"I think every woman does
want to be objectified. There's a little part of you at all times that hopes to
be somewhat objectified, and I think it's healthy." - Cameron Diaz
Pay attention to me. Worship
me. Love me.
These are the whispered demands of an insecure woman. A woman who
doesn't know her worth. A woman who believes the only way to obtain her worth
is to take it.
Sexualize me.
This is the demand of a healthy woman. A woman who knows she has
sex appeal and isn't afraid to invite others to the party. At least, that's
what we're led to believe--led like a blind, domesticated animal to the altar.
But wait. Do we allow ourselves to be tamed, caged by bars of insecurity? Do we
readily offer up a sacrifice that will leave us with nothing? Because if we're
so sure about who we are, why do we need someone to confirm what we already
know? There must be some inkling of black doubt clouding our minds. Maybe we
don't burn as hot as we think we do. Maybe no one else sees what we see.
Maybe we see what we want to see.
See me.
Alive. I'd rather be alive than inanimate. Maintaining my freedom
eclipses hot sex and a cold heart. I long for more. I don't want to be
sexualized. I don't want to be some menu item at the drive through of
conquest. The thrill may be intoxicating. The power that comes with breaking
someone’s will to resist temptation may overwhelm. And maybe it’s fun for a
little while. Maybe it provides that much needed boost to the self-esteem, but
to have a man drool over me like a full course meal is nothing special. I want
to be loved.
Romeo objectified Juliet. Their “love” story was a really a story
of epic lust and Scarlet O’Hara loved no one but herself. People are confused
about love. They have been since the beginning of time. Magic, sorcery, voodoo,
lust. Love is none of these. And every woman wants to be loved, but somewhere
along the way they were tricked. Tricked into believing that the best they can
do is objectification. Tricked into believing they’ll only amount to a good
time in the bedroom Still, the whispered demands grow louder.
Adore
me.
But I won’t join the
desperate murmurings. Remember, I’m an individualist. If every woman wants to
be objectified, then I am not every woman. This is not a hostage situation and
I won’t demand my worth. I’ll own it. It’s already mine.
This is the demand of a healthy woman. A woman who knows she has
sex appeal and isn't afraid to invite others to the party. At least, that's
what we're led to believe--led like a blind, domesticated animal to the altar.
But wait. Do we allow ourselves to be tamed, caged by bars of insecurity? Do we
readily offer up a sacrifice that will leave us with nothing? Because if we're
so sure about who we are, why do we need someone to confirm what we already
know? There must be some inkling of black doubt clouding our minds. Maybe we
don't burn as hot as we think we do. Maybe no one else sees what we see. 
