Oy, forgive my absence. You don't even want to know what I have been up to lately. All work and no play, yadda yadda.
Who wants to play a quick installment of HotorNot.com?! (My hand is up in case you were wondering.)
HotORNot.com could be called a game, but it could also be called a random assortment of things I need to remind myself of on a daily (hourly?) basis so I do not spin off and go completely bat sh*t crazy. (The fact that we have never played this game before solidifies the fact that, yes, I already am bat sh*t crazy.)
I will post two pictures and you might shout "HOT" at one and I might shout "NOT" at the other and then we will wrestle and whoever gives up loses? Deal? Just kidding. This will really be more like me screaming "HOT HOT HOT" at my computer screen while my coworkers listen intently and maybe call HR.
Ready? Here goes nuttin'.
Size -4 vs. Size 12 to 14? Tough call, right?
WRONG. This isn't a tough call at all. This is the easiest call ever. This is like answering the phone to a "CONGRATULATIONS, you've won" kind of call.
You see, the stupid silly side of me instantly glues to the first image, and then I commence sighing and maybe even batting my eyelashes. Visible bone structure: YES. Arms the size of a pre-teen's: YES. Pokey hip bones with plenty of sass: DUH. Literal chicken bones for legs: I WANT IT ALL.
But after a few light slams to the face, I come out of my thin-envy coma and I start to look around and I notice the second image. A voluptuous chest and broad shoulders that transition into a midsection stretched across wide feminine hips.
She is so brave, I think to myself.
We are a sick bunch. And if you don't want to admit it, fine, but I will admit that I am a sick bunch. Well, a sick singular—but I digress. How can we desire this thinness so strongly, so fiercely, that we are willing to lose the natural developments that make us so beautifully female? Why do we beg our curves to melt into stick-straightness that make us look like any hip-less man? I love a healthy, active woman who stands up and says, screw you if my curves make you uncomfortable. I think I'm beautiful. And I want to someday be one of them.
I need to look at these photos everyday. I need to stand in the mirror and say, screw you to the voice that tells me "Geez, this is the biggest you've ever been." And "wow, you always thought you were big back then but look at you now. Look at those soft rolls of skin that were never here before!" I need to condition myself to see a thin woman and think, man, unless she is naturally that thin, she must have a lot of free time on her hands, instead of GIMMIE. I WANT. I need to see the feminine bounty—yes I said it—that was given to me as a blessing rather than a curse.
I also need to stop worrying about if my stomach sticks out in this or if my arms look thick in that. Who cares? We're all HOT or NOT to someone. The only way to get through this cruel world is to forget about those jerks, stay healthy and tell yourself you're the hottest thing around, and let that be enough.
And if that doesn't work, show the above photos to your man friend. I bet you 1/4th of a can of Diet Coke that he will completely stop listening to you (and likely start drooling) the very SECOND he spots image #2.