What if I don't want to reclaim my sluthood?

I've more than thirty years old, and I still don't know what that really means.

A few months back, someone left a message on my Tumblr dash that read, "Every women should own 'slut clothes' and wear them once and a while."

I thought long and hard about what that meant. The hyper-sexual, hyper-feminized image of a 'slut attire' -- short skirt, heels, lots of make-up -- I'm assuming this is what she meant, and I certainly don't own anything resembling slut clothes. I've already written once about my reluctance to embrace the whole "reclaiming slut" meme, but it goes a little deeper than that.  I never thought of myself as that "sexy" girl, even when I was young. I was too busy being "cool," which presents its own set of problems, but slut is too loaded a word for some women, and just not an option for others. (Unless you plan on expanding the definition of slut to include women who don't express themselves in stereotypically feminine ways -- and frankly, I don't see anyone doing that.)

I know at the core the whole idea of slutwalks is that women shouldn't be shamed, blamed, or victimized for their sexuality, but it seems to only extend to a very cis, hetero, and mostly middle-class demographic who can largely choose to identify in ways other than their sexuality, or in addition to their sexuality. In my world, slut is synonymous with uneducated and lazy -- not smart enough to "better her situation." Believe me, it's easier to call yourself a "slut" when you also have an MBA.

Going back to the slut clothes comment, I tried to come up with my own definition of that, and I couldn't. Maybe my own prejudice is getting in my way, but I don't see many "alternative sluts" or "slut alternatives: when I was young I fashioned myself as some sort of amalgam of Barry from High Fidelity and Janeane Garofalo's character in Reality Bites -- with maybe a soupcon of Dieter from "Sprockets" (really -- in the 90s, I owned more black turtlenecks than Andy Warhol and Steve Jobs combined). Not all that sexy. But that wasn't the point. And to a large extent, being the weirdo saved me, taking me out of the environment where I had to choose between being a good girl and being a slut. I may have lost a few things forging my identity, but it kind of stuck -- and like a warm, snuggley security blanket, I don't want to give it up.

So while I support my slut sisters, I'll be waving from the sidelines -- in nerd glasses and a mockneck.