excite and arouse. If women talking about the fit of a sports bra are what get you off (rather niche but still legal) – great! Whatever tickles your pickle! Arousal is an involuntary reaction to a stimulus and all that. BUT you do not have to tell the poor unsuspecting person every single seedy thought that floats about in your noggin. Me not being online in my underwear merely stops me being on the receiving end of some jizzy declaration of lust – but the intent is still there. And it’s needs to stop. Get a diary, phone a friend, go somewhere remote and scream it into the ether. Because when you tell me all you end up with is me feeling repulsed, blocking you, reporting you and sometimes, if the mood takes me, showing your wife what you have written.
I am here to stay as a lingerie blogger and someone who hopefully helps empower women to feel happy in their skin and with their size, although every day I feel like I am losing control of my reach. But I won’t be silenced by the sound of a thousand lonely men jerking off into socks. I am here for the women. Women follow me because they like seeing a body like theirs wearing bikinis and tight dresses. Your onslaught of rancid comments about me and my ‘BBW’ body will hopefully not knock all confidence out of them and colour their opinions of the male species. I don’t need your validation. I don’t want to be found fuckable. I don’t always have to be sexy. I don’t want to be reduced to a pair of boobs and a big bum. I want to be Georgina, blogger and mother of rats. I want to present my body on the internet and not feel sick to my stomach at the vile comments it gets. I want to educate without knowing how you masturbate.
Of course, the phrase ‘think before you type’ is applicable to everyone on the internet, but if you are spewing out lusty comments with one hand whilst your penis is being grasped with the other then you really need to redirect the blood flow for one second. Not all spaces of the internet are meant for you. You don’t always need to comment – harmless or spunkful. It is not a compliment to be told that my boobs are fuckable and my arse would look great on your face. It is not a compliment to tell me you would like to sleep with me. It is not a compliment to be told how much you prefer ‘thick girls over twig bitches because there’s more to kiss’. It needs to stop.
I am not your property. I am not on the internet for you.
Don’t wank and comment.