Nike has a new series of print ads out that big girls should love. Naturally, this campaign is aimed at the athletically built woman. However, the athletically built woman is often depicted as slim and trim and slender. I suppose that is an accurated depiction if she is a willowy contortionist. But many athletes have muscle and curves... This new ad campaign is amazing. Look for one of the ads in your next women's magazine.
BUTT--
My butt is big
and round like the letter C
and ten thousand lunges have made it rounder
but not smaller
and that's just fine
It's a space heater for my side of the bed
It's my ambassador to those who walk behind me
It's a border collie that herds skinny women
away from the best deals
At clothing sales
My butt is big and that's just fine
And those who might scorn it
Are invited to kiss it.
Just do it.
Legs--
My legs
were once two hairy sticks
that weren't very good at jump rope
but by the time I reached the age of algebra
they had come into their own
and now in spin class
they are revered
envied for their strength
Honored for their beauty
hairless for the most part
except that place the razor misses
just behind the ankles
Just do it.
Thighs--
I have thunder thighs
and that's a compliment
because they are strong
and toned
and muscular
and though they are unwelcome
in the petite section
they are cheered on in marathons
fifty years from now I'll bounce a grandchild on my thunder thighs
and then I'll go out for a run
Just do it.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Monday, August 08, 2005
The Stamp on my Forehead
Hours have wasted away as I've stood before the mirror staring at my forehead trying desperately to see the message that must be clearly stamped there. Squinting my eyes, sighing deeply, taking a break and then starting up again... But I can't see it. Not even a trace of it. The words escape me. So I am left to imagine what the message must be with only my life experiences to help me decode the cryptic text.
For years, I imagined that the stamp on my head read: "If You're Poor, Broke, Old, or Lonely, I'm your girl." Every old and lonely or young and unambitious guy that crossed my path tried to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Homeless men would give me a shout out as I walked down the street. I thought, "Are you serious? Do I look like I wanna drag your tired butt out of the gutter and turn your life around?" Then I realized, it's not his fault... IT MUST BE the stamp on my forehead.
More than once I know my stamp has said, "I don't really know what I want, why don't YOU TELL ME what YOU THINK I want." Not that I have seen those words with my own eyes. But it seems like everywhere I go, guys are telling me what I want. "You like what you see, huh, baby?" "Oh, you know you want me." "Come on, you can't get better than this." Yes, my friends these are phrases that have parted the lips of men and fallen upon my delicate ears. Here is the creme de la creme: "You need a man like me... I've got a tongue like a lizard."
Not only has face to face contact with the male persuasion provided evidence for this particular stamp but I have also had proof from my online dating excursions. I don't know if they see it in the pictures I post or what! But guys can read my profile through and through and even if they don't meet my requirements, they contact me. The profile CLEARLY says looking for a male ages 28 to 38. (I realize I should probably go older but I am not 35 YET!) Why then, if you are 52, would you drop me a line to "see if we are a good fit." NO! We are not. You are 52! But it's not your fault. It's that damn stamp on my forehead. I also maintain a strict height requirement when dating online. I am 5'10" so a guy who is 5'6" is not going to work for me. So, my profile states that I "NEED A TALL MAN" and I would like someone over 6'. Yet, the vertically challenged types continue to clog my email trying to convince me that short men are better in bed or just as able to protect me and make me feel like a woman. That's all good and fine but what I really want is a tall man. Oh crap... that's right... my sign says that I don't know what I want. Thanks for trying to help me out.
The bottom line is that if they want you, they will pursue you. They just keep coming back, asking you out, reminding you that you were nice to them once so you MUST be interested.
Right now, my forehead must be boldly proclaiming, "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT." Because, quite frankly men won't come near me. Perhaps I am projecting my lack of desire to try any more. I put on my best bitch face every day before I leave. The optimism by which I have lived my life believing that everything happens in due time has been replaced with frustration and a burgeoning belief that men just don't listen, they don't really care what you want and they are each looking for the ideal woman who will fit perfectly into their little mind-manufactured molds.
Somebody pass me a scouring pad... I am going to hit the showers.
For years, I imagined that the stamp on my head read: "If You're Poor, Broke, Old, or Lonely, I'm your girl." Every old and lonely or young and unambitious guy that crossed my path tried to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Homeless men would give me a shout out as I walked down the street. I thought, "Are you serious? Do I look like I wanna drag your tired butt out of the gutter and turn your life around?" Then I realized, it's not his fault... IT MUST BE the stamp on my forehead.
More than once I know my stamp has said, "I don't really know what I want, why don't YOU TELL ME what YOU THINK I want." Not that I have seen those words with my own eyes. But it seems like everywhere I go, guys are telling me what I want. "You like what you see, huh, baby?" "Oh, you know you want me." "Come on, you can't get better than this." Yes, my friends these are phrases that have parted the lips of men and fallen upon my delicate ears. Here is the creme de la creme: "You need a man like me... I've got a tongue like a lizard."
Not only has face to face contact with the male persuasion provided evidence for this particular stamp but I have also had proof from my online dating excursions. I don't know if they see it in the pictures I post or what! But guys can read my profile through and through and even if they don't meet my requirements, they contact me. The profile CLEARLY says looking for a male ages 28 to 38. (I realize I should probably go older but I am not 35 YET!) Why then, if you are 52, would you drop me a line to "see if we are a good fit." NO! We are not. You are 52! But it's not your fault. It's that damn stamp on my forehead. I also maintain a strict height requirement when dating online. I am 5'10" so a guy who is 5'6" is not going to work for me. So, my profile states that I "NEED A TALL MAN" and I would like someone over 6'. Yet, the vertically challenged types continue to clog my email trying to convince me that short men are better in bed or just as able to protect me and make me feel like a woman. That's all good and fine but what I really want is a tall man. Oh crap... that's right... my sign says that I don't know what I want. Thanks for trying to help me out.
The bottom line is that if they want you, they will pursue you. They just keep coming back, asking you out, reminding you that you were nice to them once so you MUST be interested.
Right now, my forehead must be boldly proclaiming, "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT." Because, quite frankly men won't come near me. Perhaps I am projecting my lack of desire to try any more. I put on my best bitch face every day before I leave. The optimism by which I have lived my life believing that everything happens in due time has been replaced with frustration and a burgeoning belief that men just don't listen, they don't really care what you want and they are each looking for the ideal woman who will fit perfectly into their little mind-manufactured molds.
Somebody pass me a scouring pad... I am going to hit the showers.
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