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“Aw, You Have Such a Pretty Face” she said
Oh God! Kill Me Now!
Once upon a time, I lost a bunch of weight during a bad breakup. The revenge body that followed pleased me. I did pull-ups and real man pushups and I wore a lot of bikinis and slutty dresses. I know. But it was fun.
Should sexy women accept inequitable benefits bestowed by the patriarchy? The Loni Andersons and Christina Hendricks’ of the world measure up, literally, to some creepy, sexual requirements; should they take advantage of that? If I can wear a low-cut something or a high-cut something and be promoted faster, am I obliged to cover my body, and focus on the quality of my work? In the name of equality? Maybe.
I skirted the moral question. With a miniskirt. I liked the attention.
I loved my work too, and was invested in its quality. But I wouldn’t say no if the hetmale Provost invited me to a cocktail party. Little Black Dress Time! Wooo!
My 20+years of Halloween Slut Mania ended when I put on 15 pounds. Life had me in its clutches — I was teaching an extra class, my primary relationship was a dumpster fire, and I was drinking a solid 700 calories in wine every night. Aristotle was right — we look like what we habitually do. I looked like a bottle of wine. And a bag of chips.
