For years I have struggled to accept the fact that the way I look in a tank top comes off more “sexual” than if I were flat-chested. And once again I was reassured by the media that someone with my cup size should always be covered up. Or what, I’ll be seen as a slut? You understand that I want to drain the s-word of its misogynistic venom and correct the idea it conveys: that if I take a variety of sexual partners or I present myself in an alluring way I am somehow morally bankrupt and asking to be hit on, assaulted or raped.
Definitely what’s in the heart is most important. I have the right to be gross, to have hair, to be slow, to put on make-up, to not put on make-up, to wear fake eyelashes, to smell good or bad, and to be a human being. I am not his dog or his lawn or his living room. It’s said that the clothes make the man, but he or I can also make the clothes. In my case, it’s estimated that a single appearance in a designer’s outfit is worth as much as $14 million.