take a gander
She looks so beautiful!
She looks like a million dollars, ha ha. Not actually. She does look really nice though. Her hair, her clothes, the way her face is done up.
She look like someone that hard work never gets within five miles of.
That’s so neat. I really like it.
Hey, that’s what they’re for, aren’t they? Her long fingernails and her delicate stockings. Her high heels! Like a slave without a suntan. All ways to say “I don’t have to work,” without saying a word.
Huh, she probably does work though, right? That’s funny. What’s she wearing that for then? Who told her to?
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I thought the other day: some girls smell like flowers; other girls grow them. But it’s not true, is it.*
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About ten years ago, I started suggesting men should wear padded wire cups on their testicles, to lift at least, if not separate– and display them better through their clothes. Because, as a homosexual female friend of mine told me, if women don’t like mens’ parts, “then what are they bringing them home for?!”**
(She was really funny. There was no convincing her that any woman found any man physically attractive. At all. She’d read a book.)
Funnily enough, women hated my suggestion, but men liked it. Maybe they appreciated the support. They even went ahead and invented it–but to wear only during sex.**
No, I am not gloating. Ok, maybe a little. I was right! I thought it was a good idea. That’s why I had it. And then the other night Jimmy Kimmel talked about it on TV.
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My generation’s mothers grew up watching their mothers not be allowed to work or attend college. They didn’t talk about it much, but we knew.
My generation’s daughters are almost 10% more likely to graduate from college than its sons. I hate to say that just adding more rules (i.e. the merit-based structure of higher ed) was enough to tip the playing field in women’s favor. Especially since that’s not the case.***
The challenge of free people is to invent the new ways of life that freedom enables, that will become traditional for future free people. Did you know that was your job? I mean, your privilege?
*I do neither!****
**We were in Berlin. It was a long time ago.*****
**I’m not going to tell you what it’s called, because if you look it up, the results are gross. If you can figure out what it’s called, I warned you.
***This is another blog. This one is too long already.******
****Just kidding. I do both.
*****No I didn’t! Don’t even think that!
******SIze matters.