Poor, poor men!
No, I really mean that. I feel very sorry for men today. Especially those brave young (and not so young) guys on the dating scene. They live in a world of feminine deception, estrogen-laden illusions, bait and switch and ultimately sheer treachery.
We all know about the falsehood of falsies. That's why they're called falsies, right? Bras with built in boobs. Pushing up and out an A cup sized breast under the guise of a C cup delight. I gather most men know that the breasts that see on that gal standing at the Friday's bar are quite possibly counterfeit cuppas. Even if they're real they could be fake. Men get that.
But there's a new traitor in town. It's called the "tummy tuck jean." Even I have to ask WTF is that? How about a pair of jeans that must have some sort of girdle like material that claims to make you a size smaller. OK, so if you're a fourteen and you squeeze yourself into a twelve and feel all svelte and sexy what happens to the poor slob who unleashses your tidal wave of tubbiness at midnight??? Really? Do you really want to start your foreplay with "THAR SHE BLOWS!" I think not.
If you're a size fourteen you can be every bit as attractive and sexy and wonderful as a size two. I admit that if you're very obese you might have a tougher time landing a date, but that's not news to you, right? This obsession with size and numbers and looks is daunting.
I guess when I really think about it, it's the WOMEN I feel most sorry for. Love yourselves, darn it. A man who loves you more as a size 12 than a size 14 isn't worth spit.