More Science Confirming Game Concepts: Long-Term Relationships Can Bring Out The Worst In Couples

Digging through the archives of the Chateau Heartiste library, we find a post about the hazards of LTRs and marriage.

Now you can’t do anything without her, and she you. In the beginning, this is a necessary process to build the level of trust and bonding that distinguishes the LTR from any run of the mill fling. But it morphs into a hermetic pair-bond cocoon, a soft escapable prison that shields from the outside world more than it protects. Increasingly consanguineous, the LTR alienates friends and slackens ambitions.

Scary stuff. Science has something to say about the deleterious effects of marriage on the female body, as well:

•Women in their teens and early 20s who continued to date but didn’t cohabitate gained an average of 15 pounds over five years; their male counterparts added about 24 pounds.

•Newly married women in that age group packed on 24 pounds in five years; newly married men gained 30 pounds.

That degree of gain wasn’t seen in couples who were living together but not married. Women gained 3 pounds more than their single peers — 18 pounds — and men gained 24 pounds.

When you see photos of the groom stuffing the bride’s mouth full of wedding cake as she licks down every last ounce of sloppy creamed filling, you may as well be watching the groom disposing of his sex and love life down her maw. But as we all know, men get very, very stupid about marrying the first semi-decent pussy who comes along.

The latest from the scientific front presents more CH-confirming evidence that LTRs and marriage have negative consequences for their practitioners.

For better or for worse, in sickness and in health – there’s a long line of research that associates marriage with reducing unhealthy habits such as smoking, and promoting better health habits such as regular checkups. However, new research is emerging that suggests married straight couples and cohabiting gay and lesbian couples in long-term intimate relationships may pick up each other’s unhealthy habits as well. […]

Corinne Reczek, a UC assistant professor of sociology, reports three distinct findings into how unhealthy habits were promoted through these long-term, intimate relationships: through the direct bad influence of one partner, through health habit synchronicity and through the notion of personal responsibility.

Reczek reports that gay, lesbian and straight couples all described the “bad influence” theme, while in straight partnerships, men were nearly always viewed as the “bad influence.” [ed: there go women again, abdicating all reason and accountability.]

[…] “Third, respondents utilized a discourse of personal responsibility to describe how even when they observe their partner partaking in an unhealthy habit, they do not attempt to change the habit, indicating that they were complicit in sustaining their partner’s unhealthy habits. The final theme was described primarily by straight men and women,” says Reczek.

So if your partner has unhealthy habits, (smoking, drinking to excess, overeating, underexercising, staying up late to watch Modern Family recordings or Jon Stewart smugly sing to the SWPL choir), you will likely pick up those bad habits. And thus we see how the fat acceptance movement gets its steam — osmotic inevitability. (In related news, according to the Red Cross, there are more obese than there are hungry in the world. We’ve entered the era of globulization.)

Of particular interest in the above study is the evidence that women, and presumably their lapdog betabitchboys, placed the blame for being a bad influence squarely on the men’s shoulders. It’s obvious to those in the know that this blame-shifting is complete bullshit, since (just to pick an easily discernible example at random) there are innumerable couples where the woman has gotten fat while the man stayed slim. Nothing will kill a man’s desire to please his woman in every way faster than the disfigurement of her body caused by bloating up from bellying up to the buffet.

Is there an enterprise in existence where women will blame themselves for something bad they did? To ask the question is to laugh at female absurdity. The rationalization hamster is a cosmic force on par with dark matter; you can’t see the little bugger, but goddamn is he everywhere, redirecting galactic phenomena at will.

Also interesting is the last line quoted above from the study. Partners are complicit in sustaining their SO’s bad habits because they don’t call them out on it. I think we can figure out who is most responsible for this dereliction of duty: sackless beta males who are afraid of the divorce raping and/or sex withholding they will assuredly receive if they displease their queen sovereigns by timidly mentioning in squeaky-voiced passing their increasing girth. Women, for their part, don’t attempt to change their partners’ bad habits for a different reason: they don’t have a clue how to articulate what is wrong with their beta boyfriends and hubbies.

This post, and others like it, is a helpful reminder to the “marriage is best” crowd that marriage — and, similarly, LTRs — hold special dangers for the man who allows himself to become ensnared. An LTR is a beautiful thing with the right woman and undertaken with the right alpha attitude, but it isn’t a panacea for all psychological, emotional or sexual needs, and it isn’t without its own problems that men who serially date don’t experience. When you commit to a woman with the intent of remaining monogamous, you acquire new obstacles to navigate and problems to avoid. Failure to recognize those LTR-inherent deficiencies and counteract them will lead to exile in betaville, where begging for blowjobs once per year and praying you don’t get reamed in court if she gets bored become part of the wonderful fabric of life.

As with everything you venture to explore, do it with your eyes open. Otherwise, you may as well hand your decision-making process over to a committee of cog-molding industrialists and ball-chopping feminists.

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Comment Of The Week: Fat Chicks And Their Ludicrous Standards

In yesterday’s post, Days of Broken Arrows made the following observation:

“Fatties also have a problem of unreasonable standards. I don’t think I’ve ever met a fat chick who was not convinced that she was still entitled to a 99-point checklist [Ed: 463 bullet point checklist is the term of art] and a man every bit as desirable as what her younger, thinner self would have bagged.”

I’ve been going through online dating Web site profiles and this statement is DEFINITELY true. It’s disturbing and doesn’t bode well for the country that seriously obese women will put out profiles demanding men be a certain height and weight. WTF?

I don’t spend much time at online dating sites, but I’ve seen the same attitude in real life. It’s preposterous, laughable. Fat chicks who pull the “I’m too good for any man” card are engaging in a very transparent example of sour grapes. It’s easy and emotionally cost-free for a fat chick/old chick/ugly chick/single mommy to have standards no man will meet when most men who aren’t losers couldn’t be bothered to meet her standards in the first place. It’s analogous to crowing about being virtuous when there is no temptation to vice.

Anyhow, in response to DoBA, I wrote:

My take on what’s going on: When you have such horribly low Sexual Market Value that most men find you repulsive, it makes a certain amount of self-gratifying sense to carelessly throw realistic expectations out the window and feed (heh) your ego as a dopamine substitute.

And that’s why you see the perverse phenomenon of so many loser chicks flaunting an unrealistic checklist in men when they themselves have little to offer. It’s not about the men; it’s about them. Their egos must be salvaged before their love lives can be rescued.

Remember, too, that once a girl passes a threshold of sexual inactivity (on average, three to six months), she slips more easily into quasi-involuntary celibacy (quasi, because there is always a loser who will dump a five second fuck in a low SMV girl if she’s willing to swallow (heh) her pride) than a man would. Women are built like worker bees in that respect; once acclimated to celibacy and the dull drone of useless paper-pushing office life, they forget the joys sexual abandon. Or, perhaps, rather than forget, they simply don’t experience the same vital urgency to renew sexual relief the way men do. Consequently, it’s easier for a woman in asexual frigidity mode to maintain a facade of high standards that she must know on a subconscious level will never get her sex and commitment, or even a second date, from the men she wants.

And this phenomenon is more acute amongst fat chicks who were once thin. They fondly recall what it was like to be pursued by men, to turn away those who didn’t meet their expectations, and to experience the thrill of men attempting to satisfy their demands, doing it all for the top-notch nookie. But now, as a fatty (or a cougar or a single mom or an acid burn victim), the men they find desirable shun them and, adding insult to injury, the beta males who once lacked the confidence to approach now hit on them with a grating expectation of success.

What’s a put-upon woman to do? Right. Lie to herself. Happy feelings on the cheap. Better yet, surround herself with yenta friends who will abet her self-delusions.

But neither of the quotes above are the comment of the week. That honor belongs to “uh”, who replied to both of us:

There’s not enough neurochemical payoff for a [fat] woman in admitting the truth to herself if the choice is between that and easy self-affirmation. Given that choice, which may be thought of as a false consciousness imposed/reinforced from above (media), and laterally (other women), the woman becomes alienated from true acceptance of herself as a relational being and enters the narrow straits of denial. Neurochemically this almost resembles the pathway of cigarette addiction: cheap self-affirmation gives quick temporary rewards necessitated only by the presence of the toxin — the subnarrative itself.

This is a concise and penetrating explanation of the common female frailty herein known as Absurd Standards Syndrome (ASS). Insulated by the PC media, glam mags, academia, beta suckups and female friends, women have lost touch with their rank relative to other women and are thus finding it easy to slip into a comfortable bubble of self-delusion. Similar to cigarette addiction, the quick dopamine fix — necessitated by the subnarrative, as uh puts it — trumps the harsher acceptance of personal flaws that must be remedied by willpower and self-control (or simply accommodated) to achieve longer term and more fulfilling rewards, or to come to terms in a dignified manner with one’s diminution of mate choice. This subnarrative toxin, an effluvium of pretty lies, perpetuated by feminists, groupthink apparatchiks and fat acceptors alike, is the wicked poison that courses through the sludgy veins of the Western woman, corroding her from the inside out until she is a mere husk of the feminine ideal that once held sway over the hearts of men. Well done, uh.

Men — particularly internet nerds without a hope of meeting a woman in real life — suffer from this syndrome as well, but not nearly to the same degree that it perplexes women. As has been explained before on this blog, the reason ASS afflicts women more than men is because men, as the chosen sex, have to be more in touch with reality to get what they want in the dating market. A deluded man is quickly a celibate man. A woman in her prime, on the other hand, can stand around looking good, ignorant of the rules of mate choice reality, and men will hit on her… until reality rudely turns against her.

Interestingly, uh’s comment has parallels with the denial inherent in economists’ inability to grasp that the drive for relative status is a bigger motivator of human behavior than the urge to maximize utility. (Want to watch a libertardian squirm? Bring up the subject of status jockeying.) Economists, stuck in the narrow straits of the rational actor (their toxic subnarrative), have become alienated from the commonsensical wisdom that humans are relational beings who sometimes do seemingly inexplicable things just to gain status points over a neighbor. Like fat chicks on an ego-assuaging bender, economists in thrall to their theories have forsaken the long hard look at human nature in favor of the quick pleasure fix of aggregate demand and open borders circle jerk pontificating.

The impetus for our economic decisions is not so far removed from the mechanism guiding our mating decisions. Quite the contrary; economics is servant to sexuality — the one market to rule them all.

Solution: people of good (and not so good) intent must strike at the heart of the toxic subnarratives, killing them and salting the neuronal fields in which they grow, unafraid of the certain immune response it will spastically trigger, before the human psyche (and body) can be healed. The way to kill the subnarratives is one this blog has stressed countless times, and which we here happily, some might say sadistically, pursue — The Three Rs of human psychological manipulation:

Reframe.
Reject.
Ridicule.

Progress will be slow at first, but momentum will inevitably build. It only takes 10% of a population holding an unshakable belief to cause that belief to be adopted by the majority of the society. Your goal of spreading better ideas is not as out of reach as you imagine. Alinsky leftists and ideological warriors have known this fact about group dynamics for generations. It’s time for you to know it too.

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The Modren Man

The only thing this picture is missing that would make it the absolute perfect representation of the de-balled and de-souled modern SWPL man-lite is a “vibrant” infant tucked into the fat bride’s meatloaf arm.

secret secret, i’ve got a secret!

You might call this the 21st century Western equivalent of the drawing and quartering.

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Getting Fat Really Will Shorten Your Lifespan (And Your Sexspan)

Contrary to a previous study claiming that fatter people live longer than underweight people (a flawed study that was, not surprisingly, trumpeted by feminists, fatties and those who shudder at the thought of sexual market standards), a new study has concluded that fatness will shorten your lifespan:

While some past studies have shown that persons carrying a few extra pounds in their 70s live longer than their thinner counterparts, a new study that measured subjects’ weight at multiple points over a longer period of time reveals the opposite.

Research from Adventist Health Studies recently published in the Journal of the American Geriatrics Society showed that men over 75 with a body mass index (BMI) greater than 22.3 had a 3.7-year shorter life expectancy, and women over 75 with a BMI greater than 27.4 had a 2.1-year shorter life expectancy. Generally, a BMI between 18.5 and 24.9 is considered normal weight, and a BMI of 25 to 29.9 is considered overweight. A BMI of 30 or more is considered obese.

A good rule of thumb to take into consideration when trawling scientific studies is that the more a study’s results contradict common sense, the likelier it is that there was some flaw in experimental procedure. It’s not OK to plump up as you get older; you should be striving to maintain your youthful weight for your whole life. Paleo eating and regular exercise of the short burst variety (weightlifting and wind sprints) will help you in your goal. For those who think this is impossible, you only have to look at modern day hunter gatherer tribes. In those, the elderly (that is, the few who avoid getting murdered or mauled to death) stay thin and sinewy right up until the end.

In related news, getting fat is much worse for a woman’s sex and love life than it is for a man’s. (Paging that idiot commenter who thought he was being smartly impartial with his heavy-handed “reminders” that women don’t like all the fat men, either. Well, the facts suggest otherwise, schnerdling.)

Men are more concerned with their partner’s body type than women but they also seem to value family more highly, according to a new survey released on Tuesday.

Nearly half of men questioned in the poll of 70,000 people said they would ditch a partner who gained weight, compared to only 20 percent of women.

Two-third of men also said they had fantasized about their partner’s friends, while only one-third of women had done so.

Ladeez, if you want to keep your man interested in you, you have to stay sexy and slender. Men, the findings (and general life observations) show that getting fatter won’t hurt your love life very much. Don’t push it, though. Few people who aren’t freak fetishists are sexually aroused by morbid obesity.

Another valuable CH lesson, free of charge!

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Marilyn Monroe Was Skinny

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!

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This Is What A Feminist Looks Like

The beauties are back strutting their stuff on the slut walk. Yeah, they do their thunderous waddle on the slut walk:

I have news for this deluded bog creature. Sexy fattie is an oxymoron (emphasis on both the ox and moron). Interestingly, slutty fattie is not.

Don’t bother trying to do pickup at a slut walk. You will rarely see a hot babe at one of these parades of misfits, and that’s not because she gets lost amongst the pillars of heaving blubber. You see, hot chicks, having high sexual market value, work hard to avoid being labeled a slut. The last thing they would want to do is associate their hottie hotness with a bunch of self-proclaimed sluts. A hot chick has no trouble getting the attention of alpha males, so she doesn’t need to advertise her sexual openness to lure men. In fact, she prefers to do just the opposite: play coy and project an aura of discriminating prudery so that the man who lands her feels she is a worthwhile long term investment.

Fatties, cougars and fuglies, in contrast, take the opposite tack. They know that they won’t be turning men’s heads, so they rely on signaling their sexual promiscuity to capture some horny man with no other options. Advertising that they are an easy lay is a strategy that enables them to compete with better looking girls. Of course, it’s a myopic strategy, because most men who aren’t total losers will bolt as soon as they bust their nuts in the bloated vagina vortex of one of these wildebeests. But in the EEA (environment of evolutionary adaptation), an ugly broad needed to get sperm, and fertilization took priority over pair bonding.

There is also the self-soothing psychological angle at work here. Beasts who love to brag about their sluttiness aren’t convincing others so much as they are convincing themselves of their imaginary desirability. A grrlpower slut walk is just the medicine for a lonely loser girl who’s spent one too many nights with her purple saguaro, which now vibrates in fear. She can bellow at the top of her lungs along with the rest of the sideshow freaks what a DYNAMIC and MAGNETIC piece of ass she is, and for that brief moment — that sweet afternoon escape on the streets of the city — she believes it, and her happiness swells as she fondly misremembers all those depressing, sloppy one night stands as some sort of twisted proof of her femininity and sexiness.

This is the key to defeating feminism: separate the hotties from the uglies. Make it known in no uncertain terms that feminists are ugly, inside and out, and men are repulsed by them, and the hot chicks will feel burning shame and embarrassment to be connected with the dykes, rejects, careerist shrikes and spinsters who fuel the rancid ideology.

There’s nothing like a threat to the ol’ SMV to get a person to sit up and take notice.

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Why European Girls Stay Thin

The Village Voice has an article about fatty fuckers. These are the tiny minority of weirdos who like to fuck waddling land whales.

Here’s a pic to get you in the right frame of mind:

Read the whole article if you want to toss up your lunch. Ex:

Entries happily, ravenously, robustly referenced double bellies, back rolls, and “big old ham thighs.” Feminine body shapes were compared to pears, apples, and one calabash squash; their weights spanned from 180 pounds to over 500. “Big Fat Sexy Kitty,” a young woman who described herself as five feet tall and 260 pounds, wrote in: “I want fat sex. I want my jiggly bits rubbed and squished and fondled sexually.”

In person at the East Village’s Cafe Orlin, Dan explains that, yes, he likes round bellies. He likes double chins. He likes breasts the size of his head. He loves flabby biceps. “Fat upper arms are awesome. I would almost say I’m an arms guy,” he says, not by any means whispering. “I didn’t know that they would be that soft. I, like, fell asleep on a girl’s arm once. I was like, ‘Wow.’ ”

Dan, the fatty fucking guy they profile in the article, is quoted in this paragraph:

Too lazy to consider himself an activist, but cocky enough to be the mouthy weakling “who would be getting my neck rung by the bully and still saying shit,” Dan is ego-driven enough to envision a greater purpose. “Society sucks, and society says you need male validation. If you’re trying to say fat is attractive, as a lot of women out there are, it helps to find legitimate people who find this attractive.” Or, as he put it more bluntly on his Facebook page, after contributing two pro-fat pieces to lady blog The Hairpin, “I write about my preference for fat women in hopes that other men who share my preference will make themselves known so they’ll stop being little ballsacks and let the millions of fat women in this country find them.”

Riiiiight… society is telling men to get wood for slender babes. Yep, it’s that omnipotent society, pulling the strings of your penis, telling you when and when not to get an erection.

Hey, Dan, He who fucks gargantuan gelatinous cubes — maybe the reason millions of fat women in this country can’t find men to love them is because… oh, I don’t know… most men find fat women sexually repulsive? Not a sermon, just a thought.

Oh, but the fat chicks and their fatty fucking weirdo enablers just love to accuse the 99% of normal men who prefer thin hotties of lacking the courage to come out of the fatty fucker closet. Now where have we heard that insipid line of argument before? ooOOOOga!

In other words, Guys Who Like Fat Chicks are not make-believe. “We’re out there.”

So are sheep fuckers and necrophiliacs.

But the money quote part of this article is about a fat chick’s recollections of her time in Spain:

“There aren’t many fat girls in Spain,” reports Charlotte, who spent six months as an exchange student there in 2006. Back then, she weighed 425, and she claims that the department organizers at her Northeastern women’s college tried to dissuade her from going abroad because she was “too big.” She balked and went anyway, though she admits European daily life was far more taxing: The public bathrooms were “itty-bitty,” the online clothes retailers she frequents didn’t service Spain (Lane Bryant’s sizes are too small for her), and walking was the primary method of transportation. “Anytime I would walk down the street, people would stare at me like I was a circus sideshow. Here, people kind of like glance out of their eyes, but there people would stop and stare as I walked by.”

One time in Spain, an old woman spotted Charlotte in public, stopped abruptly, and crossed herself. “Like I was Satan.”

And there you have it: one of the main reasons why European girls stay thin. It’s the shaming, stupid.

But of course, it’s not just the shaming. People change for the better when the carrot and the stick are employed simultaneously.

After walking four miles a day overseas, Charlotte lost 75 pounds, which she gained back upon return.

In Europe, a smaller, densely populated continent, you can’t just ensconce your fat ass in a car everywhere you go. You have to get up and walk. And walking leads to weight loss, which leads to thinness and better sex with higher quality partners. This is why it’s so important to live in a city with a high walkability index. Your body and your love life will thank you. Plus, it’s a lot easier to meet girls on the sidewalk when you’re walking instead of craning your neck outside a car window.

Leftie outlets like the Village Voice love writing about the deviants of society, because their writers probably identify with them. But make no mistake… despite the drumbeat by equalists to normalize these fetishistic freaks, they are, and will remain, outcasts. So, no, Dan, “we’re” not out there. Rather, you’re out there. Be happy about it. You’ll never have a hard time meeting a desperate slovenly mound of blubber.

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