Compliments

Somedays I wish I'd receive more compliments. Other days I wish I had never received any. Maybe if I received more compliments I would be more secure in my looks, more confident. Maybe if I had never received any compliments, I would have no conflict with thinking that I am unattractive and undesireable.
But, I am attractive.

It's one thing to be noticed and appreciated. It's quite another to be the object of one's staring. Half the time, when I leave my home, I am met with the latter. I live in a neighborhood where the men were never taught how to appreciate women, so I get everything from a souless stare to a hungry stare - like that of a wild dog.

I know there are women who feel invisible and wish they had this complaint. I honestly wish I wasn't complaining. My complaint has less to do with the action and more to do with the affect the action has on me.

Last night I was thinking about the fact that I really don't like leaving my home without an escort. I was thinking this while I was in bed, cuddling with my husband. I feel the safest when I am in bed with my husband. Realizing why I don't like leaving my home without an escort made me cry a little. Knowing that I could feel so safe and so unsafe in the same day scared me.

I know there are those who wish to do harm to young attractive females. I know that those who wish to do harm to young attractive females do not fit a stereotype, do not have a look, or a script, or anything else to bind them except their wish to harm.

I was once the victim of someone who did not fit any stereotypes. I am much too aware of how fragile my safety truly is.

When I leave my home without an escort, I feel bare and vulnerable. I probably would not feel any more vulnerable if I were to walk outside with no clothes on. This is not the fault of those who stare.

Surviving abuse is like surviving a nuclear bomb - surviving the explosion is the easy part, it's the fallout that kills you slowly.