Page 57 of Beyond the Fame

“It took me a long time to accept my body and weight. I’ve always been chubby. I got roles because I was chubby. Of course, the roles were always so demeaning. My character was often the butt of the joke. Did you know my first ever kiss was on a TV show?”

I caress his chest, his stomach, his arms. His tension seems to fade away with every brush of my fingertips.

“The kiss was embarrassing. First of all, I was only seventeen. I didn’t know what I was doing. But mostly, it was embarrassing because the storyline was about a bully paying a girl to kiss my character in front of the entire school and say she was grossed out by it. Can you imagine? Your first ever kiss being one big joke because of how you looked?”

“Jesus Christ, Jensen. That’s horrible.”

He shrugs underneath me. “I know.”

I gently place kisses along the same spots my fingers just caressed, letting him know to keep talking.

“Being a man and fat is more acceptable than being a woman and fat. I understand that. But being famous and fat makes it harder to ignore the criticism. Especially since I grew up with it. My fatness always overshadowed my talent. So, I did everything I could not to open myself up to those criticisms. Like fucking in the dark so women wouldn’t see me naked during sex. Not letting them touch me. I took control in the bedroom to protect myself from any judgement they may have had. It got so bad that about a year before we met, I started hiding myself in public with my clothes.”

“The long-sleeved flannels,” I say, piecing it all together.

“Yeah.”

“What about your tattoos? You got them just to hide them?”

“I got the tattoos for me. To remind myself that no matter what the world thought, I still had things I loved like thunderstorms and nature. Things I was passionate about, like watching movies and directing them.”

“But you’re not dressing like that anymore? You’re not covering them up?”

“No.”

“Why? What changed?”

“Before this trip, I had a session with my therapist. I told her about Ginger’s threat about my wardrobe—”

“Ginger threatened you?” I gape at him.

“Yeah, she told me no flannel or beanie caps allowed.”

I bury my head into Jensen’s stomach to hide my laughter. I didn’t hide it very well because Jensen chucks the blankets off me and spanks my bare ass so hard, I yelp. It's still sore from his insistent spanking a few minutes ago.

“Done laughing?”

I pinch his nipple, and he feigns pain.

“Anyway, I’ve been working on my body image issues with my therapist for a while now. I don’t know, I guess the lumberjack hipster look, as you all like to call it, became a comfort to me. I didn’t have to think about what I was wearing. People would see the clothes before my body. It was a relief. That being said, I knew the long-sleeved flannels, jeans, and beanie weren’t practical for a tropical island. So, I ditched them for this trip.”

“And how does it feel? Not having your comfort outfits?”

“It’s been... nice, actually. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments.”

“So, it was Ginger’s threat that ultimately forced the change?” I muse.

“Honestly? Lana kinda inspired me. She doesn't give a fuck what the media says about her body. At least, she doesn’t let it affect her. So why should I? I’ve been following her lead for the past four years, and I’m still adjusting, but the idea of silencing the public’s view of me has been liberating.”

Liberating. I haven’t felt liberated since I was a kid. I sit up. “I have an idea.”

I crawl out of the bed and stand.

“Let’s go skinny dipping.”

He laughs. “What?”

“It’s 4 a.m. The sun rises in a couple of hours. Let’s put on our bathing suits and go swim, then ditch the suits and fuck in the water. Then when we’re done, we can watch the sunrise.”

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