I really love these posts that rip feminist mythology to shreds (a fun and easy sport even the kids will love!). You can just imagine their porky forehead veins throbbing with rage as they read the following article by Virginia Postrel:
We should never again hear anyone declare that Marilyn Monroe was a size 12, a size 14 or any other stand-in for full-figured, zaftig or plump. Fifteen thousand people have now seen dramatic evidence to the contrary. Monroe was, in fact, teeny-tiny.
The 15,000 were the visitors who turned out over eight days to oooh and aaah at the preview exhibit for the June 18 auction of Debbie Reynolds’s extraordinary collection of Hollywood costumes, props and other memorabilia.
The two comments heard most often in the crowded galleries were (to paraphrase), “Wow, they were thin” and “It’s such a shame. These things should be in a museum.” […]
The auction’s top-ticket item was Monroe’s famous white halter dress from “The Seven Year Itch,” the one that billowed up as the subway passed. It sold for almost $5.66 million (including the buyer’s premium) to an unknown phone bidder. Sharing a rotating mirrored platform with Hedy Lamarr’s peacock gown from “Samson and Delilah” and Kim Novak’s rhinestone- fringed show dress from “Jeanne Eagels,” Monroe’s costume was displayed on a mannequin that had been carved down from a standard size 2 to accommodate the tiny waist. Even then, the zipper could not entirely close.
But that’s just one dress. Perhaps the star was having a skinny day. To check, you could look across the room and see that Monroe’s red-sequined show dress from “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” was at least as petite, as were the saloon costume from “River of No Return” and the tropical “Heat Wave” outfit from “There’s No Business Like Show Business.
In fact, the average waist measurement of the four Monroe dresses was a mere 22 inches, according to Lisa Urban, the Hollywood consultant who dressed the mannequins and took measurements for me. Even Monroe’s bust was a modest 34 inches.
That’s not an anecdote. That’s data.
The other actresses’ costumes provided further context. “It’s like half a person,” marveled a visitor at the sight of Claudette Colbert’s gold-lame “Cleopatra” gown (waist 18 inches). “That waist is the size of my thigh,” said a tall, slim man, looking at Carole Lombard’s dress from “No Man of Her Own” (a slight exaggeration — it was 21 inches). Approaching Katharine Hepburn’s “Mary of Scotland” costumes, a plump woman declared with a mixture of envy and disgust, “Another skinny one.”
The pattern she noticed was real. At my request, Urban took waist measurements on garments worn by 16 different stars, from Mary Pickford in 1929 (20 inches) to Barbra Streisand in 1969 (24 inches). The thickest waist she found was Mae West’s 26 inches in “Myra Breckinridge,” when the actress was 77 years old.
The average waist size of American women in 2011?: 34.5 inches.
The insistence by fatty fat fatty apologists and the misfit motley crew of “cultural conditioning” feminists that Marilyn Monroe was a plump woman, a chubby chick, Rubenesque, zaftig, or, (my personal favorite), cuuuuuuurvy is nothing but the oinks of lying propagandists who want you to believe that men have since been somehow magically programmed by… who, exactly? Government agents? Hollywood? Frat boys? Stuxnet?… to prefer anorexic chicks over their true preference for supposed chubsters like Monroe.
For a long time this claim went unanswered; one, because no one bothered to fact check its self-evident PC truthiness, and two, because loudmouthed, ugly femcunts have cowed journalists and pundits into abject submission. But now the facts are in: Marilyn Monroe was a SLENDER BABE. There wasn’t a BBW bone in her skinny sexy body.
Women REALLY WERE thinner back in what the feminists call the bad old days. There wasn’t some fairytale fatopia in the 1950s when the men lusted for rotund mamas, and women were real women with curves and meat on the bones. Nope, women of the past were definitely thinner, and they were even thinner than what we would consider a thin girl today! That’s how warped our professed standards in female beauty have become. Men and women alike have drunk the feminist Koolaid, and coupled with the inability to avoid the sheer numbers of fat chicks rumbling over our frappuccino plains the result is a grudging, deflating acceptance that bigger, fatter, heftier women are here to stay, and baby you better believe they are HOT STUFF. A lot of men, seeing how few options they have when 9/10s of their prospects roll with a mushroom cloud top, are gonna revert to the one face-saving ploy in their arsenal: sour grapes.
“Hey man, I don’t want some anorexic bag of bones. Fat-bottomed girls make the rockin’ world go round. A whole lotta woman needs a whole lot more. Big girls you are beautiful!”
Nice try, JoeBob, but I know what you’re really thinking.
(Ever notice how gay male rockstars love to sing the praises of fat chicks? Wazzupwitdat?)
This is all part and parcel of a cultural plumping up of the American woman over the last half century to go along with her actual plumping up. Dress sizes have changed to accommodate the tender egos of the lardasses thundering around clothing stores now, so that, for example, what once was a size 10 dress is now a size 6 dress. What was considered a really fat chick in 1950 might’ve worn a size 15, but today the typical fat chick is so much fatter than her 1950s counterpart that she slips into the equivalent of a dainty size 38 number.
You can’t blame the retailers and clothing manufacturers, though. They just want to turn a profit, and if that means giving fatties an artificial high from being able to claim they wear a smaller size than they really do, then they’ll minimize dress sizes forever. If present trends are indicative of future results, a size 0 dress will soon be able to double as a mosquito net.
The fattening of American women is a goddamned fucking TRAGEDY. It robs the country of beautiful women, and thus robs American men of tactile sexual pleasure and aesthetic visual pleasure. A direct analogy would be if the nation’s men all decided to quit their jobs, shart on first dates, act like nervous dweebs and change diapers for a hobby. Yeah, don’t sound so hot, does it ladies? Now maybe you can grasp why every evangelical equalist effort to normalize expanding waistlines and rolling waves of blubber is a sin committed against beauty, and thus, against truth.
Game isn’t so much about being able to play the field in perpetuity as it is about navigating a shrinking dating pool of sexy slender chicks getting squeezed by an advancing army of fat chicks. It’s been written here before: as the expendable sex, men react to conditions in the sexual market; they don’t create those conditions. And right now conditions are Code Well-Fed, mothafuckaaaaaa.
PS I’d like to start a new advocacy group called the National Association for the Advancement of Half-Weight Women. God bless those half-weight women we’ve lost to the tidal wave of sugar and midnight snacking. Boners unite under the banner of Half-Weight Women! Raise your flag and smite the enemy Double-Weight Women! Smite them with a cupcake avalanche!