She posts photos of her body — so she must be a slut?

Women receive tons of messages from strangers every single day: “You’re sexy,” “You’re hot,” “Such a great ass.” Especially when you post photos in leggings, during workouts, in swimsuits, or in lingerie. I personally get plenty of these messages — simply because I post pictures of my body. Oh no😏

Now let’s get factual. I have eyes. I train regularly, eat well, and take care of myself — so I already know that my body is healthy and looks good. The fact that someone decided to point that out isn’t new information to me. I often reply to strangers exactly like this: “Yes, I know.” Some get offended: apparently you’re supposed to be grateful for compliments. No.

First of all, I owe thanks only to myself — for the work, discipline, and investment I put into my own body. You, sir, have nothing to do with it. Second, if someone voices a fact voluntarily, that does not create any obligation on my side. I didn’t ask for your “service,” and I don’t owe you anything in return. A compliment is not the purchase of access to me.

And honestly — what is your goal? When I give a compliment, I don’t expect anything back. I do it because I genuinely find something beautiful and want to express it. Whether someone thanks me or not is irrelevant — I didn’t do it for myself.

You might think I dislike compliments or that I’m aggressive and ungrateful. Not at all. I adore compliments from people close to me — those who have seen me in real life, who know me as a person, and who appreciate more than just a surface image. What I don’t like is when unfamiliar men start a conversation with sexualized remarks. You’ve never even seen me in real life. What you like are my photos — not me. Also remember: social media is not reality. Photoshop, retouching, flattering angles — I use all of it because I want beautiful pictures. So don’t believe me, and don’t believe the internet.

Beyond hinting at sex right away with a stranger, you also distort the meaning of the human body itself. From a neurobiological perspective, sex is not “just sex,” no matter what you tell yourself. It is one of the most intimate forms of interaction because it triggers a cascade of reactions in the brain that affect emotions, bonding, partner perception, and even self-esteem. It’s a hormonal bond: oxytocin (attachment), dopamine (behavior reinforcement), endorphins, and serotonin (emotional comfort). The brain literally registers the other person as “significant,” and this process is not consciously chosen — it’s biology. This effect is especially strong in women, whose nervous systems tend to be more sensitive to oxytocin.

What’s most troubling isn’t even the sexual undertone itself, but the fact that people genuinely don’t understand the consequences of such interactions — for their own bodies and for someone else’s. When people aren’t familiar with each other, when there’s no trust or emotional safety, the nervous system perceives sexual contact as stress: cortisol rises, the sense of control drops, and defense mechanisms may activate. That’s why sex with a stranger is not always “easy and simple” for the body, as some like to imagine. For the brain — especially a woman’s brain — it’s a risk: both biological and emotional.

So when a stranger immediately proposes sex, they don’t realize that this is an invasion into a private space that inherently requires trust, safety, and respect. So — who exactly are you to me? A friend? A partner? A lover? You want “just sex”? But this isn’t “just sex.” Let me walk into your life uninvited and start digging into your wallet — the feeling would be roughly the same. Actually, no. My body, hormonal balance, and health matter to me more than your money ever could.

But the real point here is our attitude toward the body. We are long past the cave-dwelling stage of humanity. We have the option to think critically rather than live under patriarchal-religious stereotypes. A body is just a body. A tool. A shell. Stop turning it into a cult. Stop assigning sacred meaning to it — especially through lenses of sin, filth, or denial. A body is simply what nature gave us. It doesn’t need to be hidden. It doesn’t need to be shamed. It doesn’t need to be exploited. It only needs to be accepted, cared for, and loved.

Do I like a healthy, attractive body? Of course. But what conclusions can I draw about a person who has one? Only that they possess the discipline to train and eat well. That’s it. No intelligence, no values, no personality traits, and no level of development can be deduced from someone’s body alone. You can post nude photos and still be a serious, thoughtful person. You can dress modestly and live a chaotic sexual life — and even then, it’s not our place to judge, because we don’t bear that responsibility anyway. A body is just a body. Everything else is projection.

Some people tell me: “You get messages from those men because you show your ass.” And it’s after comments like that that I feel like taking it even further — posting, say, a photo of my vagina:) Why? Because it’s the perfect filter for shallow, unintelligent people. A smart person will still see the body — and then go on to get to know the individual behind it. An uneducated one will see only “meat” and conclude that you’re easy prey for free and irresponsible sex. A perfect filter.

My goal is to normalize the human body — to help people stop feeling ashamed of themselves and stop using bodies as tools for manipulation, control, or judgment. No outside opinion can make me distance myself from who I am. A crowd might call me a “slut” to provoke guilt or change my behavior — I don’t care. I’m stronger than that, and I have every objective reason to believe that my position is both correct and socially beneficial.