2013-05-20T08:56:05-04:00 Kinnie Starr http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=kinnie-starr Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Kinnie Starr Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2963511 2013-03-27T11:35:07-04:00 2013-05-15T21:23:26-04:00

Kinnie Starr http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kinnie-starr/
My co-producer, appointed by the label to finish my still-shelved album, "Mending", suggested I start wearing clothing that flattered, or at least fit. In retrospect, he was right; I was dumpster diving for clothes for most of what I wore. I almost exclusively wore baggies. I was uncomfortable in my skin at that time, and hated being looked at, so I generally chose clothing that was loose and unflattering.

Grunge was still cool, so I got away with my slouch. But I was merging into a career on stage after doing nothing but street art and some prep cooking, where I was happily invisible. I knew I needed at least a few things that fit or flattered if I was going to be on stage as a job.

I have been pretty close to the same size since I was about 18, give or take 15 pounds. My shape has not changed very much either, both to my chagrin and joy, depending on the day. The Philadelphia Reporter once wrote my figure up as "petite but gutsy", and this is accurate.

I am lanky but have shape. My weight moves in a radius up and down, throughout the year, and it always has. That's why I never understand why people cringe at gaining 15 pounds, or cringe at differently sized clothing tags. It seems natural to gain and/or lose weight as the seasons change. To me, bodies look and feel the same give or take 15 to 20 pounds, even 30 on a taller person.

In fact, I favour the look of more weight and tend to believe it is better for our bones and sinewy connective tissues to have extra body fat. I know I am in the minority in this thinking, based on what I see in most media. Still I maintain my stance: most adults look best a bit heavier! But when was the last time a magazine headline advised women to "put on that extra 15 pounds just in time for bikini season!!"?

NEVER. In my opinion, this is unfortunate. People look beautiful in their healthy states -- and if that is heavier, they look best heavier. No? If we are active and eating well, with a little extra fat, and happy, it shows. Underweight and crash dieting, that shows too, and not for the better.

So back to vanity sizing...

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Growing up from a lanky teenager in Calgary, I had always been a size 6/8 for dress fit, and in general favoured loose androgynous clothing, wearing a size up for comfort. I didn't and still don't see the point in displaying my figure in tight clothes day in and day out. For working on stage and in the media though, I realized at the start of my career that I may need to own some complimentary outfits. So that year back in around 1997, I entrusted my then co-producer to lead the way.

We were working down in LA at that time, and he decided to take me into some stores. We started with The Gap. I don't remember why. The girl asked me what size I wanted in the skirt I liked, a long flowing yellow starched cotton skirt. Yes, I WISH I had bought it. I still remember that pretty skirt. Sigh. Anyway, when I answered, "....size 6 please, or an 8...", her eyes glazed.

"Um. I don't think you are a 6... I'll get you a 2."

This was the first time I had ever even seen those numbers. That day in LA, my co-producer and I went into The Gap and a number of other stores. Many of them had converted to the new size codes as well. Boutiques and chains alike. Instead of being my usual 6/8, I had somehow become a 2/4, numbers which I had never seen before on clothing tags.

In some stores I was still a size small or small/medium, but in many stores I had miraculously become an extra small. WTF? I know my body is not an extra small, I am 5"8! I weigh between 120 and 135 pounds at any given moment. I have an ample heart-shaped bottom, a 34C/32D chest. So WHY was I being told by designers that I had become an extra small?

What was it that prompted designers to change their sizing codes in North America? Was it an effort to convince western women worried about our weight that we had, as the magazines continually badgered us into wishing we could, "dropped two dress sizes"? Was it the merging of youth and grown up fashions as the big chains like The Gap grew into one-stop shopping for mommy and pre-teen daughter?

Personally, I feel like there is a whole machine in place telling perfectly healthy and beautiful women to "lose weight" and seek a teenaged body when we don't need to. Magazine after magazine tells us 'how to lose that last 15 pounds" and seek the six pack abs of a kid, or someone who does nothing but exercise.

I know far too many kick ass women who are healthy and gorgeous, intelligent and funny, loving and beautiful people, and CONSTANTLY dieting/fasting/cleansing in a yo-yo cycle of self-doubt one month, and then on top of the world in the next month after they shed that 10 or 20 or just five pounds. WHY?

The numbers are random in the weight loss these women seek, but they are numbers nonetheless, encouraging women to measure and compare, compete with the scale or the size on the tag, and fight with our own bodies. These numbers are deeply infused into female thinking, and they deflate or boost up self esteem. Why does a number on a tag tell us how to feel about ourselves? Why does the scale tell us we are ok or not ok?

I don't know if I am the only one who feels like we have been duped into thinking we are only beautiful if we are "smaller" but I doubt it. I see a relationship between the rise of intrusive, unhealthy media via constant access to the internet, the rise of consumer culture, populations booming in cities as we spend, spend spend, and the rise of vanity sizing.

It seems like all these forces combine to convince women to expend well-earned capital on dieting tricks and fads in combination with the push to become smaller for a minute according to a tag on a garment. Look this trend up if you don't believe me. Where it seems vanity sizing becomes a consumer trap is by feeding a "rated" reward system through numbered self-evaluation. As the number on the tag gets smaller, the doorway to "treating oneself" for getting "smaller" is opened, and our dollars fly out the window.

As a caveat, I understand that I am referencing a specific demographic here of women who have the extra income (or credit cards that trick us into thinking we have the extra income) to spend on shopping. I am a part of this culture. I am a consumer. I am well aware that many women A) don't care about shopping and are not consumers B) don't care about dieting or vanity sizing C) have their heads and hearts way above this type of conversation.

I know I'm kind of vain to even have noticed the vanity sizing shift. If I was a stronger woman I wouldn't care. I would never shop, never use eyeliner or a hairbrush, never look at media, never look into the mirror to see if I look presentable. But I'm not that strong. I am affected by media culture even though I try to steer clear of unhealthy messaging.

I work in pop culture, both to my merit and detriment. And a big part of me feels that the shift in sizing codes, along with the rise of celebrity culture via the internet, and the internet itself, has put even more pressure on women to think of ourselves as compartmentalized and evaluated, inadequate unless we have shrunken frames and perfect clothes and well done hair and celebrity imitated styling. It has infected my mind, and I don't like it.

I am told sometimes that I am too inquisitive and feminist-minded, that I should just "lighten up" and embrace the world we live in. Sex it up more than the occasional photo shoot. Get with the times. But I was raised by a criminal defence lawyer and an educator, and they taught me it's ok to question everything. So I'll just be me here, and take whatever flack comes my way when I state implicitly that I don't like the fact that so many women I know who are running businesses or raising children, often both, and generally just working their butts off, are OBSESSED with wanting to fit into such and such a size jean or lose X number of pounds.

Thin or heavy, it's round and round these gorgeous women go, feeling defeated when they gain weight, then starving themselves to lose pounds again til they feel "smaller". Once they have lost weight, they become ecstatic at the numbers on the scale. They begin relaxing and eating more balanced meals again, only to hit the same weight gain in a few months and begin to feel awful again.

At this point, the cycle to stave off body fat resumes once more. Fasts/cleanses/diets resume. Food becomes a fixation until some weight is lost. Once successful according to the numbers on the scale, the ecstasy of having shrunken a bit (again) is followed by the need to shop -- preferably at the stores that use the new millennium's vanity sizing numbers.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2581418 2013-01-30T12:53:31-05:00 2013-04-01T05:12:01-04:00

Kinnie Starr http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kinnie-starr/
Regular TV watching sort of "sanctions" the worst in people. I realize, of course, that there are great shows out there too, with excellent content. And I know tonnes of people who enjoy watching TV, so I continually try and get into it, just to feel connected to the masses and understand popular thinking.

My favourite time to watch TV is with family, because it's vaguely social. I like watching what they like watching, because TV shows make them happy. That, in turn, makes ME happy. I like to see what my family and friends are interested in, because most of my hours are spent alone, doing what professional artists do; working.

Being an artist is a full time job, unlike a 9-5 job where the hours are more structured. Observing, practicing, writing, refining and managing ideas, synthesizing what we see, and attempting to create products that reflects a distinct world view in a manner which hopefully brings clarity or joy to those who come in contact with the work, these tasks are an all-day process. They do not stop when you leave the office, because life and living is the office.

In addition to the reflective side of being an artist and interpreting/synthesizing information, artists also have the same day-to-day stuff of running our businesses like any other business owner; administration, money management, keeping track of our staff, making sure product moves forward on time, endless digital file management, communicating and building meaningful relationships with agents, labels, engineers, mixers, mastering studios, press, other artists, sponsors, managers. And then of course there are the responsibilities of tending to our families -- and by families, I do not simply reference biological offspring, but more on that in another blog...

Anyway I keep hearing about the show The X Factor, so recently while hanging with family, I suggested we watch the program. I thought it would be interesting to see that big showy side of the music world. But what I witnessed made me uncomfortable. TV programs like The X Factor offer zero insight into the real work ethic behind being a professional artist, all the while encouraging people to think of music as some vain pursuit of splashy fame, setting potentially talented kids and adults up for a permanent sense of dissatisfaction in the arts "unless they become famous."

As a caveat, I acknowledge that there ARE people who want fame for fame's sake. I've met them. They drive the music business forward economically by continuing to make choices that promote the hell out of their songs. These fame driven artists are an important component of the music industry, but they are not 100 per cent of it.

Back to The X Factor...

So we sat down as a family one night to watch this show that millions of people apparently LOVE, and a very sweet 13-year-old girl belts her heart out under televised blinged-out pressure. Immediately, I felt really, really sad for her. What is she learning while being primped and posed, positioned in the spotlight of a TV show aimed at fleeting, exaggerated record deals?

We can see over and over by now that except for a select few of these fame factory winners (such as Carrie Underwood, who maintains a solid career and is by the way, a Native American woman, but more on that in another blog), the so-called "opportunities" offered through being on TV do not guarantee the winners anything but passing fame.

Where will this young 13-year-old go from here? Will she always associate singing with "I almost made the finals on a TV show"? What will happen to her love of singing? Will she associate it with failure if she doesn't win? Here is a kid who is holding herself like an adult, belting out her soul with the conviction of an adult, clothed and made up to look like an adult. My heart bloody ACHED for this child.

I know I know I know that everyone is supposed to want fame, and that she is clearly being parented by those who want fame for her, but I have to say that fame is not the best side of music-making. MUSIC is the best side. Joy is the reward. Hard work ethic and a sense of completion is the reward. Knowing you created something out of nothing is the reward. Making your own path is the reward.

My concern is that encouraging people to want fame, rather than to want the process of developing divergent skills, a self motivated work ethic, and an entrepreneurial vision, is to miss out on the creative joys of being an artist. Like I say, I realize I am not in the majority here, but I think we have gone a bit far with the promotion of fame just for fame's sake, and I think TV shows like The X Factor are making a whole generation of egotists who have no idea what it takes to actually BE an artist, and are focused instead on "getting famous" -- whether through YouTube hits, or TV, or getting "discovered." What about wanting to make music and art because it heals the body and soul and makes others happy when they are exposed to it? What about wanting to be an artist because it makes you strong by virtue of creating your own path?

If I were that 13 year old's parents, I would keep her far, far away from those TV shows that pit people meaninglessly against others. I would encourage her to work hard on her gifts rather than putting her in grown up shows under grown up pressures. For every kid who wants to sing and be the prettiest and most famous, there is another kid who also sings and is pretty too, with wealthier parents, more money, more access to press, and better connections to the music industry. Look at Lana Del Rey if you question the way the music industry works. She wanted fame bad enough that her billionaire daddy bought her a new face and the best producers money could buy -- and now she is a household name.

Most artists do not have parents or investors that can pay for facelifts and million dollar videos or studios, expensive marketing campaigns and tour support. And aside from the fame that might one day come, in North America, being an artist is an entrepreneurial venture in which full time work loads will forever be mocked by folks who only view "real jobs" as jobs that they can understand in a conventional manner; like a doctor, or a teacher, or a lawyer, etc.

Being an artist, even if you are successful, does not necessarily mean you will have splashy fame, or gain the respect of your family or friends. It means that no matter how hard you work, most folks will assume you sleep late, float around with no responsibility, and have no goals.

These prejudices are firmly in place, therefore the very act of being an artist is fortifying by resisting convention. You can escape condescending remarks about your job while working overseas, but in North America, it's pretty certain that only your hard work will provide you with a sense of self-worth. Maybe when you are in the paper or on TV people will give you fleeting respect, but it will be fleeting, as people follow media to determine their beliefs, and media itself is fickle.

Because making music requires massive amounts of time alone, people will assume you "do nothing." And because there is no office, no steady paycheck, and no set category for what you produce, you, and you alone manifest long and short-term plans that require immense creativity, clarity, adaptability and VISION.

And even though you are making the music that will keep people happy in traffic jams, make them feel good while they cook dinners and dance with their kids, you will still be treated poorly, have terrible health coverage, and be looked down upon and belittled by relatives and friends. But they don't show this side of music making on The X Factor. I guess hard work ethic does not make for good TV?

Imagine a different world -- one where gifted kids and adults had no X Factor shows encouraging them to seek fame as the ultimate measure of success, and instead theses people were encouraged to create work that lasts, rather than sells, and were given the respect that conventional jobs are given, including paid days off and proper health insurance, maternal and paternal leave, etc.

Away from the lure of internet celebrity and the TV fame game, imagine if that 13-year-old girl was encouraged to become innovative and confident, skilled and resilient as the artist she might become, creating work that has no measure aside from the compass inside the body that says, "you worked hard today. Well done."

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2298241 2012-12-14T17:05:59-05:00 2013-02-13T05:12:01-05:00

Kinnie Starr http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kinnie-starr/ indiegogo crowdfunding campaign for the release of my upcoming album, "Kiss It." The day the campaign launched, I was struck by the familiar sense of fear I associate with being visible, or being on camera. I love my work but it is hard on the nervous system -- being on stage is literally being watched -- not always an easy thing, despite that reality TV tells us.

Putting out this new record, and launching a crowdfunding campaign to get it to people, is unnerving but interesting. My ego is on the line, as well as my product, and because the record was made for my nieces, I'm heavily invested.

The new album talks about female sexuality (among other things), and writing an album or blogging about this topic is as complex as the very subject itself; female sexuality is diverse, ever-changing and full of contradictions. What is cool for one women is appalling to another. The topic infuriates, engages and perplexes most people, including myself.

There are so many different ways of being sexy, and as Jenna Marbles says, "women are majestic creatures." So why are we so critical of each other in the ways we express our sexual self-confidence? The truth is our truth changes daily, or it should, if we are sentient and curious. I don't know about you, but for me, one minute I think I understand something, and the next day or year I realize I am clueless. I'm a writer and performer, so I am on display as I figure these things out and hopefully become a better human. I write about what I care about. But that doesn't mean I understand it or have answers.

As a caveat I would like to say that I am fully aware of the half dozen or so moments in which I have flaunted my sex appeal in my career of 15 years. I too am on a journey of self-discovery, and the way I feel about revealing my body is a question, not an answer for me.

I am aware that I live with contradiction, and am clear that I am flawed as a human being. I am also aware that these pinpointed "sexy Kinnie Starr" moments caught in the digital web are the moments that folks use as proof of my hypocrisy. Guilty as charged.

Before I became a musician, and before I worked on stage, I was pretty serious about NEVER wearing flattering clothing. I wore strictly ill-fit baggies, layers upon layers, clothing found in dumpsters, and all outfits to conceal my frame. I thought I was too awkward to mean anything to anyone.

When people stared, which they always have, I assumed it was because I was ugly, or unkempt. I fondly recall those years, however insecure I was, because I was a nudist and had no problem with it because I could not possibly imagine that my naked body would be considered attractive. I was, and am, quite thin and long and kind of sinewy, and it did not, and often does not, feel beautiful.

To this day I vary in my confidence around showing off my figure, and it's always been a big question to me where my comfort lies in the area of revealing my body. Am I am doing the world any good when I show off my frame? Am I building self confidence or feeding the machine that tells us women should be seen, not heard. And better yet, women should be nearly naked, and perpetually on display in 2012.

My close friends want me reveal my femininity, my frame, my skin and my physical poise, because they know my story intimately, and they know my journey through shame. But to people who do not know me, and only know me as a public figure, they see a music video where I look my best, or photos where I look "pretty", and write me off as a thinker. Why? Why can't we be many things at once?

Because of the internet, a handful of sexy moments over my 15-year career are burned in peoples' minds, digitally present with greater longevity than my other choices. Having hot photos in my Kinnie Starr brand discredits my efforts to deconstruct the broader conversation around sexuality, and that dichotomy is the core of this conversation. It is where the question begins, not ends. Can a woman only be one thing, or can she be many?

Like any human, I want to be me, all sides of me, because when we show all sides, we allow others to be all sides as well. I want to love my body so I can be good to others, unashamed and generous, and know my frame is part of my spirit; just like my kindness or humour. I want to be beautiful, but I don't want to be looked at for consumption strictly on my form, or feel unsafe under the gaze of strangers.

I want to be on stage and express the voice that comes from my ancestors, but I wish it could happen in the dark where only sound guides the moment, rather than image. I want to feel free and unencumbered like I used to before the internet, before cameras and YouTube and popularity hits on websites were a part of everyday life, and I was a nudist, a graffiti artist, an introvert. Invisible.

I know that each time I take a step towards self-love and reveal my body, I become a "bad feminist" in some people's eyes, or a hypocrite. I'll take bullets for this conversation, because I think we are all equally confused as to how to be a great woman in a time where everything goes. I don't have any of this figured out, and I am just like you -- I like to look my best some days, I want things to be good for us all, and I am seeking comfort in my own skin, in this world, as a sexual, intelligent, curious human.

The only difference between you and me is I'm on stage as I figure it all out. And I guess I can safely say I am strong enough to be in the line of fire.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2164803 2012-11-21T09:48:14-05:00 2013-01-21T05:12:01-05:00

Kinnie Starr http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kinnie-starr/
The first Rainbow Gathering I went to was in Vermont. Reputed to be a strong counter culture gathering where no money was allowed, I hiked two full days up, up, up into the hills to find thousands of people gathered in the wilderness. Water was being tapped from the streams, and Hare Krishna's were offering the best meals I could have imagined.

There were full day drum circles, no electricity, and elderly fair skinned women bravely boasting beards. You could go to "pancake kitchen" at almost any given hour, and eat decadently. One of the days I was there, I went to the main trading centre. People had their wares set up on blankets for barter only -- batteries, toothbrushes, handmade jewellery, animal pelts, root vegetables, clothing, tampons, Advil. Anything you needed was there. Cash-free economy. Right on.

"Welcome home" was the rainbow greeting heard everywhere. The concept of finding home among strangers where nudity was allowed, food was free and the land was to be left untouched (and re-seeded) made me feel hopeful. I was younger then, and a less experienced woman, but already held distrust for commodified culture and urban ideologies. The rainbow community concept gave me pause -- maybe we could make a better world than cities indicated?

I realized quickly, though, that urban mentalities like sexism also permeate counter-culture. The young women at the Rainbow Gatherings danced topless around the drum jams while the men drummed and ogled them. The encouragement to "just be free and let go" was mainly aimed at women as a way to get our tops off. "Welcome home my beautiful rainbow sister," men would say to me throughout my day. They would embrace me, and the embrace would sometimes last long enough to become a grope. Agile fingers would start to unbutton my dress, with a warm gaze and hushed words against my neck, "Just let it go, sister. Be your beautiful self. Shed the trappings of babylon and your city clothes." Ew.

Blog continues below slideshow...



It seems like Burning Man holds the status of a heavier, more muscular cousin to the hippied out Rainbow Gatherings I went to 20 years ago. I want to check Burning Man out, but the online images look so much like a modern Rainbow Gathering. The whole tits and ass on display thing seems so alive and well, and it's not exactly exciting to imagine being stuck in an atmosphere where that's the norm. I already deal with that all day every day in mainstream and urban culture. The idea of escaping into a more pronounced culture of exhibitionism is daunting. Online searches show a solid glossary of nearly naked babes; 80 per cent female, of course.

But I also see MASSIVE installation sculptures online at BM -- some are, of course, naked female bodies, but some look like cool tucked away video sculptures and mini cities. Big summer skies, cool modified vehicles and bikes, mud parties, and sound stages. It looks like the hugest party ever, and a place where someone who loves art and human celebration can see blocks wide installation pieces, and costumes that inspire!

Unfortunately, it also looks like the party party party never stops, nor do the crowds or sound crews, nor does the extroversion and look-at-my-ass boudoir wear. Stuck in the desert with 50,000 people blowing off a years worth of frustration from their 9 to 5 realities, all wearing the oh-so-current steam punk chic? This sounds like a potentially beautiful, but likely exhausting, experience.

Who is taking care of each other at these massive BM party party parties? In an era where every where I turn, in every city I work in, there is another advertisement for another burlesque event, and another picture of another nearly naked chick marketing another event, where do these attitudes that women are entertainment go once the masses congregate for something as "free" as BM?

Is the widely-held philosophy that our asses are on display quelled once people gather to party in the desert? I sure would like that. To be free from that construct for a week or so would be liberating. And yes, I know some women like being on display. I know many women who crave being looked at as confirmation that they are "hot."

As a matter of fact, they desperately need that confirmation, and will do anything to get it. And that constant struggle to be prettier, more gazed upon, isn't that making us sick? Many of us are actually putting our health at risk to "get more hot" on a daily basis, all over the world. Even wearing high heels daily endangers our spines and feet, but we still wear them. Cuz it's "hawt"?

And inside a counter-culture gathering like BM, it looks kinda similar to mainstream culture. Maybe more dusty, but still a contest to see who can be the most "hawt," the most "free," the most "expressive" -- and so much of the expression looks like the stamp of "look at my ass," pornified MTV culture.

I know, I know. I sound like a scrrrrdy cat. Too modest? Not adventurous? Just be free? Let it go, sister? But as I write this blog, I realize my solitary nature outweighs my need to see those big beautiful art pieces under the Burning Man sky.

I think I'll just google those sculptures and let the extroverts party in their lingerie and tutus while I sit somewhere quiet, swim nude in lakes, saving my look-at-me gusto for the next time I perform on stage.

That's when I'll be extroverted; for my audience, because it's my J.O.B.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2101163 2012-11-09T10:53:35-05:00 2013-01-09T05:12:01-05:00

Kinnie Starr http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kinnie-starr/
I don't love the look of leggings, because I'm not sold on women baring our asses for the viewing pleasure of strangers. To me, leggings make a woman look like she is in the privacy of her own home. I don't particularly like people dressed in underwear as they head to work, either. And that's what leggings look like to me.

I guess the feel of being cozy and at home is why women love them -- "they're so comfy" -- and also why men love them -- "You can totally see that chick's ass ... awesome." And, oh yeah... you can see her labia, too. Awesome?

See, that's the thing with this hyper-sexualized era we live in. Somehow it's become completely normal to dress in what 15 years ago would have been considered the outfit of a street worker. No disrespect to women working the sex trade, but I don't know if we all need to show it all, all the time.

The rise of pop yoga culture and yoga gear as streetwear has certainly contributed to the thinking that skintight everything is the way to go. I don't buy it, but I'm stuck in this era and need to adapt.

I have been told countless times that I should "show it off" more, and that I am "hiding" my body because I favour loose clothing that doesn't showcase every nuance of my figure. But I like the freedom of knowing my figure is not on display.

I like the sense of secrecy I carry around knowing my body has magical curves that are only mine to witness. I feel beautiful knowing my body is my own, and not some stranger's entertainment. I don't like being hit on, although I am told I am supposed to thrive from some stranger's gaze as an indication of how "hawt" I am.

The pressure to flaunt my figure as a rapper and performer and modern woman is HUGE.
So I am trying, not very gracefully, to wear leggings, and enjoy them. My lanky frame looks silly, if you ask me, but I'm trying to embrace the trend.

I'm trying to feel what other women are feeling, and be a part of something current rather than stuck in my love of all things loose and rugged, functional and raw. Linens and wools, denims and silks; these are my dream fabrics and do not a legging make.

But right now, this week, I am gonna rock a super synthetic, ultra stretchy pair of leggings. I'll give it a try. But not without wearing something long enough overtop that my ass -- and labia -- are not some stranger's entertainment.

See more celebs who've tried the pantsless look:
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