LST Zine 1 | Page 12

It’s that simple. The time between “uhhhh why is there hair here?” and “why does my back hurt, I’ve literally done nothing all day?” should be an era of exploration and pettiness. I personally disagree with the notion that the ideal time to settle down and “prepare for the rest of adult life” should begin mere years from the genesis of said life. I’m telling you from experience, it’s a dirty trick to fall for.

The word slut always seems to throw people into a tissy, and maybe rightfully so, but in this context, my emphasis is on the carefree aspect of sluttiness. Sluts do not commit themselves to every person showing the slightest bit of attention towards them. A slut is not seeking to permanently merge themselves with a partner in hopes of molding them into someone they can keep. Sluts have sex. Sluts have sex, and they move on. The differentiation between a slut and a hoe, I feel, is that hoes have sex for material goods; sluts have sex because they want to. A slut will invite you over, kick you out, and move on. They do not have to shift their life to accommodate anyone but themselves. Of course I am not advocating having careless, unsafe sex, and I certainly don’t want to seem like I am advising to prioritise sex over love. However, perhaps the purpose should be enjoying the people who come into our lives, and if we happen to stumble upon “the one”, so be it.

I am, what some would call, a hot pants, by nature. I never went through a “boys are gross” phase, and, quite frankly, realized that girls are pretty not gross as well at a pretty young age. That being said, I was raised in a fairly strict Presbyterian home, and the sheer mention of sex at my house freaked everyone out completely.

In stark contrast, I was always very curious about sexuality, and very open to listening and sharing with anyone who wanted to talk about it. I had my first real sexual experience at 16 and, like most mothers, mine seemed to be able to sense the change in me and, like a great deal of mothers, she openly resented me for it. I was the kind of young lady that would steal away with her boyfriend during school hours, to make out, beneath a 15 foot crucifix the school kept hanging behind heavy burgundy stage curtains in the auditorium. My mother married her first love at the age of 18. My romantic life terrified her.

By Deborah Alice

Why Every Woman is Entitled to a "Slut Phase"

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