As a woman in Vegas, it can be hard not to feel a little self-conscious. Okay, a LOT self-conscious. From the moment of arrival, visitors (and residents) are bombarded with television, print, marquees and billboards of young, flawlessly beautiful women showing nearly everything in poses that would make Kinsey blush.
All this after my travel diet of fries and fillet-o-fishes (Me: No mayo please. McD's: There's no mayo on it, just tartar sauce.) I'm feeling ... fat. Okay, not fat, but not like the women I've been seeing.
At Panera, I saw no less than two women with shorts so short the fold where the bum meets the leg was clearly visible. Why not? If you're used to having out at the pool, shorts must seem like ample coverage!
In this town, women are routinely treated as sex objects, and some of the ones who aren't (overtly) are basically grown women being treated as children. On the way in, I tuned into my favourite (broadcast) dance radio station. There was a lady calling in who self-described herself as a homemaker with an allowance. She actually used the word 'allowance'. It's been nearly 30 years since I had an allowance. I couldn't decide whether to pity her or envy her!
At any rate, men are definitely staring at me... funny, because I have nothing cleavage-wise for them to ogle. But, since they are used to a culture of beautiful women on display, they stare anyway. One guy in truck that pulled up beside me at a red light was actually craning his neck to gawk at me. I caught him doing this and gave him a look, but he was completely unaffected by it and kept staring as I returned my gaze to the lights ahead.
When I hear the compliment'ry whistle
That greets my bikini by the sea,
I turn and I glower and I bristle,
But I'm happy to know the whistle's meant for me!
- I Enjoy Being A Girl (Flower Drum Song Soundtrack)
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