Thursday, February 13, 2014
This actually has nothing to do with body image, and everything to do with men. So let me say...I love the notion of Valentine's Day. I love that there is one day dedicated to romance. That there are hearts everywhere. (I love hearts). I love that it's a day to let it out and not be ashamed of it. Silly giggles, secrets, cards, candy (yeah, I love candy), possibly jewelry, and then later....lingerie and sex...what's not to like? Well, here's the thing. It takes two to Valentine. In my case, it takes a guy. I can't do this by myself. I suppose I could, but what's the point? If I'm buying a box of candy for myself, I'm waiting till the 15th, when it's half off. Not the 14th. So why are men such simpletons about this day? I don't get it. I'm not even talking about the ones who are on the fence, who don't want the woman to get the wrong idea (insert eye roll here, but I suppose that's permitted). I'm talking about the ones in long-term relationships, the ones who are already committed. The ones who "forget" the day, get "too busy", or whatever other lame excuse you can think up. WHY? I don't get WHY!!! If I told a man that I knew of something that happened more or less in the dead middle of winter, that brightened everyone's day, that would in fact make the REST of winter better, that would guarantee him at least one day of a happier home life, possibly a week and with luck a month, and that this thing was available more or less anywhere, could cost as little as $20 (though it could cost substantially more), only took, oh, a half hour to accomplish, and, not only all of that, pretty much guaranteed him SEX--and HOT SEX--wouldn't you think he'd be jumping at this miracle? Why, yes, you would. You would think that. But then tell his same man, who thinks he's going to get the answer to all his prayers that this thing is a card and a box of candy (possibly flowers) for Valentine's Day, and he's appalled. Horrified. Starts spouting things like Hallmark Holiday. Has a million excuses. Just can't bring himself to do such a thing. I have no answers here. And this is a thing that affects all women, across the board. Fat, thin, tall, short, young, old--you name it, a woman with a man (and probably a good many lesbians, too, though I have absolutely no statistics on this) has probably gone through this. MEN! GOOD TIMES!! SEX!! HAPPINESS!!! SEX!!! PEACE IN THE HOUSE!!! PROBABLY A BLOW JOB!!!! Buy the damned card!
Saturday, February 1, 2014
First let me say that I managed to watch about 15 minutes of the first episode of "Girls" and had to turn off the television. I admit freely that I'm too old. Those girls are my daughters' ages, and no, I don't mind the notion that they're having sex, or whatever else they do, (since I had sex at that age myself) I minded how incredibly awkward it was. Not the sex. Everything. So, having said that, let me go on to say that everything I know about the show is complete hearsay. But I think I got some of they main stuff, at least as far as it has to do with body image. Lena Dunham/Hannah Horvath does not have what is considered a perfect body and she has the audacity to show it naked anyway. Does that about sum it up? And by the way, I know that I'm not the first person to have said that particular thing, either. So, I guess there was an episode where she hooked up for a weekend with a hot, successful older man. ALERT THE PRESS!!!! Which has been done, in fact. Lots of press, press that didn't exist when that phrase was coined. Apparently this is news. Apparently this upset/s people. Because, you know, this was just stretching the limits of poetic license TOO far. We can all believe that every single young mother in every movie and every TV show is tops a size 4, we can believe that sort of tubby, schlumpy guys get hot girls all the time, but we can't believe that. (Well, we can believe that last thing because we see it all the time in LIFE--! Unshaven, and not hipsterly unshaven, guys with beer bellies, with girls who you KNOW are counting their potato chips and having sex with the lights out because of their imperfections). But it can't be shown in the name of art, or the name of art that shows us reality. Because apparently, that never happens. Life is strange, my friends, life is strange. The first time I ever had my attention called to the fact that not all couples are not equal in terms of attractiveness, and that the attractiveness does not always skew to the female, I was probably 22, and right out of college. Honest to God, I swear I never thought that much about it before that. I had issues, God knows, we all do, but just about everyone I saw around me was reasonable looking, with the occasional stand-out one way or the other, and so it just wasn't a thing. But I moved to my mother's old neighborhood (ironically enough, in Brooklyn) and so my mother knew the back-story on most of the people I saw around. Some of them figured out who I was, and talked to me. One was a very nice lady called Milly, who, to be perfectly honest, had a face like a prize-fighter. Really. And I think I said something like that to my mother, who said, "Yes, she does. And you know what? She had the handsomest husband--handsome like a movie star, and he adored her." And that was the end of that conversation, because there was no more to be said. And so, since I was learning an awful lot about the world at that time, most of it by eavesdropping, I filed it under, things about adults I don't get, and moved on. I'm pretty sure I saw some uneven couples other than that over the years, and I read stuff about how people generally choose others whom they perceive to be of the same general attractiveness as themselves, and I noticed stuff. And then there was me. I was (and remain, though I'm working on it) convinced that I would win no prizes....that I'm not very pretty, as things are judged. (Now, over the years, a great many people have said the same exact thing to me, to wit, you're much more attractive than you think you are, you have no idea, but that's for another blog altogether). But I have some pretty good anecdotal evidence that every once in a while, a non-supermodel girl can get a hot guy. Mostly it has to do with sex, I'll be the first to admit it, but when you're that age, a LOT of things have to do with sex. I wouldn't dignify any of those things with the name "relationship", because "encounter" comes a lot closer to the truth, but attract them I did. Not on every street corner, and not every day, but often enough that I was good with it. So when I heard about that particular "Girls" episode, I thought, oh, that. Yeah, I know about that. Let me say that in spite of having lived a lot of years, I don't have any special idea about what attracts one human to another. I think that some people do absolutely have more pheromones than others, and that attracts members of the opposite sex. I can remember working at a craft show in a hip location and two separate men came through. One was tall, Hispanic, had strong features and swollen eyes (and I found out later in a very roundabout fashion, it was because he had allergies) but he looked to me like he had been up all night having sex. I wanted to keep him up all the next night having sex. At the same show was a hippy-looking guy, long no-color hair, nothing remarkable whatsoever about him, but I poked my friend and said, "Him. Him I'd do." And she looked and said, "Yeah. Throw HIM around for a while." And all these years later--maybe 15, maybe more? I remember him. And a young man who was oozing so much not even sex appeal, just appeal, that I wanted to tell him that we needed to get started on my having his 7 children, because that was what he made me want to say. So...it exists. In people who are otherwise perfectly average. And I myself have maintained a relationship for over a decade with a man who everyone agrees is very hot--and I don't have any clear notion of what sustains it from my side, but I can tell you for sure, it's not my size 4 body or my conventional prettiness or attractiveness. And I wonder sometimes, but then I shrug my mental shoulders and say something to myself on the lines of "whatever", or my daughter's favorite, "I don't know. It's weird," and move on. Because whatever else I know, I know this. People have sex with each other ALL THE TIME. They aren't perfect, because people aren't perfect! Guys have beer bellies and funny moles (and funny dicks--strong bend to the left, anyone?) and strange ears and HAIR in those strange ears, and they're still getting laid and women fall in love with them. And girls have pooches and muffin tops and boobs that don't stand at attention, and big noses, or small mouths, and big thighs--and men fall in love with THEM all the time, too. And they all deserve it, there's no nonsense about not deserving something based on how you look, at least not something as nebulous as love. I'm not positive I agree with Lena Dunham and her drive to be naked on TV to show us all what it looks like, but I do agree with that particular story line. It happens. It absolutely happens. Tonight's Saturday. It's probably happening right now.