Sex sells

I just got thoroughly complimented on my backside!
I had a voice lesson today with my uber-cool teacher, Jessica. Jessica was in the original LA cast of "Hair" from '68-'71, she's got a killer voice, and she's an Obama volunteer!!! What's not to love?? I've met with her 3 times now, and we spend the first 10 minutes of each lesson talking about the crap being spewed in this campaign, mostly focusing on Sarah Palin, whom I truly believe is the worst thing to happen to women in this country since the advent of People Magazine. But I will speak no more of politics here... I had a great lesson, and then Jessica gave me a ride to the bus stop. For whatever reason, I decided to skip the bus and walk home. I must be getting used to the heat, because 95 didn't feel bad. And it's a straight 4 miles down Flamingo Road, so I didn't have to fear getting lost. I love to walk, it's one of my favorite activities, and the only walking I've done in Vegas is the casino Sports Book crawl with Alex. I was glad to put my feet to the pavement this afternoon. Unfortunately, I forgot both my phone and my iPod at home, so there was nothing for me to do but soak in the sounds of traffic on Flamingo. And I kept noticing the numerous taps of the horn as cars drove past. I noticed that all the honking was happening in the east-bound lanes closest to me. And eventually, I realized that they were honking at me! They were honking, and whistling, and clicking their tongues, and making lip-smacking sounds, and calling out, "Hey, Mommie!" Some cars slowed a bit, some drivers turned to get a look at the front side. Damn, my ass must be smokin'!
Not really. I mean, I was wearing sneakers, white shorts that run to the mid-thigh, and a black tank top. Nothing flashy, nothing special. I wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup, just some Carmex to keep my lips from blistering. My hair was all crazy from the wind. Truly, there was nothing special about the view of my rear side today. Much as I'd like to take credit for the frenzy created for these drivers, the reality is this: I am a woman, and as a woman, I am an object. I am something that can be beckoned like a puppy, snapped at like a servant. This town thrives on the objectification of women! Sure, I've gotten cat-calls and whistles before, in every city in which I've lived. But today, I got a taste of how women are truly viewed in Sin City.
It's not just the strippers or the call girls or the 24-hour "massage" parlors that are responsible for this objectification. (TIP: Don't ever go to a Vegas massage parlor with blacked-out windows, or one that advertises "All Kinds of Massage", or ones with names like "Lucky's" or "Golden Touch". Unless you actually want a Happy Ending. In which case, there's a massage parlor for you in every shopping center!) It's the billboards for upscale eateries, billboards which show no food, only a woman wearing lingerie. It's the taxi's advertising "Crazy Girls Revue" with a row of bare-assed women in bad 80's wigs driving in front of you. It's the clubs promising men that they'll find "no ugly women" inside. It's cocktail waitresses having to wear midriff-baring uniforms on their 7am shift. Yesterday, I saw a shoe-shine woman at Mandalay Bay wearing a mini-skirt and fishnets!! It's bowling alleys and housing developments and law offices, all of them advertising with beautiful nearly-naked women to get customers. Sex sells, and in this town, sex sells everything. As long as the sex is female.