Sexuality Sucks, Part I

Something is plaguing me!

...

In terms of physical appearance, there is a huge difference in me depending on whether I try or not. Most days I don't - I will go to the supermarket or traipse off to university wearing no makeup, hair scraped into a half-hearted ponytail, old high school rugby jumper that would be big enough for three of me. It is hideously unattractive, but I can't be bothered with anything more the majority of the time.
When I do try, I will actually brush my hair, maybe put lip gloss and mascara on, put together an outfit rather than just wearing clothes. The differences seem inconsequential, after all, when I 'dress up' I'm certainly not Oscar-ready. But the feeling of being slightly more attractive seems to fuel up other aspects of me: I stand up taller, I smile more, I feel more confident, feminine and capable.

Now confusion sets in: we have established that I am capable of looking bad and slightly alright depending on how hard I try. I am also one of those poor girls who manage to get preyed upon by seedy old (and young) men constantly. But there is no easily ascertainable correlation between whether this happens when I'm 'hot' or 'not'.

When I was about 15, I had to come to Melbourne for an appointment, catching public transport and everything. I ended up getting hideously lost on Collins Street (so clueless..) and wandering up and down, looking visibly distressed. Enter self-styled 'savior' - a suave but overly flashy Italian man in an expensive suit and even more expensive car. He looked so.. rich, except for touches of crassness - fluffy dice, unruly eyebrows, too shiny and gold watch. He pulled his car up to the side of the road, calling out, "Hey darling." I kept walking. "Hey, sweetheart, I won't bite."
I kept walking straight ahead, but still didn't know where to go. Eventually I turned back to him and walked over to his open window. "Hi, I'm not from around here, and I'm so lost.. can you please help me?"
"Sure, get in and I'll take you wherever you need to go."
"No thank you, I just need to know how to get to Flinders Street station."
"Please baby, you're beautiful, I just want to get to know you. We can go to the beach, I'll take you shopping, you're so gorgeous, don't run away." At this point he reached up and stroked my cheek. Tears just started falling - fear and confusion was coursing through me, and I didn't know how to escape.
"No, I can't. I just need to know how to get to Flinders Street station."
"Turn right at the traffic lights." He pulled out from the curb and u-turned, but I noticed him driving very slowly and watching me from the other side of the road. Each time I looked up, he would nod or smile at me. So I ran away through alleys and side streets, eventually getting myself even more lost. For the record, I was 3 hours late to the appointment.
On this particular day I had come to Melbourne straight after working my old job at the theatre school - I was wearing grubby black overly stretched dance clothes, falling off my shoulders like garbage bags, I was pale and gaunt, looking like a frightened mouse. Attractive? I should think not.

Fast forward to last Christmas, my Myer days. I adored that job (and want it back!), and it showed in the way I presented myself. I wore stilettos despite the fact that I could barely walk at the end of the day, I would wear black dresses to work that bordered on corporate-sexy, always perfect makeup, always shiny perfect hair. I tried really hard.
But nobody really noticed. Even walking home from work late at night, despite looking hot, nobody approached me.

Which leads me to think: could confidence be a scary thing? It seems often that the times when I am picked on the most are when I appear most vulnerable.
Analogy: imagine two equally gorgeous women in a club, scouting for a man to buy them a drink. One is obviously a prostitute, the other is obviously a lawyer. Comment call - how do you think that men would treat these respective women?

Part Two will discuss.. other stuff.

Elle is taking black and white photos of Lucien and I for a media project on the weekend. She even said she'd edit out the pimple on my jaw! Ha, but they should be hot. If she lets me, I will post them.