Many conservative religions define certain dress codes to uphold a certain level of modesty for its members, which is just another defense against immodest thought and behavior. As a member of a religion that more or less instills a dress code, I have been righteously covering my body ever since I was a teenager—until now.

This past summer I’ve been baring my shoulders. The hemlines are still long, the girls are still (very well) covered, but the sleeves…well…the sleeves have come off.

Many of you may think I’m on a slippery slope, and soon the hemlines WILL come up and my necklines WILL go down. I beg to differ. I’m a firm believer in classy, modest clothing, but how the shoulder is considered an immodest body part I don’t know. Does its roundness resemble that of a person’s bottom…or a breast…or…? Do the shoulders draw the eye to the clavicle, which slight V-shape points the eye further down to the peaks of peccadillo? Are those extra inches of flesh the final barrier that prevents the mind from crossing over from the moral to the immoral?

I can’t imagine deltoids having that much power. And if they did, well, it might even do me some good. When a sweet spirit and smart personality gets you nowhere, women should be allowed to bear their shoulders. It’s not an invitation for fornication, but a PG-rated sneak preview to get a guy’s attention.

Conservative religious institutions that put so much emphasis on getting married should relax dress codes for its members that can’t get out of the rut of Singledom. The new rule: The older you get, the more skin you can show.

I won’t be writing a letter to the president of the church anytime soon with my ideas. But in the meantime, I am going to release my shoulders. They are strong, sculpted and raise my arm up when I contract them. They don’t convey sexuality; they exude strength. Like curvy hips that scream “I can bear children,”, my strong shoulders scream “I can carry them!”

So I’m pulling out the tank tops and sleeveless shirts (and staying away from the tube tops and visible bra straps. Remember, I said classy.) and stocking up on razors and clear deodorant. And even before the farmer tan fades, a guy will call and say, “Hey Jenny, I think you’d make a great tennis partner. Can you play next Friday?”

I’m off to do some lateral arm raises…