So, I was surfing the internet the other day and came across this video. I found it interesting because she was talking about being ok with your sexuality.. I know how difficult that is to do.
Owning Your Own Sexuality
The day before I was talking to a friend and we were discussing how I’m always hard on men but I’m super nice to women. I thought about it and realized that’s because I’m a woman and I understand how sensitive women are. I can curse a man out and he will laugh, smile, write me off and be friends with me the next day. Men take things I say very lightly. But with women, you can say the slightest thing to them and they become so deeply hurt. They can’t take in what they dish out. I’ve always been the type of woman who uplifts other women. People say I’m fake and always trying to give another woman the one up. But I say maybe I choose to see the positive in her. Not that I don’t talk about any woman. If you have micro braids that are half hot pink and half smurf blue, I’m definitely going to talk about you, right after I pull out my iPhone and take a photo of you to post on twitter.
When I’m out with a group of girls, I usually notice most of them women in the group scan the other women around them and often will have something negative to say about the other womens style/look/outfit. Meanwhile my mind is focused on me and if I do happen to scan my surrounding my eyes usually land on the hot chick who seems to have it all together. I love the beauty of a woman.
These same chicks who are scanning and saying negative things are also quick to say something to me about my appearance. It’s either I’m not perfect enough or I’m showing too much. I’ve gone through so many stages of life – from being a tomboy in my adolescent years to maturing into a sexy woman. The more I matured, the more in love I became with being a woman. I love the way we can dress to accentuate our shape. I enjoy the different colors of make-up we brush on. I remember back in Wisconsin, women used to turn their noses up at me when I was in the stores. My cleavage was always peeking. I never understand why women turned their noses up at me. Wisconsin was not the place for me. Moving to Vegas was such a breathe of fresh air for me. It was nice to be surrounded by women who were comfortable with their bodies. It’s acceptable to be sexy in Vegas. No one rolled their eyes at me for being me. Instead people embraced me. People asked to take photos with me.
Well all the accolades came within the first few years of my arrival to Vegas. Then the jealous women started to get in my ear. Then it was hey Kissy, you dress too sexy. Or you dress to nice. You need to dress more casual. I went in and out of stages of trying to tone it down. I called it “trying to look normal”. I wasn’t too happy with trying to look normal and blend in.
One night I went to a club with a friend and for once I threw on a t-shirt, some jeans and some heels. Something really bad happened to me that night. Something was taken from me. More than anything I didn’t understand what had occurred, or why. I was for once dressed casually. I was completely covered up. I would never expect a man to be so taken with me that he couldn’t stop but help himself to me when I was passed out. It was really confusing.
I struggled through this confusion about my identify for a few more years. More girls came along to talk about the way I dressed. Told me more decent men would talk to me if I just covered up. So I followed suit to cover up and yet still every man’s description of me seemed to be “sexy”. Even women would come up to me and tell me that I was sexy.
This is when I stopped and accepted it. I’m sexy. It doesn’t matter what I have on. I’m sexy. Even in a plastic garbage bag I’m still sexy. There is something about me that breathes and exudes sex. No point of me fighting it anymore. It is what it is. And I own that shit.
So it’s funny now when women don’t understand me. They think I’m odd or crazy cause I take half naked pics. They think I’m odd when I say what I want to say and do what I want to do. But you know what. It feels good being me. Cause for once, I know who I am and I love being me.