I’m Sexy and I Know It (Not Really)

Hello again!  Apparently people like reading about the lives of cripples (who’da thunk it?).  My last post crushed all of my others by at least three times the views.  Thank you for that.  It’s kind of creepy, considering I’m not all that interesting, but yeah… thanks!  Since I’m still out of ideas for writerly topics and have no pictures of food to share, I thought I’d continue in the more personal vein to see if last week was some weird fluke.  Rather than focusing on general cripple life, I think I’ll talk about sexiness!

Over the past year or so, I’ve read quite a few articles about crippleness and everything from fashion to sex appeal (usually from male perspectives).  Pile that on top of a ton of negative commentary on how males objectify females (but never vice versa which is total crap), and it spawns many an eye-twitch inducing moment, but I always manage to keep my mouth shut.

Pretty much.

You see, unlike most of the females I know (and a number of the males), I’ve never had to endure wolf whistles and cat calls and all of that creeptastic behavior.  Why?  Because (biologically speaking), I’m undesirable as a potential mate.  When straight males look at me, that primal part of their brains that focuses on reproduction isn’t activated.  I know that, and over the years, I’ve come to accept it.  But because of this lack of being lusted for (yeah, I went there), it grates on my nerves when I hear how horrible objectification is.  Don’t get me wrong, when it’s creepy and makes someone uncomfortable, it’s B-A-D bad, but a random “looking good” from across the way isn’t.  Being constantly overlooked or not considered mate-worthy isn’t as nice of a thing as many people imagine.  Keep that in mind the next time you’re so disgusted with the person who whistled at you from the other side of the street.


On the flipside of growing up without being sexually objectified (yes, there are other kinds of objectification I’ve encountered), it has forced me to learn how to look at myself and acknowledge the sexy bish inside since no one else is going to do it.  It’s exceedingly rare for this to happen, but it does.  Also, it’s a fairly recent development, so it still weirds me out a little.  I mean, I constantly hear about how you have to learn to love yourself and how you shouldn’t need the validation of others (which is theoretically true), but I wonder if people realize how much easier said than done that is!  It’s taken me near thirty years to accomplish it, and it’s still something I can’t admit in the moment.  Only when I’m looking back can I say “Damn, I was sexy there!”

In my Sixh top and the pants I designed.
Why yes, that is a riding crop in my hand.

Self-perception is everything, but it’s fed by public-perception, so the next time you’re walking (or rolling) down the road, throw someone a whistle or a “looking sexy” or “cute top” or “great shoes” or something.  Then, you keep going so you don’t make it creepy.  Yeah, some people might accuse you of being a perv depending on your statement, but you never know whose day you might make a little brighter.

Moving Forward and Looking Back

Howdy, again!  It’s May 12th, as I’m writing this.  According to Facebook’s “On This Day” thing, I graduated from Southern Methodist University exactly three years ago.  I never really put much thought into this supposedly momentous occasion.  I had my issues with SMU (some of which I will probably complain about here), but it was always just a necessary stepping stone to me.  It wasn’t a big deal for me or anything.  It’s funny how time changes your perspective on things like this.

The obligatory fountain picture, again.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that SMU held a lot of firsts for me.  It was my first major unpleasant experience with lack of accessibility issues.  It’s a major university with millions and billions of dollars being sunk into its sports programs and stadiums, so of course I assumed it would be entirely accessible.  But you know what they say about people who assume things!  Yeah, I learned my lesson.  (Major eye-twitch inducing moment for me.)

It was the first place where some of the classes actually challenged me.  That was an impressive experience.  My first C+ on a test, however, was not as impressive.  And yeah, I know that sounds cocky, but it’s true.  School was always a place where I excelled.  The real world, not so much.

It was also the first place where my graduation day was uneventful (like no broken bones and no family squabbles).  Yeah, I had serious bad luck with my previous two graduations.  I really didn’t want to go through another, but I did, and it wasn’t bad.

Dallas Hall… I could get in the basement, but couldn’t fit in the elevator. Good job, SMU! Also, the date is wrong. This was some time in April of 2012.

Anyway, it’s three years later, and I’m still in touch with a number of the faculty (I fully admit SMU had an awesome faculty and staff, despite my other issues with it).  I didn’t come away with many friends (one who I keep in regular touch with, and two I fall in and out of touch with every now and then), but I wasn’t looking to make friends at that point, so I’m okay with that.  For someone who was in “get in, get degree, get out” mode, I’m impressed by the connections I did manage to make. 

Now, I’ve got a Master’s degree, which I wouldn’t have gotten without my SMU adviser’s advice, and letters of recommendation from others at SMU.  I’ve made a number of connections during my time in my Master’s program, some of which actually tie in with my SMU connections.  I’m in the process of cleaning up a novel that started as a short story in one of my SMU fiction classes.  I learned very quickly what kind of critiques to take to heart, and which to brush off thanks to my writing classes at SMU, which made my time at Stonecoast that much easier.  So yeah, I guess SMU was more than a stepping stone after all.

SMU Mustangs. Pretty sure this was the day or so before graduation.

Why am I rambling on about all of this?  Honestly, because I couldn’t think of anything productive to write about.  But sometimes it’s good to take a look back, especially at things you took for granted.  It often gives you a new perspective to move forward with.  And moving forward is all we can really do, right?