At the risk of sounding like Busted, I'm a huge fan of sleeping with the light on. However, I'm not talking about it in quite the same way that Charlie Simpson was as he stole the heart of every girl (or guy) over the age of nine. Nor am I referring to the literal meaning of sleeping (although I am an avid napper). No my fellow humpday-ers, in this context, I'm referring to the good old nocturnal activity of rattling the mattress springs.
To put it bluntly, I enjoy sex with the light on. This didn't happen overnight - it's taken me a long time to be able to do so. Even when I was a slightly smaller size 14, I was always very self-conscious of how my body looked when in uncompromising, yet enjoyable positions in the company of a man.
It wasn't just about how ugly I knew my orgasm face was. It was everything about my body: the way my belly rolled or hung over; the way my thighs jiggled with every thrust or slap; the way my boobs flopped about everywhere. Even down to worrying about the two-day stubble on my labia and how it might irritate my partner. His prickly facial hair would rub my skin raw from kissing, yet I was more worried about what my genitals looked like to him. What's that all about?
It even got to a point where a previous partner noticed that I wasn't as forthcoming in the bedroom in comparison to when we first met. I'd become very conscious that I'd gained weight since we first got together, and I felt like he'd have a better time shagging Shamu. My weight had crept up by two stone and a dress size, and I was genuinely convinced that by being on top of him, my weight would cause him to break. This anxiety was accompanied by the (noticeably extra) sweat pouring from me after each session and my multiple chins hitting each other as though one was trying to knock the other out.
But one day, in the throes of a heated argument-turned-sex session, I realised only afterwards that we'd just had sex in full daylight. Fully naked. Where he could see every stretch mark and roll. And to my surprise, he hadn't run away in disgust. In fact, he admired my body and traced every curve of skin as we lay twisted around each other on the floor, and his admiration turned into round two.
That was enough for me to see the literal light. He loved my body and thought I was beautiful. He wanted to see me enjoying myself as I'd want to know he was enjoying himself too. Why should I deny both of us that experience because of my insecurity? Keeping the light on was the spotlight that I needed to raise my self-esteem and confidence, and I haven't looked back since. Sexual partners find the confidence enticing and pleasurable, and I haven't needed to change my body in the process. All along it was just my mind that needed that lightbulb moment, and now I never have sex in the dark.
Your stories - the good, the bad, the ugly, and the awkward, have continued to make our day, so as promised we'll share some more:
Every week, we want to hear YOUR stories.
This week, we want to know: have you been body shamed in the bedroom? How did you overcome it, or has it continued to affect you?
Send your stories via The Unedit's Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook. Keep 'em coming. (No pun intended.)