Just stop.

I know, you aren’t used to seeing a woman who takes care of herself, especially one who is my age.
I know, I wear this corset well.
I know, you have pictures of someone very similar to me in your spank bank.
I know, when I’m dressed for an event I’m hella hot.
I know, you must think someone who looks like me should expect to be stared at.
I know, I seem absurdly confident.
I know, I seem like I have all of the answers.
I know, you’ve heard I’m a hard core player.
I know, I have an energy that people flock to.
I know, you’ve heard I’m poly and that makes you think you might just have a shot regardless of the collar on my neck and the cuffs on my wrists.
I know, I laugh easily, even around people I don’t know.
I know, my friendliness and easy smile make me approachable.
I know, when I go out in vanilla clothes, except for my hidden corset and the jewelry at my nipples, I still project my lifestyle.
I know, there are those of you who cannot help but stare.

Do you know how hard this is for me?
Do you know how heavy the weight of your eyes is?
Do you know that my energy is not an invitation?
Do you know that staring is not a form of flattery?
Do you know that when I’m struggling, your eyes make it ten times harder (at least)?
Do you know how exhausting it is to be watched as if I’m the latest 3D big screen?
Do you know you aren’t the only one watching?
Do you know that half the time I go to the restroom it’s because I need a place that I won’t be watched, even if it’s just for five minutes?
Do you know how hard it is for me to be out among this many people?
Do you know how vulnerable I feel doing this alone?
Do you know all the attention makes it worse?
Do you know that I’m aware that we don’t just happen to show up in the same areas?
Do you know that I know you’re following me from place to place?
Do you know that when I get up and move it’s because you’re creeping me out?
Do you know that this time I’m hoping you’ll give up and just stay put?
Do you know that I’m a flesh and blood human being?
Do you know that I’m not an exhibit?
Do you know that nights like this make me want to put every last ounce of that weight back on, plus a couple of pounds?
Do you know that my confidence is a carefully applied facade?
Do you know that having every last one of my coping mechanisms taken from me has me at the breaking point?
Do you know that inside I’m screaming STOP LOOKING AT ME?

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