It's A Dress Not A Yes

Oh, let me regale you with a tale,

Of the fashion choices that make me wail,

For it seems, in this world, quite absurd,

That my wardrobe is an invitation, I've heard.

In my youthful days, I'd put on a dress,

Unaware it was a sign of distress,

For apparently, my dear lads and gents,

My clothing decisions are in your defense.

Who knew that a dress could be a decree,

That I desire your gaze so keenly?

Oh, yes, my choice of attire, you see,

Is solely to please your eyes, decreeing decree.

When I slip on those high heels so bold,

It's not to feel confident, I'm told,

No, it's a signal, a siren call,

For men to leer, to leer and enthrall.

How foolish of me to think it's my right,

To dress for myself, with no plight,

To enjoy fashion, to feel so grand,

Without your prying eyes, roaming, unmanned.

But wait, there's more, my dear friends,

For even when covered from end to end,

In modesty's shroud, from head to toe,

Still, I'm an object, an open window.

No matter the fabric, the length, or style,

Your wandering gaze never ceases to beguile,

You see, my dear men, it's not about you,

It's about my choices, my freedom too.

So spare me your leering and judgmental looks,

Your misguided assumptions and ignorant crooks,

For my clothing, my dear, is not a yes,

To your creepy advances, I must confess.

I dress for myself, for my own satisfaction,

Not to appease your insatiable attraction,

My body, my choices, they're mine to make,

Not an invitation for your pleasure to partake.

So let me be clear, in case it's been missed,

My wardrobe is not a contract, a tryst,

It's not an approval for you to creep,

But an expression of self, unique and deep.

I am not an object, a prize to be won,

But a person with dreams, desires, and fun,

So respect my boundaries, my autonomy,

And let me be who I want to be.

In the realm of fashion, I take my stand,

For a woman's choice should never demand,

That men behave as creeps, with prying eyes,

Instead, treat us with respect and wise.

For clothing is a form of self-expression,

Not an invitation for your indiscretion,

So let us dress, be fierce and free,

Without your judgment, let us be.