Ladies,
I like to look pretty. I even like to look straight-up hot sometimes. (Can I get a whoop-whoop?) In fact, I do get a kick out of being the best-dressed person within a 50-meter radius. Judge me as you like, but I believe that I feel my best when I have made the effort to get done up and put on a nice outfit. As you can imagine, not everyone feels that way. Must you feel this way? By all means no. Freedom of expression means the right to choose to do whatever makes you feel the best. So go ahead, wear whatever you want to school, to house parties, the bars, or around your house. Be free!
But by all means, don’t go telling me what I am or am not.
I had the unfortunate experience of hearing the s-word applied in my general direction this weekend. Don’t go telling me, “It doesn’t matter, don’t listen to them, blah blah blah” cause the word slut used in earnest still hurts, every single time you hear it, no matter what you do or say.
It was a Thursday night at one of my favorite local bars, where the scene is pretty relaxed, much like any other Eugene bar. Since it was the one night of the week where I was not plagued by midterms, work, or early rising, I decided to do it right. I wore essentially the same outfit I wore to school: a big knit sweater, a scarf, a stretchy pencil skirt (knee-length!), a leather jacket, tights, and boots. For the evening, I ditched the tights and put on my instant-sexy secret: glitter pumps. (I recommend that every woman have a go-to pair of shoes for evenings out; they really bring the attitude.)
Anyway, I pranced around Eugene all evening in my collegiette-glory, as young and hot as I probably ever will be, truly enjoying myself. (Oh, to be young, alive, single, and semi-good looking! )
My bubble of happiness soon burst, however, as I walked with my friends and heard these nasty words flung from the other side of the cross-walk:
“Look at all these dumb sluts walking around. Like that girl! YEAH! YOU! YOU’RE A STUPID SLUT!”
In all of my 6-feet-tall-with-heels glory, I should have marched across the street and smartly replied, “Oh yeah?! Well you are just a small, sad, drunk woman with bad clothes and an ugly heart!”
Instead I could feel the shame creeping up my flawlessly made-up cheeks. I perplexedly batted my mascara-laden eyelashes and looked down at my glitter pumps, sparkling sadly in the glow of the street lamps, and frowned. At that instant I wished I had worn something different; I wished I looked like a nobody.
As we walked into the bar, however, I looked around me (really looked) at all the girls there. I studied their makeup, their jeans, their shoes, and the looks on their faces. The women with the biggest smiles, the happiest laughs, and obviously having the most fun were the women who had done something to look pretty. For some girls it was going all out, with make-up, dresses, shoes, the whole nine-yards. For other women it was simply wearing a shirt that made their eyes look amazing.
It didn’t really matter what the girls were wearing, simple or skimpy, but I can tell you right now that there were plenty of happy-looking women who may have been misconstrued as “sluts.”
As for me, I have come to realize that people who resort to insults such as “slut” or “whore” when they evaluate what a woman looks like are usually just jealous. Seriously. If you wear something that makes your legs look eight miles long, all the bitter self-conscious women in the world who can’t wear the same thing and produce the same results are going to be jealous. They might even make it known to you. Does that mean you’re a terrible person? Of course not.
So when you are debating wearing the mini skirt or the fat jeans, remember that you will have the rest of your life to wear fat jeans. There is only a brief window of glorious golden youth to shake what your mama gave you. Above all other things, never forget that…
HATERS GONNA HATE!