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that’s a swimsuit?


Last week I went into one of those dark places I described before. I can’t remember why, but I asked my husband if he liked going to that stupid famous website that features swimsuit models once a year. He said he did. I don’t know why but this threw me into that dark place. Early on, when this whole filthy Mc-Nasty story was unfolding, M made sure he told me that it wasn’t about beautiful women, it was about sex. He specifically avoided any type of porn where the women looked all fakey and perfect. He was interested in real women. This made sense to me only because he has never once told me how I should look or could look. I’ve always felt secure in my looks not because I am gorgeous but because I know it really doesn’t matter and because he has always told me I am beautiful. Always.

But this new revelation about him visiting that stupid swimsuit webpage told me something else. He does desire perfection. He does desire beautiful women. I am not beautiful compared to those women. Sure, I am 5’10” but that’s where our similarities end. Completely end. I felt heart broken all over again. I felt like in addition to knowing my husband likes to watch naughty videos, now I need to mourn the fact that he lusts after amazingly beautiful women.

So the next day I went to that filthy website. I have never once opened any pornographic website my husband has viewed (the web titles tell enough!), but since I knew this wasn’t full nudity porn, I went to it just to see what it was he liked. Wow. And did you know Heidi Klum was a swimsuit model? I sure didn’t. I gave up watching Project Runway this last season because I didn’t think M could handle seeing all those half-naked (half starved) models, but now I know I will never watch that show again (at least with M in the room) because he has seen Miss Heidi pretty much naked in very provocative ways. I hate all the layers to my trauma. Sometimes it seems as if there will be no end to the traumatic things I will have to learn and then cope with. The swimsuit thing is just more evidence of that.

P.S. Ironically, in the olden days when I first caught M with porn 17 years ago I asked him if he looked at porn as a teenager. He said no (more lies), just the swimsuit edition of that magazine that has nothing to do with sports. And, since I had never seen that magazine, I had no idea just how bad that piece of garbage magazine really is. Then again, he admitted to seeing it in the 1980s so who knows how bad it was then. I should google those images and see for myself. Nah.