I'm a girly girl. I'm 5-foot-5 with blonde hair, big hazel eyes, 34DDs, and toned calves. You can typically find me in heels and a dress or a skirt. You can also find me glaring at sleazy subway passengers and sidewalk catcallers who think it's going to benefit them to call me "babe" or that it's clever to say, "The things I would do to you, honey," at all hours of the day. Cut to me dumping the rest of a scalding hot espresso down my throat and putting on my biggest bitch face until I reach my destination.

We should get something straight here. I don't find my "attractiveness" so magnetic that it should cause men to stop what they are doing and be compelled to whistle, catcall, or tell their friends to turn and look at me. I am just a young woman trying to get where I need to be. I'm not bragging that people comment on my appearance; in fact, I despise that anyone thinks this type of behavior is acceptable.

Imagine how it feels to have heads turn and all eyes on you when you are simply trying to get to where you need to be. It doesn't make me feel beautiful or sexy. It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me. The scrutiny is never ending. The immediate thoughts of whether my skirt is too short or my shirt is too low cause me to doubt the professional outfit that I put on in the morning. I wonder if there's something stuck to my shoe, if I forgot to put on some item of clothing, anything that could be wrong with me that would cause people to stare. But it's typically just because I'm "pretty," and sometimes, it seems like that's all society will perceive me to be.

Coming to terms with being perceived as "beautiful" wasn't easy. It soon became how people knew me. People seemed to forget or simply ignore my accomplishments. They disregarded the fact that I'm an athlete, I'm intelligent, and I'm incredibly ambitious. Others did not bother to look past my appearance and actually get to know me, satisfied with the kind of person I looked like I could be.

As a teenager, I found this frustrating. I was still trying to figure out who I was for myself, while the rest of the world simply decided who I was based on my appearance. I went through different phases as I tried to find a way to draw attention to other aspects about me. I only wore sports jerseys and oversize T-shirts, I tried to brag and bring up my achievements during conversations so people would know that there was more to me than my looks, and when all else failed, I simply tried to blend in.

It was this that set me back while trying to find my true self and passions in life. I dulled myself down, personality- and appearance-wise, for years, trying to be appreciated for something other than my looks. It was not until leaving home and moving to New York City that I realized how amazing it is to be yourself in such a diverse place, and I never looked back. Sure, I still get catcalled just about every day. When there are no dirty words said, there are still looks, and whistles, and friends tapping friends to "look at that chick." I don't bother noticing anymore. As I have gotten older, this has expanded to looks and awkward situations from creepy professors, bosses, and coworkers. But again, it is not worth my time, and I ignore it.

I have come to realize that I hold the power in these situations. By not responding to this behavior, I'm discouraging these people from doing it again to someone else. With my lack of response comes a wave of rejection to the pursuer or the stranger on the street.

It also shows that I demand to be respected, both my body and my mind, because believe it or not, there's more to me than just my looks.

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Felicia Czochanski I’m a writer and blogger who is in love with NYC, ice cream and lipstick.

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