Cycle chic, or not
Maybe I'm tired of being told I need to look pretty.
Maybe I'm tired of being told I need to ditch the sporty accessories, dress up in a skirt and heels, break the bank on an enormous Dutch bike, ride really slow, and smile and say hello to absolutely everyone.
Maybe I'm tired of the implicit accusation, in these laments on the dearth of women on bikes, that I'm the wrong kind of woman to be seen riding a bike everywhere, given that I ride in motor traffic with the big boys and generally don't give a tweet about what I'm wearing or how sweaty I get.
(Maybe I left my boyfriend in the dust last weekend, but I'd probably get a finger-wagging for that, too.)