A neighbor’s son — let’s call him PumpkinHead — turned 21 yesterday, so my son and I stopped by to bring a present and our best wishes. It seemed like a good opportunity for him to meet some new women, and women were everywhere!
PumpkinHead and his older brother PotatoHead are popular guys in this town, and they seem to know everyone. Both good-looking, fun men to be around, with good jobs and a great family and all their shit together. So obviously, very popular with the ladies.
But looking around last night for potential prospects for my son, I noticed something striking. Every single one of the women at the party was fat.
Every. Single. One.
And I don’t mean 5 pounds not quite a supermodel with washboard abs. I mean FAT. And not one of them seemed to give a shit. They were all decked out in fancy whore clothes, faces slathered with makeup, hair done up and pretty. Glorious muffin-tops and gunts everywhere.
It was just gross. I asked both PumpkinHead and PotatoHead if they noticed that all the women were fat. “Of course,” they said, “but that’s what’s available.”
One of the chubbies overheard the conversation, and in truth, I wasn’t being all that subtle about it (I rarely am). You would think they would unsheathe their claws at hearing themselves described as fat. Nope. Just a shrug. They don’t care.
“You’re so young,” I said to one of the girls, “Why do you do this to yourself?”
Her answer? “Because we can.”
Let’s unpack that, shall we? In that assertion are a number of truths about how young women feel about young men.
And I’ll preface all of this by saying very FEW of the men were overweight. PumpkinHead and his brother are in precisely the sort of shape you would expect young, virile, battle ready men to be in: great! My son, who is a bit older than PumpkinHead is also in fantastic physical shape, and he works hard to keep himself fit and strong.
The very first thing fat girls feel is ENTITLED.
It’s not that they don’t understand that most men prefer slender women to overweight women – that would be impossible to miss in a culture saturated with images of thin women as objects of desire. It’s just that they don’t care. Desirable is not part of their self-definition.
What men desire is a subject of absolutely no interest to young women, who seem to have embraced the whole “grrl power” sensibility.
They know the school system is geared towards their success at the expense of boys. They know most university places are reserved for them. They know most bullshit paper shuffling government jobs will go to them, with benefits and pensions and no expectation of any actual work. They know they can pick and choose a male partner and ditch him whenever the mood strikes, while keeping his children and most of his cash.
Why SHOULD they give those nachos a pass? They have all the power, and it doesn’t matter what the boys think or feel or want. The price for being fat is giving up access to Alpha Males like my son, but shrug – they don’t really care about that, either.
The fat women at that party felt absolutely and completely entitled to the attention of men without having to make a single damn effort.
What these women don’t seem to grasp is that when they give up beauty, they are in a very real sense giving up love.
The relationship between beauty and love has long been a subject for poets and philosophers alike, and most agree that love and beauty are flip sides of the same coin. What we love, we find beautiful, and what we find beautiful, we love. Without beauty, there is little chance for love.
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
Christopher Brennan (1870 – 1932)
There is power in beauty and the fact that women no longer give a shit about beauty speaks volumes to the powers they have gained, and the ones they are throwing away.
Here’s another true story: I recently took my littlest daughter on an overseas trip to visit a friend with a very ill child. I went to give the parents some respite, a chance to sleep and to catch their breaths and to take on all their household chores so they could concentrate on their little guy. The trip was a bit of a rush, and my husband took care of all of the bookings and details, and just handed me a folder of papers and some money and our passports.
We live in a small town with a small airport that only has four flights a day on the particular airline I was flying. In a rush to get out of the house, I barely listened to my husband reciting the details of my flights, and I heard “you’re on the late flight back so I will pick you up at 11PM,” and then I put the whole thing out of my head.
The trip was a smashing success, and me and my daughter had a fabulous time and we left our friends rested and organized and the little guy on the mend. During our trip, I never once looked at my boarding pass or any other details of our flights. I simply recalled that my husband would be picking us up at 11PM, which meant we were on the last flight of the day.
After a long international flight, we went to the regional flights terminal, where I noted that there was an earlier flight we had time to board. I tried to get our tickets changed to the second last flight of the day, but alas, it was sold out. So we sat down for a long wait for the last flight.
And, oops! We were actually booked for that second last flight. I never read my boarding pass. It was a complete and total fuck-up.
Here’s where it gets interesting. I went to the customer service desk and stood in line behind another gentleman who had missed his flight due to an extensive security search of his bags. The customer service agent gave not one fuck and charged him several hundreds of dollars to rebook his flight. I was completely horrified that my stupid mistake was about to cost my husband hundreds of dollars when he had already spent so much money letting me go to my friend in the first place.
The customer service agent was a young man, probably not even 30, great shape, really good looking and apparently not very sympathetic, based on the previous guy who missed his flight.
I took a deep breath, put on some sparkly lip gloss, took off my jacket, adjusted my super comfy and also super hot yoga pants and told him my story. I did not read my boarding pass. I simply took my husband’s word for when my flight was, missed my actual flight and now I needed to be rebooked on the next flight, which would not be until the morning.
He got the strangest look on his face when I told him all of the above. I was expecting some eye-rolling and sighing, but instead, he seemed almost amused and impressed? He called up the next day’s flights and found two seats available.
And he booked me on them. And charged me nothing. Zip. Not a penny.
Then he gave me a voucher for the airport hotel and wrote that I had missed my flight due to airline events beyond my control, so that cost was covered, too. He even offered me a travel bag with toothpaste, slippers, shampoo, etc, but I had all that in my carry-on bag so I was able to decline graciously. He put up his Back Soon sign and physically walked me over to the shuttle bus to the hotel.
And I’m not even that beautiful! But in a sea of women who roll around with thongs stuck up arses way too big for stretch pants, with attitudes to match, even a little bit of beauty goes a long way.
Thank god I got a young male CSR. Had I found myself standing in front of the haggard middle aged broad who was also manning the desk, my mistake would have cost well over $500.
But it didn’t. It cost me nothing but time and a little chagrin (how could I be so stupid?).
Because I pass on the nachos. And I care about being desirable. And I don’t automatically feel entitled to male attention or help. And because of that, men help me. They take care of me, protect me, assist me and just generally make my life very pleasant and enjoyable.
There is value in beauty, and more than just the cost of a re-booked plane ticket or hotel room. Beauty is a physical way of showing that you value and care about men and what they want.
Being fat just because you can be is a slap in the face to men, and if you plan on going through life a walking testament to how little you regard the needs and desires of men, plan on going through it without love, too.
Cold winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour
The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me
Out of those Azure heavens and this green earth —
I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see.
As long as I love Beauty I am young,
Am young or old as I love more or less;
When Beauty is not heeded or seems stale,
My life’s a cheat, let Death end my distress.
William Henry Davies (1871 – 1940)
And for fuck’s sake! Don’t eat nachos! They will make you fat.
P.S. Protect yourself from the coming data-powered panopticon by getting a VPN.