Ban leggings on campus? Ludicrous – wearing leggings allows women to move like superheroes

Here’s an interesting piece by one of my female followers.

I’m writing this at my office computer wearing leggings and a short skirt. I wear the leggings because I ride my bike to work and they keep my legs warm. I add the skirt when I get to the office because most here would consider leggings alone inappropriate work attire for a middle-aged academic administrator.

After this week, it’s clear that some people don’t think they are appropriate attire for students on campus either. Maryann White, a mother of four sons, made news with her plea in a letter to the University of Notre Dame school paper that female students should stop wearing leggings and choose clothing that’s less form fitting. She worried her sons are being distracted and thinking disrespectful thoughts. She asked girls and women to make it easier for her sons by wearing jeans instead of leggings.

In response to White’s letter, social media feeds quickly filled with photos of women and men at Notre Dame (and around the world) wearing leggings, #leggingsdayND. Even “The New York Times” chimed in with Vanessa Friedman’s piece “It’s Possible Leggings Are the Future. Deal With It.”

One subject that gets everyone talking during my women’s studies feminism and fashion seminars is dress codes: school dress codes, summer camp dress codes and dress codes at the gym. My students say it’s hard to keep track. Does this place allow sleeveless tops? Can you show any midriff? Are there rules against yoga pants here?

Why all the fuss about what women wear? Women’s bodies and the clothes we wear are a battleground around the world. Some situations have rules that require religious body coverings and other places forbid those same coverings.

Leggings are only the latest focus for arguments deployed by conservatives since before ankles became a source of public scandal.

Policing women’s bodies

Maryann White said her concern was for her sons and their virtue.

Since we ought to treat other persons with respect, no matter what they wear, blaming leggings for her sons’ feelings fails to teach them responsibility for their thoughts and actions.

Her plea constitutes one small increment on the spectrum of responses that puts the blame on women for men’s lack of control and sexual violence. How often do we still hear the question, “Why was she dressed like that?”

When a woman is sexually assaulted, why does the public still think about her clothing choices? As if those choices provoke and justify violence.

White insults the integrity of her sons if she blames their actions and lack of self-control on women’s clothing choices.

There exists considerable gender asymmetry in clothing codes when determining what counts as uncovered or indecent. Women in leggings are fully covered. Men in shorts aren’t — their skin shows. Yet, there are no letters to the editor complaining that men in shorts are distracting to other male or female students.

Often complaints aren’t about clothes as much as about policing women’s bodies. Many leggings critics say they are fine if women with the “right bodies” wear them.

I began by mentioning age as a factor, but it’s also about size. Young women who get in trouble for wearing prom dresses that break rules are often larger women.

Women with small, “tidy” bodies rarely run afoul of dress codes. Women and girls with large breasts get in trouble over wearing certain tops at school. In the case of leggings, women with large bottoms are said to be doing something wrong. And fat women can never get it right. Some bodies break all the rules just by existing.

Ubiquitous leggings

Why are leggings so ubiquitous? I wear them because they’re comfortable, easy to find, not size fussy and toasty warm in the winter. They’re also good for hitting the gym if I have time to spare between meetings.

I can run in them if I need to and bend any which way I want. Unlike skinny jeans, leggings give me a full range of motion, at least as much as this middle age frame allows.

Different items of clothing cause controversy because they spotlight aspects of women’s lives and bodies that make us uncomfortable. I think the backlash against leggings stems from our discomfort in seeing women in athletic wear in general.

Leggings are functional and practical. They make me feel a bit like a superhero, ready for action. Usually, women are tacitly rewarded for not taking up too much space, for being inconspicuous. Leggings, superhero-dom, can contravene those expectations in delightful ways.

The debate over leggings seems trivial. But, that’s another double bind for women and clothes choices. You’re not supposed to take fashion and clothes seriously even though our clothing and the codes and values our clothes transmit have tremendous social impact and make a real difference to women’s lives.

Whether our leggings are affecting vulnerable men should not be the question we are asking. It should be, why are these men so weak? And why does this woman feel it’s incumbent on comfortable bike-riding large and small superhero women to take care of her sons?

 

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Happy 4/20 – Everything You Need to Know About Legal Weed in Pennsylvania

prescriptions
Africa Studio/Shutterstock.com
prescription weed
Capjah/Shutterstock.com
growing pot
Photolona/Shutterstock.com

 

 

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Sun Stories: Kita – Chapter 4 – Entanglements- Part 2

Hank texted her on Instagram and asked her about her situation

JR had basically blown her off after 4 years and discarded this delicious beauty. Dude, she’s so nice and sweet. How could you discard such an amazing  lady?

So this new guy is seeing her and it’s going well cause he’s nice to her and that’s all she wants. She says she likes white boys and this one isn’t much better looking than the last but if he’s nice to here and that’s all that matters.

Noted…

 

‘”He lies to me. He went out to a club and said he was home.”

“We’ve grown apart.”

“I can’t have a liar in my life”

I juice her with all of my amazing relationship philosophy. She needs this. I’m happy to help this poor heartbroken girl.

“She knows at 21 she’ll leap to a new guy named Hank. He’s nice and treats her well. He Dm’d her on Instagram and that’s how it’s done now. Hopefully he’s nice or at least sends out his best representative for our dear Kita.

He simply Dm’d her on instagram. (Direct Message)

It’s that easy now.

I would have given her and her friends tickets to my show back in the day and close her properly on the bus… but I digress. (she’s a nice girl)

I adore this girl, and I’m thinking about her and I know this is just a phicklephiily surge. I’m in a relationship and I’m just having a moment. Just like I always do.

Nothing will happen.

I love Cherie and I’m just having my usual nonsense.

I would like to figure out a time I can have lunch with her though. I can’t help it. I just want to be around her (and those legs) as a trusted mentor that would love to just hang and help with wisdom.

But I’m old. I should enjoy the limited time I have with anyone at all. I thanked her for giving me the hour out of her amazing delicious life to sit and talk to me.

That’s enough. That’s all I get of this girl.

Maybe I can get more.

I’m delusional.

That could never happen.

Yea… I’m done. She’s 21. I’m insane.

 

I just want to grab dinner with her. That’s all. I’m in a relationship but my love is absent and I just want to have dinner Philly style.

I won’t do anything….

 

Kita has become new #1 at the salon because she is the queen of tanning. She really has become the woman who represents what we do.  She has that certain something that lights me up.

I’m praying as I write these words on many levels. I want my girlfriend of a year to come down here this Friday night and embrace the love that we’ve found. But I want to do much that this Wednesday night I am sitting having dinner with lovely Kita. Munching her beloved salmon and looking to me as a mentor. Would I like to split her like a ripe melon? Of course. But that’s not what Kita needs right now. Her Admiral Navy dad would have me assassinated .

I’m in love with my girlfriend, Cherie. I love our limited time together. We are Motley Crue when it comes to sex, but I miss getting pizza and a movie with my love. I’m not getting any younger and if I can only see my devoted once a month because of school and career I will seek other people for companionship. I won’t cheat baby, but I just want to eat some noodles with you and you’re never around. I know you’re working toward a degree and I am somewhat loyal to you, but occasionally  I would like to tip a glass.

I miss you all the time. You are probably one of the best most loyal women I have ever met and I would consider spending the rest of my life with, but right now we are all in flux and I need to lean into that.

So in the meantime when you’re absent I’m eating gelato.

I love you Cherie, but I am what I am.

Kita says she like white boys…

 

 

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Sun Stories: 9 Tanning Salon Horror Stories That Will Make You Say “Gross”

We’ve seen some strange things at out salon, so I decided to ask some other people that have worked in the industry for their crazy stories.

Enjoy!

 

1. The number one with a mullet.

“I worked at a tanning salon in high school. A weird middle-aged man with a mullet came in for a one-time tan. He thought it’d be a fun time to jack off in the bed and come all over the inside of the tanning bed. I refused to clean it.”

 

2. The stick-ons.

“This happened to my sister, not me, but one time she went tanning the day of homecoming and came home a little pink from being burnt. She didn’t really think much of it and preceded to get ready for the dance, which included putting on stick-on bra cups. Fast forward to the end of the night, she went to take off the stick-ons and the skin on her tits proceeded to rip off with them. She lost at least layer on each and could only wear loose tops and no bra for a couple of weeks. She says to this day that it was the most painful experience of her life, including child birth .

 

3. The first job.

“I worked at a tanning salon for two years, and by deep-cleaning the beds, we found some nasty stuff. A co-worker and I found a USED panty liner, a used condom, a pair of soiled panties, and SEVERAL empty liquor bottles. This was my first job and I was 16 to 18 years old cleaning this stuff up! PEOPLE ARE NASTY.”

4. The eyewear.

“I once went to a tanning bed with some friends. The lady at the desk asked, ‘Do you have any eyewear?’ And I said yes. She then said, ‘Is it on you? I need to see it.’ Thinking this was weird, I said yes and went around the counter to show her. This entire time I thought she was saying, ‘Do you have any underwear? Is it on you?’ I proceeded to partially pull my pants down so she could see my ‘underwear’… She looked at me in disbelief while my friends laughed at me. The woman yelled, ‘No I meant EYEWEAR!’ I didn’t have any eyewear. To this day my friends won’t let me live that one down.”

 

5. The forgotten friend.

“One time someone left a vibrator in the tanning bed.”

 

6. The wastebasket.

“I worked at a tanning salon for a pretty long time and you realize people do some weird stuff (like wear sunscreen in the bed, what’s the point). The weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me was going into the spray-tan booth to clean it after someone got a spray and realizing they peed in the waste basket. It was a middle-aged woman who made no attempt to clean it up, just left. The bathroom was across the hall from the room. Such a joy cleaning that mess.”

7. The broken fan.

“I went in a stand-up tanning booth once and after a few minutes realized how unbearably hot it had gotten in there. I looked up and noticed the fan wasn’t moving…because a dead mouse was lodged in it, its legs and tail dangling down toward me.”

 

8. The selfie.

“I’ve worked at a tanning salon for eight or so years, and a ton of crazy stuff has happened. We’ve had a gorgeous guy who peed in the trashcan (despite the bathroom 10 feet away). Then a blind, elderly woman accused me of stealing her weed she thought she left in the room but that she had actually left in the car. Also had to help a woman delete a naked picture she took in the room off of her Snapchat story because she did not know how.”

 

9. The super gulp.

“I have worked at a few tanning salons over the years throughout high school and college, and I’ve seen almost everything from self-pleasure to a guy who left streak marks across the bed. But the one that takes the cake was the person who brought their 60-ounce Super Gulp into our standup bed and dumped it all over the floor, fried the circuits, and started a electrical fire in the wall and left without saying a single word.”

 

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Tales of Rock – SPECIAL REPORT – Dick Dale, Surf Guitar Legend, Dead At 81

Dick Dale, the surf rock pioneer who took reverb to new levels, died on Saturday night. He was 81. The guitarist’s health had declined over the past 20 years due to a number of illnesses, including diabetes, kidney disease and rectal cancer. The news was confirmed to NPR by Dusty Watson, a drummer who worked and toured with Dale between 1995 and 2006, who says he spoke with Dale’s wife, Lana Dale. No cause was given.

Dale, born Richard Anthony Monsour in 1937, changed the sound of rock and roll in the early 1960s when he upped the reverb on his guitar and applied the Arabic scales of his father’s native Lebanon. Born and originally raised in Massachusetts, he found his aesthetic when his family moved to Orange County, California in 1954 — where he took up surfing.

His high-energy interpretation of an old song from Asia Minor, “Misirlou” (Egyptian Girl), became the most famous song of surf rock: He had learned the tune from his Lebanese uncles, who played it on the oud.

“I started playing it,” Dale, who had started out as a drummer, told NPR in a 2010 interview, “and I said, ‘Oh no, that’s too slow.’ And I thought of Gene Krupa’s drumming, his staccato drumming… When we went to California, I got my first guitar, but I was using this rocket-attack, Gene Krupa rhythm on the guitar.”

And that wildfire-tempo song became his signature: Dale self-released “Misirlou” as a single on Deltone Records in 1962, which led in part to a deal with Capitol Records to distribute his first album, 1962’s Surfer’s Choice. Dale’s first album for Capitol was 1963’s King of the Surf Guitar; he said that fans at an early show came up with the honorary moniker.

Dale’s collaborations with guitar inventor Leo Fender also made sonic history. “I met a man called Leo Fender,” he told NPR, “who is the Einstein of the guitar and the amplifiers. He says, ‘Here, I just made a guitar, it’s a Stratocaster. You just beat it to death and tell me what you think. So when I started playing on that thing, I wanted to get it to be as loud as I could, like Gene Krupa drums. And as I was surfing, when the waves picked me up and took me through the tubes, I would get that rumble sound.”

Fender and Dale also worked together on amplifiers, Dale told Fresh Air‘s Terry Gross in 1993. “I wanted to get a fat, thick, deep sound,” Dale remarked.

Fender kept trying options, but Dale still wasn’t satisfied. “We kept on making all these adjustments with output transformers, with speakers,” Dale told Fresh Air, “and that’s how I blew up over 48 speakers and amplifiers. They’d catch on fire, the speakers would freeze, the speakers would tear from the coils … So he went back to the drawing board came up and invented the Dick Dale Showman amplifier, and the dual Showman amplifier with the 15 inch Lansing speaker. That was the end result … along with the creations that we did on the Stratocaster guitar, making it a real thick body because the thicker the wood, the purer the sound.”

Three decades after he first released his most famous tune, Dale and “Misirlou” had a wave of resurgence after the song was featured in the opening credits of Quentin Tarantino’s 1994 film Pulp Fiction. The movie’s soundtrack sold more than 3 million copies and helped put surf rock — and Dale himself — in front of a new generation of music fans. New compilations were issued and he was even booked on the 1996 Warped Tour.

Over the decades that followed, he released two more albums and kept playing in front of live audiences. “I make my guitar scream with pain or pleasure or sensuality,” he told NPR. “It makes people move their feet and shake their bodies. That’s what music does.”

Rest in peace, Mr. Dale. You will be missed, but your unique sound lives forever.

 

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The Beach House – Chapter 2

It was about four o’clock when I finished the final load a laundry. It being summer, I still had a good four hours of good beach time left. I grabbed a book, donned my swimming trunks, and headed to my lounger. I mentally kicked myself for forgetting to research a self-adjusting umbrella. I began to adjust the umbrella and felt a sharp pain in my ankle as my foot dug into the sand. Something jabbed me hard right below where the ankle bone stuck out. I whipped my foot up and saw two small welts just above the heel. It didn’t look that serious although it was a bit sore. It must have been some glass or something in the sand. Just another thing trying to ruin my day.

I lay on the lounger and opened my book at the marker. It wasn’t a great book, but I had a rule about finishing every book I start. It even paid off one time with a fantastic ending that made the slog through the rest more than worthwhile. I flexed my leg and ankle a bit trying to shake off the noticeable discomfort from the sand bite. I figured I would be stuck with the pain till I was able to sleep it off tonight. I went back to my book.

An incessant uneven humming began to disturb my world. I looked up from the book and saw a boat breaking the waves not far off shore. It seemed too small for the ocean. Every time a wave went by, it pulled the small engine out of the water and it emitted a high pitched scream. Fucking idiots. They had a whole ocean to play in, and they picked my back yard. I went back to my book figuring they would pass in a moment. The engine got louder as I read.

I looked back up and saw the small craft heading toward my beach. It sounded like the throttle was opened all the way. I lost the grip on my book and it dropped closed. “Son of a bitch!” I said as I realized I would have to spend the next five minutes trying to find my place again. I was really beginning to dislike the captain of the annoying vessel. The boat wasn’t slowing and was still heading to my beach. If they thought they were landing here, they had better think again. I grabbed my phone in case I had to call the police.

The boat began veering off to the left toward the breakwater. The idiots should be able to see the rocks. That’s all I need is a smashed up boat to ruin my pristine view. “Hey, wake up!” I shouted and waived my arm. The boat kept coming and didn’t slow a bit. I screamed again, signaling with both arms, but the boat stayed to its course and slammed into the rocks. I heard wood give way when it hit and saw what looked like a naked body fly out toward the rocks.

I stood quickly from my chair. A little too quickly as my leg had seemed to go numb a bit. I moved toward the shore trying to work the sleep out of it yelling for whoever would listen. “Hey asshole! This is a private beach.” I received no response, but saw something bobbing close to shore. It looked like a body. Fuck, that’s all I need. Someone came all the way to my house to die. I moved quickly to water in hopes of forestalling a visit from the coroner. My arm didn’t really want to cooperate as numbness ran up my side and toward my neck. I moved quickly into the shallows and rolled what I now realized was a naked woman onto her back.

She sputtered a little water out of her mouth and looked up to me with hugely dilated eyes. “Should have just left me,” she said with a Spanish accent before she broke into laughter. Pissed, I grabbed her wrist and began pulling her lethargic body toward the sand with my good arm. Her head was oozing a bit of blood although it didn’t look too serious. Suddenly, pain forced me to my knees. Something was really wrong. I didn’t have any energy to stand back up. My whole chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. I dropped her arm and remembered my phone. I picked the first number in my recent list and dialed Monica.

“Monica… Monica.” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t have enough air in my lungs. I realized I might be dying. A wave a fear ran through me. I wasn’t ready to go yet. I haven’t even finished the book.

“Fuck! You’re having a heart attack!” The woman sat up, and two rather attractive breasts bounced on her chest. She was failing miserably at trying to hold back laughter. My vision was drifting in and out which made the whole situation surreal. I fell backward, half in and half out of the water. She grabbed my phone before it got wet. “Mr. Private Beach needs a doctor.” She laughed into the phone and threw it over her shoulder into the water. The last thing I remember was her Spanish laughter as she straddled my stomach.

 

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Racquel Writes! There Is Enough to Go Around

via There Is Enough to Go Around

 

http://www.racquelwrites.com

 

 

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