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Anorexic chicks are hot. Just look at these ribs. I could just rip one out and take a
bite.
I'm sure there are guys out there with differing opinions, and I more or less respect that,
but I have the same rule about women as I do about technology: if I can snap it in half,
I don't want it within my splash radius.
There was actually an interesting article published by Wired magazine in February of
last year. It's called 'Today's Playmates Are More Like Anime Figures Than Real Humans.'
And I'm sure if anime characters could think for themselves rather than perpetually running
off of a script, they'd probably be offended by that statement. But it's true, isn't it?
Basically, the article went back through the history of Playboy and looked at the measurements
of the models. In 1960, the models were only slightly thinner than the population at large.
The playmate's average BMI was 19.4, while American's at not-yet-so-large came in at
22.2. Fast forward to the early 2000s and the average Playmate BMI has dropped to 18.2,
while the general population's BMI had skyrocketed to 26.8. Playboy and reality have gone in
completely opposite directions.
Miss October 1964 was a healthy 145 pounds, and I must say that, with the exception of
the 60s-style big hair, she's quite hot. Miss March 2008? Only 108 pounds, with the humanity
photoshopped right out of her. I'd probably break her in half just trying to give her
a hug.
I'm not going to lie: I take a guilty pleasure in indoor plumbing and electricity, but there
are parts of the renaissance that I want back. Titian and Bellini knew what beautiful women
looked like, and their bodies are forever ensconced in pieces of art. These chicks hang
out in art museums. Where will the playboy bunnies be in 500 years?
I don't have some vendetta against the mainstream media. Truth be told, they're only giving
us what earns them money, and what earns them money is what we pay for. Sure, they have
the power of suggestion--they can try to tell us what beauty is--but we don't have to accept
what they give us.
So, if this isn't a diatribe against the media, what is it? It's me. Really bringing sexy
back, all the way from 1538. Not really back, because sexy was never gone and sexy was never
dead. It's just been hiding from the abuse of magazines and TV commercials, and telling
itself that it's ugly.
I'm sick of a society where there are two groups of women: women who don't feel beautiful,
and balk at the compliments they recieve, and those women who feel beautiful, and cringe
at the compliments they recieve, wishing they'd get noticed for anything but their looks.
Compliments shouldn't be cheapened, but they have been. Just check out Not Pretty, Really
over on the sundance channel if you don't believe me.
And my friends tell me that they wish they were thinner. I tell them that they are beautiful
just the way they are. I don't mean on the inside, though they are beautiful there too.
They are gorgeous, and sexy, and heart-stoppingly beautiful. They deserve to be held, kissed,
loved.
If I have no vendetta against the media, if this isn't a diatribe against them, what is
it? It's a compliment. You are beautiful.
And maybe some of you think that anorexic supermodels are the epitome of beauty, and
maybe some of you don't want to look at people without the filter of photoshop. More power
to you. But if you think like I think, and you haven't told the people that you care
about that they are beautiful, tell them now, while there's still a chance to save our humanity
from the maw of superficiality.