Being a woman

When I lost a lot of weight during freshman year, I suddenly found myself smaller than most of the men around me. It was a weird, kind of deliciously sensuous feeling; men wanted to be around me (for non-platonic reasons). I was like, “Wow, is this how ‘normal’ women live?”

The implications of that became clear pretty quickly, however. I found myself repeatedly feeling like a marionette: purposefully draped, positioned, turned, and manipulated like something out a Nacho and Belladonna flick. Well… not quite like that, but with the same deliberation for many of the same motives–others’ fun and pleasure. Part of this is due to the men I was hanging around, but part of it just seemed to be the way things were if I didn’t actively resist (and sometimes when I did). It was suddenly safe for men to approach to touch me, maybe since a body check from me was less likely to do serious damage.

Was this what being a woman was? That, unless forcibly resisted, men take whatever physical liberties they can? Is this what it means to be feminine? To be manipulated by those around you endlessly, and to be okay with it? And if you aren’t okay with it in public (i.e., if you’re a “man-eater”), you better be a hell of a submissive in bed, and enjoy getting beat the fuck up, right?

I think my last conscious decision on this was that that was part of what being a woman was, at least in America or at Rose, or… or something.

That certainly makes being overweight and androgynous appealing, doesn’t it?