My Tits are Terrifying!

OH MY GOD, RUN!!

All right, this is going to be one of those disorganized rant posts. I’ll try not to repeat myself too much, and I will limit my ellipses…

…dammit, I love these things…

Okay, okay, I’m stalling. I’m stalling because I’m worried about this post. I don’t want it to come across as whiny. I guess we’ll just see how it goes.

Anyway, story time! I recently went through another one of my crafty phases, and I started making body chains. Apparently I have a knack for them! It’s become a bit of an obsession. Beads and pendants are surprisingly expensive, so I’ve taken to cannibalizing old jewelry and making some unique pieces. I’m actually thinking about maybe opening an Etsy shop once I get a little better with the technique.

Adesso, as the crazy kids of my generation are wont to do, I have been discussing these body chains on my Facebook. I made an album and posted pictures. And this is where the trouble started.

Here are some of the pictures I posted on my Facebook album:

I'm particularly proud of this chain.

Roughly 99.9% of my darlings were supportive and enthusiastic about my new projects. A great deal of them also complimented me on my figure, maybe cracked a few jokes. It was all good, and I got a nice ego boost, both creatively and physically, from friends and family.

However, there was a small but vocal pocket of people who voiced their, let’s say, “concerns.” I got texts and messages from these guys saying things like:

“Why are you posting naked pics of yourself?”
“Cover up/wear a top!”
“No one’s looking at the jewelry and you know it.”
“You should really think about the things you put on the internet.”
“Don’t you know what people think of you when you post pics like that?”

I'm no Venus, but seriously.

I wasn’t terribly shocked by this response, but it still infuriates me. It really does. I try to focus on the positives, but these little “concerns” really get under my skin. Without getting too preachy (hopefully), I have a few points to make.

First, in defense of myself: I have never cared if someone doesn’t like me because of something I was (or wasn’t) wearing. I’ve always worn what I want when I want to, and the vast majority of people in my life are well aware of that. They may occasionally break my balls for going to a bar in a low cut top, but they don’t criticize or condemn me.

I hear the arguments from well-meaning people now, “Well, Dee, your friends don’t judge you, but they know you. What about the strangers at the club who just see a chick in fishnets and booty shorts dancing around? They don’t know you. They’re going to think you’re trashy.”

There’s a simple answer to this: I don’t give a fuck what those strangers think. Fuck ‘em.

Wow, how easy was that?

Seriously. If you’re someone who judges other people by what they’re wearing, who won’t even bother talking to someone because you think they’re too scantily clad, then you’re not a person I want to get to know. So go on rolling your eyes at this little half naked bitch. I couldn’t care less.

But this is just me defending myself in a pissy manner. I’m actually more annoyed by what’s at work in the minds of friends and family who are so very concerned with the fact that my body is on display.

I have body image issues. Most women do. I know where mine come from, and a part of it has to do with how we were raised. I’m not talking about my parents here so much as my school environment. From the minute we hit double digit numbers in age, my hometown school (like most schools, I’m pretty sure) started restricting what we wore. I can’t speak for what the boys weren’t allowed to wear, but I remember the girls’ “rules” all too clearly: Our shorts and skirts couldn’t be shorter than where our fingertips hit our legs when we had our arms at our sides (which sucked because I have these crazy long monkey arms. Everything of mine had to be practically knee length.) We weren’t allowed to wear spaghetti strap tops, and sleeveless was also forbidden if teachers decided the straps were “too thin.” Once we had breasts, you weren’t allowed to see a speck of them. You could get away with lower cut tops of you were flatter chested, but if you had any cleavage, you were in trouble.

I disagree with every bit of this. My reasons are best illustrated in an incident that occurred recently, and if you’re interested, you can read it here. I think telling kids to cover up their bodies insinuates that there’s something wrong with them, that the human body is shameful or disgusting. I won’t hop on a soapbox here, because I haven’t done the proper research, but I see a strong correlation/possible causation between restricting young girls’ bodies and the horrible body image(s? Aiutami, grammar gods!) women collectively have in this country. And if they don’t have a bad body image, they’d better not admit it, or they’ll look like a conceited bitch.

But my biggest issue with people giving me shit over these revealing pictures, and how I dress and dance and even behave with my friends, is the overwhelming message I hear in their criticisms: Sexy is bad.

Hey, little bitch. Did you know that FUCK YOU?

If you want to be sexy, you’re shallow. You’re trashy. You’re easy. And if you’re easy, you don’t deserve respect. And from feminists? If you want to be sexy, you’ve been brainwashed by the patriarchal society we live in, subconsciously forcing you to bare your breasts and shave your legs and wear high heels. If you’re the least bit proud of how men see your body, you’re a feminism failure.

Give me a fucking break.

Look, the bottom line is this: I don’t see sexy as shameful. I don’t see it as shallow. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be sexy. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying compliments about your figure. I enjoy (some of) the attention I get. I hesitated writing that, and I’m mad at myself for it. Fuck it. Of course I enjoy attention. We all do*. Why the fuck are we ashamed of it? When we think we look good, we like others to think so, too. That’s why we get dressed up when we go out. That’s why Instagram exists.

I think everyone should be able to wear what they want, take whatever kind of pictures they want, without people telling them that they’re being trashy or giving the wrong impression to other people. I mean, I had people flip out about that picture of me with the white scarf thing over my chest, but not me in a bikini top. Seriously? What is so scary about seeing my chest without that little string of fabric cutting across it? That’s the only difference! Pictures where I don’t have a bra or a bikini top or something that breaks up my mid line are the ones that people freak about the most, even if I’m more covered up in them than in others. I know, this is stepping into rant territory, but I seriously don’t get it.

Be sexy if you want.
Side note, this unphotoshopped movement is awesome.

All right, ending this train wreck of a post. Lessons to take home:

1. The human body is not scary or disgusting, and constantly telling someone who isn’t flashing people on the subway to cover up is obnoxious and, in my opinion, hurtful.

2. It’s okay to want to be sexy. So be sexy.

3. Body chains are awesome, and you should buy them from me when I start selling them.

Ah, wink.

*This should go without saying, but I’m positive it’ll bite me in the ass if I don’t say this: Attention and harassment are two totally different things. So don’t tell a woman she’s asking for trouble when she wears revealing clothing. Grow the fuck up.