It’s taken me a while to process this. After a recent performance in which I was onstage for 90 minutes saying the healing words of Cheryl Strayed, in a critically acclaimed play which has sold out across the U.S. and been a salve for audiences for three years of performances... a man felt he had the right to tell me something. After his wife told me how much she liked the play, this man, a stranger, leaned in to me and whispered with stale breath as he pointed a finger admiringly up and down my body, that I was much slimmer than he expected from my movies. He then winked and sweatily declared I was, “lookin good.” For this man to assume that I wanted to be privy to the inner thoughts and misogyny of his male mind is presumptuous, asinine and typical. Sir, I am not onstage for you to decide whether or not you would have sex with me. That you now deem me as someone you would deign to have sex with is not a lifelong goal and accomplishment for me. I gave you my heart for 90 minutes onstage, acting in a play I also adapted. It is my artistic gift to you. My breasts, waist size and vagina are not being offered to you, Sir. When I met you, I did not decide whether or not I wanted to have sex with you, or your wife. I met you on a human level, shook your hand and conversed with you, as decent people do. Women do not exist for you to watch on a stage and decide that you deem us as sexual creatures or not. I hope the next generation feels they have the right to do what I wanted to do and that is that they can laugh in any man’s judging face who feels they have the right to slime us with their Male Gaze. Sir, I truly don’t care that you think I’m now hot enough to have sex with. Sir, I knew I was enough before I lost weight and I know I am enough now. My value does not rest on my form. Women are more than our bodies. So, Sir? If you’re reading this, this message is for you: Suck it.