When men like me I feel as though I am made worthy of praise
When women like me, I feel like I just came home after a long day
When men look at me, I feel like an object of desire, an accomplishment I can tick off my list
When women look at me, I feel relaxed, I feel free to be unbuttoned
Yet when I dress it is like my whole being is performing for the male gaze, the hyper-feminine touches: the curves, the cutouts and the pink blush on my cheeks
I need to be wanted but I want to be at ease