I hate posting this so soon after my last post, but I'm feeling kinda strongly about it.
Sometimes I feel like, after everything I lived through that I wrote about in "Goodbye To Comics," that I should somehow be the martyr sitting chastely by the window. You know, the Victim -- or, as you might have it, the Survivor -- who now is so damaged and jaded by her past that she collects cats and writes volumes of sexually-repressed prose like Emily Dickenson.
But I guess what I am trying to say is --
Just because I had elements of abuse in my past does not mean I cannot be a vivacious, sexually confident woman now.
Just because I had one or two big incidences of harassment does not mean that now I somehow "learned my lesson" and walk around in a burka.
Sexual harassment or abuse has much less to do with how sexy you dress and how open you are about sexuality than you might think.
I was harassed more when I was 60 pounds heavier and wore big formless sweaters every day than now when I wear a t-shirt & ; skinny jeans & ; sport a cute blond hair style. Because now I have confidence -- and confidence weeds out more of the real bad guys than anything else. It's exactly when yo
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