Vive la différance!
2:47 p.m.
In the not-too-distant past, a fellow blogger posted an entry on how he didn’t appreciate his wife dressing in a provocative fashion when she went out with the girls. His question was: “If I truly am ‘The Man’ of her life, why does she have to show off her boobs to other guys when in a girls’ night out setting?!?!” I left him a comment and then returned to see what others had said after me. It made me think that there is a blog entry of my own in there.
Many years ago, when there was still a Body Shop at my local mall (how I miss that store), the proprietor thereof, a woman I had developed a passing acquaintance with, was trying to promote awareness of violence towards women in an effort to ending it. At that time I expressed to her my confusion about a boutique whose sole purpose was the sale of cosmetics to women for the purpose of beautification supporting this campaign when men, whom we had to agree were ruled by their sex drive and little else, would find the beautification of said women encouragement to pursue appeasement of their own sexual needs. She disagreed with me, saying that women should be able to beautify themselves as they wish without regard for how it affects men, and men should realize that they must start behaving like creatures of reason and not driven solely by their bodily lusts.
That was then. I feel differently now, more as she did and less like I did formerly. The one thing that changed my mind was that I started belly dancing. Traditionally, belly dancing is an art form done by women in the company of other women. It is extremely sensuous and very sexual. But it was not originally for the purpose of exciting and entertaining men. It was, rather, a means for women to express their femininity in surroundings where they felt safe, respected and appreciated. I definitely feel more feminine since I began this exercise. My enjoyment of sex has increased as well, mostly because I am more aware of my body in a way that I was not hitherto. I appreciate it more. I also ache in joints I didn’t know I had after each class, but that’s another story.
I have a pretty good body for an old gal. I do. Stop laughing. In fact, my body excites me. In the same way that a person wears a beautiful piece of jewellery, a woman has assets that are hers alone and that she can show off if she wants to. Just as it would be in extremely poor taste for a stranger to handle your hand-wrought gold pendant without permission, it would be a terrible faux pas to manhandle a woman’s merchandise (which in itself is a terrible expression because it assumes that her assets are for sale). How much a woman decides to reveal is her business. But unless she is actually selling, touching is not permitted.
This brings to mind my shock at the way women dressed the first time I was ever in Paris, about 15 years ago. I thought they were all hookers until someone informed me that all Parisian women looked like that. If you wanted a hooker, you went to a certain neighbourhood. Otherwise, these were respectable women and you treated them like ladies. See how civilized the French are?
In North America we are still weighed down by the Puritan taboos that came over from Europe trying to escape religious persecution. When did the female body become something to shroud in mystery? Why should it be the female body and not bodies in general? What is it about breasts that give men (heterosexual men, anyway) “breast-induced brain freeze”, to quote Dave Barry? I mean, there are cultures in Africa (and probably South America) where breasts are never covered and nobody gives a shit. There must be something connected to having to wear clothing for warmth that has led to the body being such a secret place. After all, it is only in cold climates that these taboos persist.
In this particular day and age, we are more creatures of fashion than anything. Let’s face it, the fashion industry forced women into all sorts of incredibly uncomfortable garments throughout the ages, causing them to mutilate themselves even so as to be “fashionable”. Cinched waists come to mind, with women having their floating ribs surgically removed so they could get that waistline down to 16" (remember Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With the Wind?). This resulted in terrible pain during pregnancy and childbirth. No wonder so many women died. What were they thinking? Remember the mutilation of women’s feet in China? That was supposed to be a thing of beauty, but a whole class of girls ended up being crippled for the sake of “fashion”.
Suddenly, in the 21st Century, we find ourselves freed from many of the constraints that the industry tried to force onto us in the past. Let’s take women’s shoes as an example: We can wear any height of heel, platform or not, round toe or pointed, and they are all acceptable. Hemlines: Any length from micro-mini to floor-length is acceptable. We are living in the age of “anything goes”. I really, really like that; and, judging by the variety in fashion that I see on the women in my own community, everyone else likes it, too.
There is one fashion, though, that is quite prevalent. Suddenly cleavage is in. Everyone is showing off her décolletage, whether it’s a good idea or not (there is a woman who works in my department who is quite pregnant and throughout her pregnancy has worn rather low-cut tops, and it hasn’t been a pretty sight). Of course, no one is going to tell a woman that she really oughtn’t to expose her breasts in that way, in the same way that you never answer affirmatively to the question, “Does this dress make me look fat?”
But I am rambling. We middle-aged folks tend to do that. I meant to answer my esteemed colleague’s question as stated at the top of this post: “If I truly am ‘The Man’ of her life, why does she have to show off her boobs to other guys when in a girls’ night out setting?!?!” Because he is a man, and because he feels proprietary about his wife’s sexual parts (and breasts are sexual parts, believe it or not, even though they are only secondary sex characteristics, in the same way that pubic and underarm hair is), he does not appreciate her showing them off where other men can see them. However, if he had given her a beautiful diamond necklace or brooch and she chose to wear it proudly and openly where everyone could admire it, he would no doubt be proud that she wanted to display this item which he bestowed upon her. I’m not saying that jewellery and boobs are equal, I am only showing that they are beautiful things put on display for admiration.
And this, my friends, brings us back to the point I was bringing up with the belly dancing. When a woman knows she looks good, she feels good. When she feels good, she is going to have more fun, and when she goes out with her girlfriends for a night on the town, she wants to have fun. It’s part of that whole “girl power” thing the Spice Girls were so into, something which I didn’t really understand then, but appreciate better now. We are women, we are not going to hide beneath blankets or burkas or babushkas because the men in our lives cannot keep their own dirty thoughts under control. We are going to celebrate our sexuality with those people who truly understand and appreciate our femininity: other women.
That is one side of the coin. The other is that women are not stupid. Oh no, far from it. We know that our men are protective and jealous and we want to remind them whenever possible that they have a real catch. That is why a woman may dress like a slovenly hag around the house, but when she and her man go out to dinner, she turns heads. (This is why I have a problem with december5591’s comment.) In this way, he sees the effect she has on others and can gloat that she is with him. It’s a little mind game we women play. In the same way, when I am with my husband in public, I will flirt with other men because I know that there will be no follow through. I am unobtainable, I am safe. When I am not with my husband, I do not flirt. I am not on the market. My allegiance is elsewhere.
In conclusion: Many men, at least the ones who feel that a woman shouldn’t display her assets for all to see when they aren’t around to also see them, cannot get past the fact that women really don’t think like them. For us it’s not about sex, or conquest, or even breaking hearts. It’s about empowerment. Men are not the only creatures turned on by boobs. Women are too. Why is breast reconstruction after cancer surgery so important if not to enhance a woman’s self esteem? We define ourselves by our boobs. They are the first obvious sign of our emerging womanhood when we pubesce. They are symbols of sexuality, motherhood, and all that is feminine. We celebrate our womanhood with other women, and display our breasts because that is our uniting feature. If men can’t accept that, then they need to go to France and take a few lessons from the French.
P.S. Writing this blog has been an extremely interesting experience for me for I never put into words my thoughts on this matter before. I have been enlightened and hope I have done some enlightening of others along the way.
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