12/03/2006

TWENTYsomething

Just who are we kidding?

By Beth Milligan
Local columnist

It's an all too familiar scene.

We're at the bar in our usual booth, watching the evening traffic come through. Two girls walk in wearing tight pleather skirts and what appear to be halter tops made out of dental floss. Appreciative whistles echo out from around the room. A guy in the corner nods and grins at his buddies.

To everyone's amazement, the girls make a show of being offended. With as much dignity as they can muster in six-inch snakeskin heels, they hike their purses under their arms and stalk indignantly to the bathroom.

"Guys are soooo lame,” I overhear one say to the other as I walk in. The girl is artfully applying glitter to her collarbone as she complains.

"I know, right? It's soooo disrespectful,” says the other as she adjusts her floss strings to cover her barely concealed chest.

Suddenly, in jeans and a tank top, I'm feeling entirely overdressed.

Perhaps I'm too modest to make it in the cutthroat bar scene. In the past, people have blamed this on my religious upbringing, or told me I've been indoctrinated by a patriarchal society to be ashamed of my body. People have also said that as a woman, I am being repressed by Victorian-era values passed down through previous generations. (Those "people” are usually frat boys at parties with clearly ulterior motives, but I digress.)

To me, it's much more straightforward. It's just an issue of self-respect.

I'm not ashamed of my body. In fact, I like it so much that I generally reserve the right to not have it slobbered over by Midlife Mike or Dropout Danny anytime I happen to be out with friends at the bar. However — and this is an important however — I also fully accept that if I walk in wearing a leopard miniskirt and matching cone bra, I've basically nullified that right for the evening.

I understand that if I grind on a table in the middle of a crowded room, or drunkenly make out with my female friends, that people may, in fact, stare at me or make inappropriate comments. I also accept that my boyfriend has a right to be furious with me if I do this once, and to dump me for a girl with more self-respect if I do it twice.

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Newton knew this, and he was a cranky old scientist who never set foot in a Streeters. So what's our excuse? How can we, the women of the 21st century, be as hip and cynical and culturally aware as we generally are, and yet so utterly oblivious to the messages we project through our appearances?

I make no excuses for guys who cross the line or act inappropriately because of the way a girl is dressed. People are accountable for their own behavior no matter what the circumstances.

I would suggest, however, that if girls don't want guys slobbering over them at the bar, they don't dress like they want guys slobbering over them at the bar.

What we hate to admit, of course, is that that's exactly what we want. No girl reaches in the closet for a halter top and short-shorts and thinks to herself, "I hope Jason is really interested in my mind tonight.”

So we have two options. We can either dress a little more consciously, or we can be honest about the fact that yes, we are dressing this way deliberately to get attention.

Many girls are simply more extroverted and more comfortable in skimpy clothing than I am. I realize this, and that's why I'm not condemning provocative fashion, but simply encouraging women to accept the realities that accompany it.

If you want to be taken seriously or treated with respect, an ill-fitting tube top won't do the job. But if you just want to have fun and flirt with a few guys, it'll likely do the trick.

What's important, in the long run, is learning to recognize which goes with which.

Reach Beth Milligan care of the Record-Eagle, 120 W. Front St., Traverse City, MI 49685; or send e-mail to: beth.milligan@gmail.com. Visit her blog, www.myspace.com/bethmilligan.