Monday, July 21, 2003

No, you’re not hallucinating. I have actually updated my blog. I’ll give you a second to recover from the shock.

All right, then. Part of my excuse for not updating in some time (the only remotely relevant part) is that I have been travelling these past two weeks. I spent some time in Seattle with my best friend, which was wonderful, and later went to San Diego to attend Comic Con 2003. There was a particular incident there I’d like to share with you… well, perhaps confess would be a better word.

I must first say that the Con was amazing. I had the opportunity to meet and pester several of my favorite artists, and meet some new ones. I’ve set up links to a few of them in my links section. Many of the attendees came in costume, myself included.

There was a girl among them, the top of whose costume was merely two wide strips of tape, made to look like suspender straps, covering her breasts. That is to say, covering a three-inch wide strip of breast each.

Who came up with the idea that a woman’s nipples have to be showing in order for it to be considered nudity?

Every time I saw her, I made a point of looking away. Unfortunately, male eyes reflexively move toward bare skin and tight clothing, so the image won’t be leaving my mind any time soon. It’s true, by the way. The thing about the eyes moving reflexively. I’m not making this up. It’s an automatic process that I frequently have to fight. It’s not to blame for all lechery, to be certain, but it does happen. Something to keep in mind, ladies. I for one am trying to fight the impulse, along with a lot of other guys, but it’s tough. You have to be very conscious of things. Case in point… read on.

On the second to last day, I was walking along with a friend, when I was stopped by a young woman. She complimented me on my costume, and I thanked her. Quite suddenly, I recognized her as the girl. I hadn’t realized who she was at once because she was wearing clothes at the time, more specifically a small blue tank top which may or may not have actually been a bra. Ironically, as I recognized her, she turned around and said casually, “Oh, could you undo me, so I can be in costume too?” I was confronted with a tiny white clasp and a ton of implications. Even as I considered saying no, my hand moved to the clasp and slipped the two pieces apart. “Sure,” my mouth said, and the implications hit me. The girl turned back around, and I looked away. Our conversation continued a few phrases more, which I have understandably forgotten, and we went our separate ways. My friend must have thrown me one hell of a smirk, but I didn’t notice. After a moment’s consideration, I realized what my next blog post would be about.

I should have said no. It could have been quite awkward, but I should have said no. Why? Her costume was among the most distracting, lust-inspiring, degrading things I have ever seen. I was disgusted, and I told my friends as much when she inevitably came up in conversation. I wasn’t disgusted with her, mind you, but with what she was doing. What she was wearing. I don’t know her. But I know what her breasts look like. That is a tragedy.

So what, you ask? Someone would have helped her out, anyway. It’s not like I could have stopped it from happening by refusing. That much may be true. But I had the option of not involving myself at all. Further, I had the opportunity to make a stand, to say “no” to something which was wrong. And I missed that opportunity.

I still can’t get the image of that girl’s chest out of my mind. Sadly, I barely remember what her face looked like. There are perhaps hundreds of men, young and old, thinking back on Comic Con and not even trying to remember her face. That’s what disgusts me the most. Her body was a weapon of distraction and temptation for so many of us, whether or not she meant it that way.

To the girl, and all those who laid eyes on her... I’m sorry. I’ve done you an injustice. I should have said no.