This was was my feeling the day before yesterday: I’ve never been one to dress purposely provokingly. In fact, I get peeved with my fellow ladies when they chose to blatantly AND insecurely put it out there. It’s demeaning, unnecessary and pretty much guarantees that you will not get the phone call the next day. I’m not suggesting that you nun it up and hit the streets in your most fashionable sweats and burkas. Let the sexuality ooze naturally. Be the goddess you are.
FUCK THAT. Yesterday I wore my standard summer garb: Tank Top, jeans and flip flops. This particular tank is low cut enough to show a hint of what most Kabat women are blessed with. We have never been mistaken for men. Please know that Kabat females also have curses that might be the focus of a blog down the line. Gotta throw in some humility. Most of us New Yorkers choose to zone out as we walk our streets with Ipods, texting and conversations..with ourselves..in our heads.. Just the way we roll. Yesterday, I was in that aware mood and just decided to be consciously awake as I went about my day. I realized that a little subtle cleave made my life start working for me rather than against me. I got a free coffee, a guy gave me his seat on the subway and my neighborhood scaffolding guy asked for my phone number because I looked “smart.” Even more women wanted to be my friend.
I’m always up for a little self esteem booster. And of course winter will come and I will have to pay for coffee again. But for now my "sexy enough" tanks stays on.. in the name of social experimentation.
Tits are powerful.