One day when I was naive a romantic-looking man said hello, walked with me from my city stop (I lived in the city). I studied him. His features were soft and pretty, his hair golden and wonderfully curly, he spoke in pleasing tones, had a half-shy, easy manner about him. So I was not afraid, I was flattered, felt comfortable, said yes to lunch with this angel before I'd head home. All this felt utterly natural to me. The man and I quickly became friends, we had much rapport. Walking me home, he picked roadside flowers for me so I was touched, just like in the movies. I let the man in my apartment, happy in his company, curious about him, trusting his gentle manner so far. And my art modelling job wasn’t till later that afternoon in a nearby college. Forward to his seduction proper, so natural, I fell easily. And then this awful wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am handling of me, the man now turning ugly and then cold, hurriedly leaving without a word when he’d got what he came for. I reported to my art modelling job in a state of shock. As was required of art models, I stood very still and naked in a couple of poses for an hour while artists drew me. I was female body both to the artists and that man. But the artists would later show work celebrating the female form while I was mere electric socket to the latter. Back home that evening, I buried my face in my pillow and sobbed myself to numbness. #MeToo (one of) © Magdalene Carmen
+ (sardonically underscoring 'moments like this') American Vintage Ad WWII Jantzen Swim Wear 1943 via https://envisioningtheamericandream.com/…/rosie-the-rivete…
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AuthorMAGDALENE CARMEN Archives
December 2017
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