Sexy, sexy.

I’m thinking about sexy. Yep, not about sex, but about sexy. I think our culture is steeped in mixed messages regarding being sexy. It’s not something for little kids, but adults talk about it all the time, so it becomes something kids want to be. As a woman, I’m not supposed to like, enjoy, or want to be objectified (and I personally don’t) but the overwhelming cultural message is that you really should be flattered, and happy, to be treated as “sexy”. It’s also strangely difficult to extract one’s own sexuality from the binds of being “sexy”, but not being “slutty”. Who decides the dividing line, anyway? If it’s on a magazine or a billboard, it’s sexy. If you actually dress or act that way, it’s slutty. WTF? And how about us “women of a certain age”? I don’t know when that age kicks in, but at 45, I feel a weird disconnect. I’m culturally pressured to act even more sexless than when I was younger. Young women are just in a constant state of conflict, trying to meet a lot of divergent expectations. Older women are living a different type of oppression. We are “supposed” to be even less sexy than young women, or, we’re supposed to get new boobs, asses, and cheekbones, so we can pretend we aren’t aging, and be “sexy” but also considered pathetic and ridiculous, and with no sense of self. All of a sudden, I’m supposed to wear pants suits and sensible shoes, and bras with lots of support. If I consider new tattoos and piercings, I’m being immature. So, it’s okay to want fake boobs, but not a nose ring. Hmmm. When I was younger, I used to color my hair blue, or bright red, just for fun. Now, I’m worried that if I color my hair bright red, people will think I’m coloring it because I don’t like my old lady gray. So now, I’m concerned about peer pressure?? I don’t know, the whole concept of “sexy” is pretty fucked up. I’m still thinking about it. I’ll write more if I figure anything out.

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