My stilettos, my choice. Your Hijab? You’ve been brainwashed!

c1492d1b9a40d95336eb738d895c9ae2Ever hear anything like this? “It’s shocking that Muslim women have so little say over what they wear. They say it’s their choice to wear the Hijab. They’ve been brainwashed! Their free will has been corrupted and they have no idea what real choice and real freedom is. Not like me. I know real freedom.”

You stand there in your size 9, 4 inch stilettos crammed with your size 9.5 feet, toenails painted and cuticles trimmed, leg hair ripped out by the roots with hot wax applied regularly. The shoes hurt but they make your legs look great.  You know you could wear flats… you choose to wear heels.

Your $12 ultra sheer super control top pantyhose do their best to contain that tiny tummy bulge but what it can’t hold in is managed by your Spanx. Your dress is exactly the right mix of professional and sexy so that your meeting today will go well; if your ideas don’t dazzle them, they’ll be hoping for a peek to determine of the colour of your $65 underwire push up bra and wondering if it matches your thong and whether you’re landing strip or clean. You choose to wax because it makes you feel sexier…

Your skin glows… it should, after being religiously scrubbed, buffed and exfoliated. You moisturize twice daily of course, to stay smooth and silky. Your makeup only takes a half-hour now, and you’ve narrowed the routine down to about 15 steps and products. The cost is alarming, but that’s how it goes. You choose to use good skin care and cosmetics; they are much more expensive, but they make you feel prettier…

Your hair… well, it continues to be a struggle. You are going grey and would like very much to let it go, let it happen. In your profession though, grey hair is an invitation to the younger, bolder, hipper folks to step in. You’re not quite ready to let that happen so it’s cut, trim, dye, streak, highlight, foils… you name it. You choose to colour your hair because you know it makes you look younger and sexier…

You pull on your exercise gear and go for a run a few times a week. You hate it hate it hate it and it hurts your knees but you only have a little time to exercise and you seriously don’t want to gain any weight over the winter. Your body needs to be bikini ready when you head to Mexico for a winter break. You may be getting older but you sure don’t want to seem like you’ve given up! And your man, well he likes you looking slim and hot and you want to keep him looking…

Women in the west are the most brainwashed in the history of the world, I would wager. I’m one of them. I have bought into the Virginia Slims, Coca- Cola-Calvin Klein-Betty Crocker-Cosmopolitan femininity construct as much as the next woman. I have no place, no right and no authority on which to judge the choices of any woman anywhere. My choices are the result of the brainwashing I’ve undergone my entire life. Here in the West, that’s celebrated as personal freedom.

There are lots of reasons to be angry about the treatment of women in other countries, under other regimes and political or religious systems. Squawking over women’s lack of choices is hypocritical at best so long as we continue to be pummelled with messages about how to be prettier, fitter, sexier so long as we keep making dolls for our daughters that look like little anorexic prostitutes. We can’t keep offering our own women the choice between being being blow-up doll bitches or perfect Pinterest moms while condemning the choices of others. We need to think about this…

Moral authority? We don’t have it.

Sorry… I’ve already taken off my bra.

Image

Is there anything better than that? Taking off your bra? Walking in the door, shedding the boots, the socks, the belt, the earrings and necklace, and ohmigodgetitoffbeforesomebodydies… the bra. I don’t care how much it cost. I don’t care how pretty it is. I don’t care if the girls look like a million bucks when I’m wearing it. For the love of all that is holy get the damned thing off.

I am a lot smarter about buying bras now than I used to be. I check the underwire… I know what’s likely to kill me and what’s not, but it’s not fail safe. Dammit, those cross your heart hope to die pieces of feminengineering are a pain in my….soft bits. That’s right. My soft bits.

Why the HELL do I wear a bra? I don’t even have much to lift!  I realize now, living with teenagers horrified by any suggestion that their old ma is actually a girl, that I wear a bra largely to hide the occasional nipple hard on, to keep the old girls from moving, and to keep everything “dignified”.

Seriously? I suffer this kind of indignity for other people? Not even for me?! Hmmmm.

Maybe a rethink is in order. Would you REALLY be that horrified by the actual suggestion of a nipple under my (not transparent) shirt?

Yeah right. As if I could pull that off without walking around with a concave chest, bent in on myself to disguise the nakedness beneath my clothes.

Alright. I’ll keep it on during the day but lordy lordy, don’t stand between me and hoochy girl freedom the minute I run through that door at day’s end. And don’t even bother asking me to do anything after 6pm most nights… once that straight jacket’s been removed I am in, baby.. in for the night!