Me eleven years old.
They make me feel too exposed.
Too obviously female.
I like skirts with thick tights and flat heels.
I like tunics over jeans or floaty trousers.
But mostly I like jeans.
I received a very strange email from someone the other day, telling me how good they thought I looked in high heels and that I should wear them more often!
That was all he said in the email.
They were high heeled boot shoes, worn with thick black tights and a very plain cord wrap skirt.
I had assumed I would be safe from the sort of attention I received above.
As an early developer, I began to receive the kind of comments and attention from men that a thirteen year old girl just doesn't need. I began to feel unable to walk down the street without attracting this unwanted kind of attention. As a teen in the 70s, there must have been some strange post-contraceptive-pill-free-for-all when it came to the sudden accessibility of women to men.
In Britain there has been a lot of historical prosecutions by women that had been sexually assaulted or abused by men in the 70s. We have seen many once celebrated and now sad, bewildered, old men taken to task over their once, carefree attitude towards women. I am ready to bet that there are a lot of women my age remembering the same sort of over familiar touchy-feely attention they received from teachers and the like that men would not so easily get away with today.
We put up with it. Didn't we?
Anyway. This was not the sort of post Patrice A had in mind as a drawing challenge I'm sure.
(I promise next time I will make some attempt to draw/make something)
The last time I wore a dress I was married. 'nough said.
So, here I am, in my glad to be a girl, prepubescent years, modelling, one of the many, many, dresses that was made for me by my beautiful grandmother who taught me how to sew and is part of the reason I have started a new blog about my attempts to make my own clothes.