The Masseuse’s Retouch
Establishing Context
Today, I want to open up about something that’s been weighing on my mind—pun intended. Many of you know me as Hillary: the chubby, busty masseuse whose aim is to fulfil the innermost fantasies of my clients, whether as girlfriend for the hour or simply a comforting presence and warm touch. But there’s more to this masseuse than meets the eye.
When clients view my photos through the screen without the context of my body language and voice, they often draw certain conclusions. From my gallery of perfectly posed stills they reasonably assume that this Hillary Vixen is confident, dominant, poised, and self-assured. They see a woman who knows her worth and, even better for them, isn’t afraid to flaunt it.
But, behind the scenes, my journey to self-acceptance has been anything but linear. I want to share my metaphorical travels, the insecurities I’ve faced, and how I’ve learned to work with them to create the unique, warm, and welcoming experience for my clients that I’m so known for.
Awkward Origins
Growing up, I was entirely unrecognisable as the woman you see today. Measuring 5’9″ by the age of 14, I towered over my peers and even many adults. My frizzy, mousy hair seemed to have a life of its own, my teeth were misaligned and overcrowded, and my skin was so pale it practically (definitely) glowed in the dark. Add to that eclectic mix a shyness so intense that I couldn’t make any semblance of eye contact with anyone, and you have a recipe for social invisibility—or even worse, the wrong kind of visibility.
In an era of sun-kissed tans, silky straight blonde hair, and blindingly perfect smiles, I felt surrounded by Pamela Anderson lookalikes. Meanwhile I was a hulking and frumpy wallflower, the exact opposite of the early 2000’s sexual icons. I distinctly remember being viewed as distinctly not a romantic or alluring figure, but rather an eyesore of a presence. These moments stayed with me, making me feel forever like a reject even as I’ve matured into an entirely different person.
The Transformation
For a very long time I felt like an outsider in my own body. I was stocky and awkward, with glasses that seemed to emphasise every flaw. I never felt desirable, never felt seen in the way that mattered. Every glance in the mirror was a reminder of what I wasn’t. It felt like if a normal girl was looking at the grotesque caricature in a fun house mirror, my reflection would be looking back at them, full of exaggerated features and an utter lack of pleasing symmetry.
During those years, I often felt like a mismatch with the world around me. Social interactions were fraught with anxiety, and I struggled with the feeling of being judged for my appearance rather than my true self. I would shy away from attention, avoiding situations where I might be scrutinized. The discomfort was almost palpable in the air. This sense of being perpetually out of place left a lasting impact on how I viewed myself and how I interacted with others.
But let us fast forward to now, and things have changed dramatically in the physical sense. Braces straightened my teeth, my frizz has transformed into chestnut curls, and my body has found a balance that I never thought possible. My peers caught up to my height, some even surpassing it, so now I sit on the taller end of average for a woman. Tall, to be sure, but not freakish. My pale skin, once a source of insecurity, is now often described as soft and inviting.
Yet, even now with all these visible improvements, there are moments when I’m massaging a client and catch a glimpse of my own reflection, triggering a fleeting doubt about my worthiness to be admired.
Dealing with Attention
But here’s the thing—I don’t always know how to feel about the newfound attention. I used to imagine receiving the exact compliments I do now, and fantasised daily about how reaffirming that would feel, and desperately craved that physical and emotional validation. But when clients express attraction to me now, there’s a larger part of me that still expects to receive revulsion. When they grab a handful of my stomach, hips, or thighs, I’m bracing myself for a reaction of disgust that never comes. Instead, they claim to find these parts of me tempting, even beautiful, and I find myself feeling skepticism as opposed to the warm glow of validation I always expected.
“Have I somehow tricked everyone into viewing me differently than I really am?”
It’s a thought that plagues me daily, and the mistrust creeps into my work before I know it. For instance, when a client compliments my appearance, I often question their sincerity. I wonder if they’re just being polite, or if they can smell my lack of self-esteem and are trying to flatter extra services out of me, all because I find it so damn difficult to accept they may simply be genuine.
Reconciling my Reflection
Impostor syndrome is a constant companion. It whispers that who everyone sees now isn’t really me, and that their approval and attraction are based on some elaborate illusion. I worry that one day the facade will crumble, and everyone will see me as I have long seen myself—undesirable and awkward.
However, I’ve come to realize that my insecure former identity hasn’t been entirely eradicated; rather, I’ve learned to work with her. This very part of me that weighs me down with doubt also helps me come across as inviting, welcoming, and non-judgemental. Clients who suffer from similar feelings of inadequacy recognize this in me and find comfort, trusting that I will not ridicule their flaws because I myself understand the feeling.
They see that I’m not an unattainable ideal. I’m not photoshop-toned or blemish-free. I could be any cute girl you notice at a bus stop, or that curvy neighbour you keep failing to strike up a conversation due to nerves. I represent the daily fantasies, not the grandiose ones.
This relatability often comes up during sessions, where clients feel at ease sharing their insecurities because they trust that they won’t be judged for them. Later, they return to my massage table because they feel a sense of normalcy and acceptance there. To some, I am a reflection of their own desires and dreams without the intimidating gloss of perfection.
Behind the Scenes
Being a plus-size masseuse and online presence comes with its own unique set of challenges. There’s a vulnerability in presenting myself to the world, in sharing my body and my persona with clients who often project their fantasies onto me. It’s a job that requires a certain level of confidence and comfort in my own skin, yet I’m often wrestling with the ghosts of my past insecurities.
Another way to look at it is that my job boils down to being a blank canvas, with my clients’ needs, wants, fantasies, and desires mirrored back to them. Part of my attractiveness is not in my actual appearance, but more the sheer averageness of it. My look is relatable and attainable, like a girl-next-door vessel for their daydreams. I think for many men pursuing such an idol feels safer and more accessible than the unattainable ideals often portrayed in the media.
And so each session is a balancing act; I strive to provide a genuine, comforting experience for my clients while navigating my own feelings of inadequacy. It helps to remind myself that beauty is subjective, that the person they see—Hillary, the warm, inviting, chubby masseuse—is real to them and deserving of their admiration. Before each session, I take a moment to ground myself, remind myself of the positive feedback I’ve received, and recall the genuine connections I’ve forged with clients.
A Message to Others
So, to anyone out there struggling with similar feelings, know that you’re not alone. Our pasts shape us, but they don’t have to define us. It’s okay to feel uncertain, to grapple with self-doubt, and to question the validation we receive. In fact, it’s normal. This girl right here sitting right here on her laptop here is a self-proclaimed master of it, where people who know me only through a barrage of selfies might perceive me as a vixen.
Perception is the most subjective thing in the world. I’m not my own preferred kind of beautiful, but that’s okay. Another person might consider me the utmost ideal. The scariest mental hurdle to overcome is the simple act of trusting that their perception is as real to them as yours is to you. What matters is the journey toward self-acceptance, one step at a time. Every day, I encounter clients who remind me of this truth, and their stories of overcoming personal challenges inspire me to keep pushing forward.
Remember, it’s not about being perfect; it’s about being real. Each of us has our own unique beauty, and it’s the imperfections that often make us relatable and truly attractive.
Your support means the world to me, and I hope that by sharing a bit of my story, you can find some comfort and understanding in your own journey. Thank you for taking the time to read my less sexy thoughts.
With love,
Hillary