Page 88 of Beyond the Fame

I could easily get it from Lana or Mylan, but I’m scared. What if she doesn’t want to hear from me?

What if she does? What if you’re breaking her heart by not calling her?

I need my best friend. He’ll help me work this out.

Picking my phone up, I text him back.

Me: I’ll be there

The collar of the red dress shirt digs into my neck as I secure my black tie. I tug at it, trying to breathe as my anxiety chokes me. Tonight's fundraiser is a black-tie affair, so I’m wearing my favorite black tux.

It looks good on me. It's always looked good on me, but now my brain believes it. For so long, I refused to love myself because I let the world tell me I wasn’t worthy. That being fat meant I didn’t deserve to be treated like a human.

Then I met Lana four years ago, and she gave the world and their unrealistic beauty standard the middle finger. She stopped giving any fucks, and she was happy. She is happy.

Lana inspired me to start this body acceptance journey. I’ve been doing it for four years now. It opened my eyes to other aspects of my life. I diverted my focus from my body to my work. I made damn good films, networked my ass off, and landed on lists of the most desirable movie directors to work with.

Tabloids would still report on my weight, posting pictures of me out at lunch or at bad angles that made me appear fatter.

Jensen Boliver Gaining Weight?

But there’d also be more articles about my work and my success.

As my confidence grew, so did the way I approached others. I’m a quiet guy. An introvert, if you will. But I found myself starting conversations instead of being forced to join them. Women had always shown an interest in me, but I’d no longer be the leftover, paired with the friend who didn’t score with the sexy, built guy at the party.

The hardest part for me to give up were my comfort clothes. While I’d started testing out new clothes a month ago, this past week not wearing my long-sleeved flannels, the beanie hat, and jeans was the first time I’d finally felt like myself. I was still vulnerable, sure, but it was freeing. I even emailed my stylist, who was ecstatic—mostly shocked—to go shopping for an entirely new wardrobe for me.

It was a relief to have the weight of my toxic self-esteem lifted.

Forgoing contacts tonight, I adjust my glasses, choosing a semi, black-rimmed pair, hoping to appear studious and sexy-smart tonight.

Not that I have anyone to impress.

The clicks of my Dior dress shoes echo in the stillness of my Silver Lake home, reminding me of how lonely I am. How lonely I have been.

Spending time with Rebecca, waking up to her scent and her body against mine, makes this two-story home feel incomplete. I suppose it’s always felt that way. I filled the place with expensive furniture. The two spare bedrooms have never been used, and no one has ever seen the pricy artwork decorating the walls of my bedroom.

Because I’ve never wanted to bring a woman here. We’d always hook up at her place, or at the hotel I was staying at during a job, or in a bedroom at the home of whatever celebrity was hosting a party.

My home has never felt like my home because it was missing something.

It was missing her.

Fuck. I'm an idiot. I let her go.

My phone vibrates with the notification from the driver saying he’s arrived. I give myself one last look in the mirror next to the front door, pocket my house keys and cell phone, then head out.

The Gala, which is booze free tonight, is a joint-venture for Beyond the Bright Lights and the Tyler’s Team Foundation. Mylan and Lana’s charities. Both organizations help people during their worst days. Tyler’s Team assists families whose loved ones are undergoing cancer treatment or have recently passed, providing resources and support. Mylan’s foundation helps those recovering from alcoholism and addiction.

They'd invited me to this event a while ago and I said I'd come. I already donated a million dollars, half to each foundation. A part of me wanted to cancel, but tonight, Lana and Mylan are being honored with Governors awards for their work in the foundations.

They're good people. Inspiring. It makes me want to start a non-profit. It's actually something I've considered for a few years. I want to help men like me who have struggled with body dysmorphia. Something I didn’t realize fat people could have. I only thought it was for skinny people who viewed themself as overweight. My therapist told me anyone who feels uncomfortable in their body can have body dysmorphia.

‘It’s a mental health condition,’ she said. ‘You spend too much time worried about your appearance and how others view you, over-exaggerating your flaws when others likely don’t see what you see.’

Except, I'm a celebrity and my flaws are splashed all over the internet. All my life, even as a child, tabloids published articles about those flaws. I’m guessing that’s what caused my body dysmorphia.

But my therapist was right. I obsessed over my appearance, my body, for far too long.

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