e day at the city college library I saw a student I liked. We had often passed each other on campus, and said, “Hi.” On that rainy day, I walked over to him in the library and asked him if he It may not be politically correct to tell you that a woman should make herself beautiful, sexy, and feminine. However, if you don’t, then that nice, sweet, but unbeautiful, un-sexy, and unfeminine woman may spend many lonely, unhappy years being politically correct and unnoticed by most men.

I was terrible at finding a man who was good for me. Again and again I would chase after men. From the age of 20 until in hit 35, I had a bit of a feminist attitude. I was not shy and quiet. I approached men, initiated contact, and pursued them. But twenty of them-every one--- ran from me, avoided me, showed no interest in me.

It was 1986. I carried too many extra pounds on my 4-foot-9-inch frame. I paid little attention to my make-up, my hair or my clothes. One day at the city college library I saw a student I liked. We had often passed each other on campus, and said, “Hi.” On that rainy day, I walked over to him in the library and asked him if he c

nine woman may spend many lonely, unhappy years being politically correct and unnoticed by most men.

I was terrible at finding a man who was good for me. Again and again I would chase after men. From the age of 20 until in hit 35, I had a bit of a feminist attitude. I was not shy and quiet. I approached men, initiated contact, and pursued them. But twenty of them-every one--- ran from me, avoided me, showed no interest in me.

It was 1986. I carried too many extra pounds on my 4-foot-9-inch frame. I paid little attention to my make-up, my hair or my clothes. One day at the city college library I saw a student I liked. We had often passed each other on campus, and said, “Hi.” On that rainy day, I walked over to him in the library and asked him if he

er men. From the age of 20 until in hit 35, I had a bit of a feminist attitude. I was not shy and quiet. I approached men, initiated contact, and pursued them. But twenty of them-every one--- ran from me, avoided me, showed no interest in me.

It was 1986. I carried too many extra pounds on my 4-foot-9-inch frame. I paid little attention to my make-up, my hair or my clothes. One day at the city college library I saw a student I liked. We had often passed each other on campus, and said, “Hi.” On that rainy day, I walked over to him in the library and asked him if he

ran from me, avoided me, showed no interest in me.

It was 1986. I carried too many extra pounds on my 4-foot-9-inch frame. I paid little attention to my make-up, my hair or my clothes. One day at the city college library I saw a student I liked. We had often passed each other on campus, and said, “Hi.” On that rainy day, I walked over to him in the library and asked him if he

e day at the city college library I saw a student I liked. We had often passed each other on campus, and said, “Hi.” On that rainy day, I walked over to him in the library and asked him if he could give me a ride home. He said to me, almost angrily, “Are you insane? Why do you think that I am interested in you? You don’t act like a woman. Why would I care to talk to you?” I was shocked. In that moment I was a total loser. I was insulted and hurt. What else could be a worse way to hurt a woman than to say, essentially, “You are not a woman”? But that was the truth in men’s eyes: I was not seen a woman, not noticed as a woman. My niceness didn’t impress the men. Inside, I knew I was a nice woman, but my outside appearance made men not even think of me as a woman. I was not a woman to men because I wasn’t dressing and acting like a woman and I was heavy and unattractive, not pretty, not sexy, and not feminine.