I used the above feature image for a reason. Pam Grier, now 65, was a regular visitor (and I dare say near permanent resident) of my teenage masturbatory fantasies. Or, as I just informed a couple of fellow MHRAs in one of our Skype sessions, I did not see her movies as “blaxploitation” films. They were just two hours out of my life where the large bucket of popcorn sitting in my lap served two purposes.
Grier wasn’t just hot. She was smoldering, with enough natural heat to produce an alternative energy source for, say, the planet.
It causes me to wonder, though, just where Social Justice Worriers (spelling intentional), include among many of their ill-conceived and utterly moronic ideas the notion that some mysterious “male beauty standard” is out their poisoning the minds of women, causing destruction to their otherwise intact sense of self-esteem and even driving some to starve themselves to death trying to get skinny enough to feel attractive.
That standard, say many of the professional, toothless Worriers, is used to drive women to purchase clothing, cosmetics and even surgery that they really don’t want. And of course we know the average woman had no investment at all in her physical attractiveness until COSMO and Redbook started publishing.
The men behind the curtain at those publications and others like it told all women they needed to look like Twiggy, and of course, women, being the mindless, servile creatures that they are, obeyed. Well, except for the huge number of women who are now more obese than at any time in human history.
Hint. Either go on a diet or start shopping for clothes at Omar the Tentmaker.
That is not a digression from the topic, as we now see popularized use in the Social Justice Worrier lexicon of terms like “fat shaming,” and “fat acceptance.” That is shorthand for learn to love coronary artery disease, diabetes and sexual rejection. Such trends — and the statisitics — still stand in contrast to the assumption that we are shaming and manipulating women into becoming human stick figures.
Of course, the feminist solution is to take stupidly conceived problems and respond to them with even stupider proposed solutions, like “fat acceptance.”
I won’t bore you with an unneeded rehash on the science of human physical attraction (waist-to-hip ratio). For those interested, you can read a decent enough summary here:
Save the science for later, as it is scarcely useful in addressing feminist ideas, being just another artifact of patriarchal oppression.
For now, let’s stick with anecdotal reality. It is not any more useful to Feminist Worriers, since “anecdotal reality” still contains the word reality, but at least it can be demonstrated pictorially, which gives them a fighting chance at understanding. Please take note of the following images:
This is just a small handful of some of the most famous sex bombs in media history. As always, there will be some complaints from the peanut gallery. Why did you leave out Kate Upton? What about Selma Hayek? And where, for Pete’s sake, is Apollonia?
Sorry, but write your own article. While all these non-imaged women score high on the scorch meter, I had the pleasure of personal choice here, even if some of my choices were bona fide femtard throwaways, e.g. Beyoncé. Even stupid can be hot, and some would be even hotter if they were too stupid to talk.
Now, that actually was a digression. Allow me to put the rails back on the track.
The point here is that throughout history, bigger, meatier more buxom and Rubenesque women have always captured the libidos of a majority of men. As long as the proportions were even close to correct, and as long as the brain did not come addled with too much stupid, they resulted in perfectly acceptable sexual specimens.
Let’s revert back to imagery for feminist readers:
Now, to the core of the issue, and will full disclosure. I am not fat shaming here. Truth is, I am 50 (probably closer to 60) pounds overweight myself. Fortunately I have learned how not to crawl under the bed and cry hysterically whenever someone mentions that I would be healthier if I lost weight.
First, even if I tried, I would not fit under the bed. Too damned fat for that. Second, it is a stupid, emotionally feeble response to hearing facts, thus the special tools provided in this article for feminists.
I type with my laptop, in my, uh, lap. I figure when I can no longer see the keyboard I will cut back on the linguini. Till then, I accept my extra weight, and don’t give a flying tosh what the rest of the world thinks about it.
I am here, however, to do some stupid shaming. Like stupid to the level that people reach when they decide that what you are sexually attracted to is a political choice, not a biological one. These are people who think there is something wrong with you if cellulite and triple chins don’t give you a boner.
“Nice body!” said Joseph Goebbels
No matter how hard you try, you can’t push people in that kind of direction. Take the once super, super, SUPER model Twiggy as an example.
She was becoming huge (in terms of popularity) about the time I started figuring out what to do with a hardon in the bathroom, but I never rubbed one out thinking about her.
Why? Because Twiggy was not a woman. She was a coat hanger who occasionally had a piece of lettuce and a sip of water. They put millions into pushing her image. She was still less sexy than a number two pencil and far less useful.
The point here is that no one, not even with the help of attraction theory research, can dictate what anyone will be attracted to. Ask any cab driver trying to date a female surgeon, even one that looks like Jacklyn Friedman.
Some men really are turned on by very large women. Some are indeed turned on by women who look like they spent the summer in a concentration camp. To each his own, as they say, and there is not a person on earth who can rightfully judge it.
Just as true is the fact that no matter what you do, you can’t make someone attracted to things that repulse them. If you don’t like your body, then change it. If you weigh “too much” lose weight. If you don’t weigh “enough” put some on. For for the freaking love of god quit trying to infect the world with the infantile idea that you have a right to turn them on. You don’t. The entire planet has a right to throw up in thier mouth a little at the very sight of you.
Deal with it.
Time to end the fatuous shaming
I used the above feature image for a reason. Pam Grier, now 65, was a regular visitor (and I dare say near permanent resident) of my teenage masturbatory fantasies.