A certain type of SJW feminist likes to say that “women’s bodies don’t belong to society” as a justification for allowing women to make whatever damfool presentation decisions she thinks is a good idea at the time, like wearing short skirts and sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial so everybody can see her hiney. SJWs will also reliably get upset about misogyny if any woman dresses up like a streetwalker, goes out in public, and gets catcalled or propositioned by low-class men.
The truth is, though, that everyone’s appearance DOES belong to society, because people have these things called “eyes” that they use when they’re out in public, and if you’re out in public too, people can’t avoid seeing you. How you choose to appear in public is a nonverbal method of communication that other people are perfectly justified in using to make assumptions about your personality. (It is absolutely ludicrous to pretend that this isn’t so – I have terrible fashion sense but even I have rejected clothing on the grounds that “it just doesn’t fit me.”)
Of course, if anyone points out that certain presentation decisions reliably act as red flags – short hair and tattoos, for example – the legions of SJW worker ants come out in a frantic attempt to rebuild the mound, lest any of the crazy women be made to feel bad about her choices.
Here’s the thing, though: if you wear a whore’s uniform, you don’t get to be all shocked and offended that men treat you like a whore. You don’t get to decide unilaterally what kind of appearance signals sexual availability – that’s something that society “decides.” If mentally unbalanced women all make similar personal appearance choices, you don’t get to be upset if people think you’re mentally unbalanced if you make the same decisions. Hair, clothing, tattoos and piercings – all of it means something, but you don’t get to decide what it means to other people. (H/T The Other McCain)
However, those of us who are not spoiled-First-World-brat princesses, can actually use this to our advantage. I used to wander around in old sweats from my ROTC days at home; now, however, my go-to “throw this on because I couldn’t care less what I’m wearing before coffee in the morning” outfit is a dress. The miracle of modern fabrics means I can grab some cheap little summer piece at a discount store that never wrinkles, wears well, and is extremely washable. (I’m going to be stocking up my leggings and long-sleeved undershirts to wear under such dresses now that the weather’s turning colder.) I still have to rebraid my hair in the morning or the cloud of wispies gives me away, and I’m pretty much convinced that makeup is a vile but necessary invention of the Matriarchy, but revamping my wardrobe so that I present myself the way I want others to see me is not a difficult chore or some kind of dreadful imposition on my individuality.
Besides, wearing dresses instead of pants most of the time feels delightfully counter-cultural, as well as just looking better on females like myself who are working on losing some excess weight! Pants are really not the overweight big-bottomed girl’s friend, and I don’t care what Meghan Trainor has to say about being “perfect” or “bringing booty back.” (Her BMI is probably lower than mine anyway, to be honest.) When it comes to weight and appearance, I’m not on the side of fat acceptance – but I’m not on the side of fat-shaming either. That’s a more complicated issue, given that the dietary advice people have been given since the USDA food pyramid was invented has been… less than helpful, and weight gain and loss is not exactly the kind of instant-result decision that clothing, tattoos, piercings, and haircuts are.