Guys and Dolls

I once dated a young man who liked thin women. When school and business separated us for three months, I decided to surprise him by losing weight. Implementing a regimen of exercise and strict dieting, I lost 25 pounds. As I lost weight, I noticed male heads starting to turn. I still remember one man in a grocery store. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stop to watch me push a grocery cart. Without thinking, I also stopped, turned, and glared at him. He looked startled and then paced away.

Although I still remember that incident all too clearly, I didn’t pick up on the lesson until my boyfriend made his reappearance. I put on a new, tight black dress for the occasion and drove to the airport. This time I watched for and consciously noticed male heads turning as I entered the airport. Rather than glaring, I smiled, anticipating my boyfriend’s delight.

Indeed, he smiled when he deplaned. He looked at me appreciatively and said, “Wow, good start! Another ten pounds and you’ll look like something!”

I said, “Yeah, a corpse. My doctor told me I’m already ten pounds underweight.”

He was not convinced. I was.

That was over forty years ago, and the Barbie doll was the American ideal even then, and too many girls and boys in America are still deluded about the human form.

Some time ago I read a study where young American men were asked which they found more attractive, a normal size woman or a store mannequin. Most chose the mannequin, an advertising model with dimensions quite similar to the ubiquitous Barbie doll.

I remember wanting to congratulate American advertising people for their ability to override human nature and convince a large number of young American men to desire fantasy creatures totally incapable of conception. According to everything I’ve read, the unindoctrinated human male tends to be more drawn to plump women, i.e. women capable of becoming pregnant and bearing their children. That’s nature’s way of sustaining the human race.

For those who don’t already know, were Barbie alive, she’d live only a few minutes because her neck wouldn’t hold up her head. Even if she were on life support, she wouldn’t have periods. Real women need a reserve of fat in order to conceive.

Oh well, the planet’s overpopulated, so I hope men continue to lust after this ultra-slim unicorn of a woman and leave the country on forever quest for this ideal. Outer space perhaps?

For those who aren’t hopelessly enmeshed in propaganda, there is some hope, as shown in articles like this one:

“They Gave Each Kid a Barbie and a Doll with Real Proportions. What They Say Next Really Says It All”

Thigh gaps are disgusting.

Cassandra

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