Who’s The Unlucky Guy?

I don’t know what’s more omega: getting married to this loudmouthed dirigible, or wanking it alone as a celibate dropout.

As long as she doesn’t feel like a “plus size girl”, it’s all good. Poor hamster has to carry such a burden. Look at his wee legs shake.

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Brits Voted Ugliest Women In The World

Well, no surprise here. Have you seen Brit chicks lately? Fuggin fat, pasty, unfeminine, alcoholic tubs. An empire is no better than the aggregate beauty of its women, and an empire wheezing its last breath is characterised by this:

“Oh but she has such a pretty face”… for me to render into soap!

It isn’t just the fatness and ugliness (but I repeat myself) that is repugnant, but the exultation of the depredations visited upon the female form to a moral and aesthetic imperative. Such weak-minded thinking is best observed in this comment left by a reader to the article:

How thoroughly predictable to see a story about drunken and anti-social Chav behaviour twisted as usual into being all about appearance – and in particular weight and size. There are plenty of quiet, well-behaved bigger women who never touch a drop let alone would consider behaving in a loud and obnoxious manner, just as a good proportion (probably the majority, in fact) of those falling out of nightclubs vomiting and fighting the police are thin, but don’t let that get in the way of yet another opportunity to demonise and stereotype fat people.

Fatness is a leading indicator of character deficiency. Fat apologists are heralds of ugliness, lies, loneliness and death. The Chav and The Chunky and their watery-eyed advocates are nothing less than the degenerate bilge of an enfeebled, dying society predictably coughing up one rationalization and excuse after another for its self-inflicted failures and loss of nativist pride.

Meanwhile, America’s models are getting manlier-looking by the day while her SWPL men get womanlier and her lower classes get fatter. In that international survey linked above, America was voted to have the second ugliest women, followed closely by German frauleins.

Which brings us to….

Maxim #102: The hottest babes will not be found in prosperous countries, but in countries on the verge of prosperity. The world’s ugliest women will continue to be found in backward primitive societies.

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My Ex-Girlfriend Was A Beauty Pageant Winner

I use the photo routine to display higher value via preselection to a girl I’m gaming. I’ll pull out the camera to show a girl pics of my last vacation, and stuffed in the middle of beach shots and party shots there will be semi-erotic photos of hot ex-girlfriends and myself. I act like I’m surprised they are there.

“Woops, let’s just skip right over that. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Naturally, this will intrigue my target, even though she will never say so aloud. But the seed of tingles will have been planted.

My favorite “random” photo of an ex is the beauty pageant winner I used to date. I have a pic of her in her gown and winner’s sash. When girls see that, my mate value rockets through the roof. To avoid overwhelming the girl, I usually downplay it by explaining that beauty pageant winners are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yeah, you’d think this is every man’s dream, to date a beauty pageant winner. But it’s not what it’s cracked up to be. They have huge egos and think the world owes them something. But then they’re also really insecure about their looks. They are always fishing for compliments. “Does my ass look fat in this?” It’s enough to drive a man crazy! They have body conscious issues, too. Taking my ex out to dinner was an ordeal. She was so particular about what she ate, and how much of it she ate. Then afterwards, to alleviate the guilt, she would say “It’s ok, because I know you love me for me.”

Since I know you’re curious, here is a pic of my beauty pageant winner ex-girlfriend:

She’s the second from the left. I picked the dress out for her. It really flatters her Rubenesque curves.

So far, I haven’t yet closed the deal using the beauty pageant winner ex-girlfriend photo routine, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. I mean, how much more socially proofed can a man get? I think girls are just intimidated by the quality of woman I’m used to getting.

******

Defining deviancy down.

The rabid cultural compulsion to make the deviant normal has got to be one of the signal developments of an empire in decline. When historians look back on the once-great USA twenty years from now, wondering why the country fell into ruin and disrepute, the Miss Plus America pageant will have to figure prominently in the list of peculiarities heralding the fall from grace.

The elevation of the deviant (gay marriage), the ugly (fat chicks), the expedient (cheap peasant labor), the primitive (Univision), the unwise (libertarianism) and the crass (Chelsea “choppers” Clinton’s lavish recession-era wedding) to exalted status and dressed in the poison garnish of equalism are sure signs of the last days of a superpower wheezing its final raspy breaths, losing confidence in itself and its place in the world. Perhaps it is inevitable, like the turning of seasons. Humans — or maybe more specifically Northwest Europeans — can’t tolerate prosperity for long before they itch to undermine the labors of their ancestors and the philosophies bequeathed them by their betters. Even if inevitable, it’s still sad. The Chateau has a small, engraved motto nailed just above the wrought-iron lion knocker on its heavy oak doors.

When the beautiful
yields to the ugly
then shall lies
in the guise of truth
plant its flag of victory

I’ll do my part to save America from dribbling its tepid beta spooge ignominiously down the wide load ass crevasse of self-satisfied fat chicks by mocking their fatness cruelly at every opportunity. Dudes of America, now it’s your turn to contribute to the war effort. Punish our women for their fat ways. Don’t flirt with them. Refuse to date them. Stop fucking them. And for fuck’s sake, stop having kids by them. Failing this, you will only continue feeding the beast, literally and figuratively. Have some fucking standards. What are you, animals, rutting with anything that moves? Our nation of fat women must know, absolutely MUST understand in no uncertain terms, that their fatness is costing them a chance at love and sex.

There

must

be

consequences.

If on the other hand, you don’t have a problem sticking your dick in an undulating walrus hide, then there is no hope left for beauty in America. As long as there are Miss Plus America pageants, East Europe shines like a beacon on the horizon for ex-patriots like myself. I don’t want to live in a country where women think it’s OK to bloat into whales, *and* to celebrate their whaleness with princess crowns and sashes like it’s some sort of hard-won accomplishment.

Dante had the ninth circle all wrong. It’s sitting at the bottom of a bowl of pork rinds.

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Even Blind Men Prefer The Optimal 0.7 Waist-To-Hip Ratio

Another scientific experiment demonstrates that beauty is not in the eye of the beholder. Or, in this case, not even in the blind eye of the beholder. Fat feminists weep bitter tears. Naomi Wolf tosses her useless credentials in the garbage. Beauty is, as I’ve been saying since day 1 on this blog, universal and objective. Men pretty much desire the same shape and weight of women around the world.

The NY0.98WHRTimes has an article about a Dutch psychologist who drove around the country in a van with two female mannequins with adjustable waist to hip ratios. (Hat tip: Cannon’s Canon.) He stopped at the residences of blind men and had them fondle the mannequins with their hands (no walking sticks allowed).

The headless mannequins, which Karremans bought, he told me recently, “on the Dutch version of Craigslist,” have adjustable waists and hips, and the researchers set each body differently, so that one had a waist-to-hip ratio of 0.7 and the other of 0.84. Based on a range of studies of male preferences done by other scientists, Karremans chose the lower ratio as an ideal, a slim yet curvy paragon, at least among Western populations. The higher ratio, by contrast, doesn’t represent obesity, just a fullness that falls close to the average woman’s shape.

The study involved men who had been sightless from birth. The idea was that the bombardment of visual media — of models on billboards and actresses on television and porn stars online — which may be so powerful and even dominant in molding desire, couldn’t have had any direct effect on these men, who emerged from the womb into a congenital dark. Would their tastes in women’s bodies match those of men who could see? How would their preferences reflect on the roles of nature and nurture, on the influence of evolution and the impact of experience, in forming our psyches?

[…] Karremans sent his mannequins around the Netherlands. The blind stood before them; they were told to touch the women, to focus their hands on the waists and hips. The breasts on both figures were the same, in case the men reached too high. The men extended their arms; they ran their hands over the region. Then they scored the attractiveness of the bodies. Karremans had a hunch, he told me, that their ratings wouldn’t match those of the sighted men he used as controls, half of them blindfolded so that they, too, would be judging by feel. It seemed likely, he said, that visual culture would play an overwhelming part in creating the outlines of lust. And though the blind had almost surely grown up hearing attractiveness described, perhaps even in terms of hourglass shapes, it was improbable, he writes in his forthcoming journal paper, that they had heard descriptions amounting to, “The more hourglass shaped, the more attractive,” which would be necessary to favor the curvier mannequin over the figure that was only somewhat less so.

[…] But, with some statistically insignificant variation, the scores of the blind matched those of the sighted. Both groups preferred the more pronounced sweep from waist to hip. One possible explanation emphasizes the sense of smell — though the mannequins wore no perfume. By this line of thinking, certain ratios of hormones and their metabolites in the female body are associated with biological advantage, as well as with particular pheromonal scents and low W.H.R.’s. The male begins life wired, through the influence of evolution, to favor these odors and then learns, mostly through unconscious experience, to connect the cues of smell to the proportions of waist and hip. He makes this connection through sight if he can see and by touch if he can’t.

The case against the “beauty is subjective and therefore perception of it by randy men is malleable; so rejoice!, hope remains that fat feminist craps and aging broads can find love just as easily as hot, slender 21 year old babes” just gets stronger with each experiment. But I’m sure the pretty lie platoon will find a way to dismiss this study. Maybe they’ll accuse men blind since birth of being influenced by patriarchal norms in Braille.

The author of the article throws the obligatory bone to the femdork crowd, but it’s a weak, brittle bone indeed:

The explanation may be more elusive than this simple logic. And the study’s implications about nature and nurture are far from straightforward. Karremans’s findings don’t rule out the sway of culture, not at all. If experience played no role in etching our preferences, there would be scarcely any diversity of lust; we would all be drawn to the same forms.

False inference. There could certainly continue to be “diversity of lust” without experience playing any role. For instance, people may be genetically primed from birth to appreciate better the beauty of others of their own race. Or there may be a hardwired preference for hair color. If the last twenty years of psychosocial research shows us anything, it’s that you’d be on firmer ground biasing hypotheses in favor of the genetic cause of behavior instead of the cultural conditioning cause.

One nuance in the study’s data points to this complexity: sighted and blind men both strongly favored the mannequin with the lower W.H.R., but this slimmer-waisted body received especially high scores from the men with sight, maybe because a life spent amid cultural signals compounds the work of evolution. Still, the gropings of Karremans’s blind offer a glimpse into the ancestral depths of our desires.

Or it could be that touching an optimal 0.7 WHR woman combined with seeing a 0.7 WHR woman produces a positive feedback loop that jacks up the “OMG I’m so horny!” limbic system reflex in men. I like banging in the dark, but when the lights are on and I can see the pussy lips parting in response to my meaty intrusion, the pleasure is magnified. If I was handed a checklist during sex, I’d score my lover higher while under the visual influence of glistening, crimson labia.

It’s really amazing when you stop to think about it that blind men who have never once in their lives seen a female body still rate as most attractive the same 0.7 WHR female body type as do normally sighted men. The inborn biological basis of sexual desire is so fundamental — so resistant to cultural influence — that every sense is brought into play in ensuring that men make the right choice for the propagation of their genes; which, in nearly all cases, is going to result in men choosing the same slender babe archetype when such a choice is possible, no matter where in the world a man lives or how many times his mom embarrassed him in front of his friends when he was a teenager. I’ve no doubt that a blind and deaf man who has lost his hands will compensate with a bloodhound’s nose for sniffing out a 0.7 WHR from twelve parsecs.

This blog post brought to you by Tick Tock, Inc., in collaboration with generous funding from the What Part Of No Fat Chicks Don’t You Understand Foundation.

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Fat Craps Give Michelle Obama Flak For Telling Uncomfortable Truth

Why is Michelle Obama catching flak for saying that she’s careful about what she feeds her kids?

“We went to our pediatrician all the time,” Obama said. “I thought my kids were perfect — they are and always will be — but he [the doctor] warned that he was concerned that something was getting off balance.”

“I didn’t see the changes. And that’s also part of the problem, or part of the challenge. It’s often hard to see changes in your own kids when you’re living with them day in and day out,” she added. “But we often simply don’t realize that those kids are our kids, and our kids could be in danger of becoming obese. We always think that only happens to someone else’s kid — and I was in that position.”

Obama said the doctor suggested she first look at her daughters’ body mass index (BMI). The minor changes she subsequently made in their daily habits, Obama said, made all the difference.

Sounds perfectly reasonable. What could possibly offend about a mother making sure her kids don’t pig out on bad food and bloat up into something hideous? Heh. Never underestimate the lengths to which fat shits will waddle away from the truth with their porky sausage fingers stuck in their ears.

Some charge that Obama’s comments may be perceived as a focus on weight and dieting, which sends the wrong message to the public. The first lady should be discussing behavioral change, not weight loss, said Laura Collins Lyster-Mensh, an eating disorder activist and executive director of Families Empowered and Supporting Treatment of Disorder (F.E.A.S.T.).

“We’ve confused health and weight in a way that’s very confusing for children and very confusing for parents,” Lyster-Mensh said. “When we speak publicly about putting our children on a diet, we start to get into weight stigma and confusing the message to families.”

Hey lardulous, weight stigma is a GOOD THING. In fact, many stigmas are good things when they encourage people to feel bad about their wretched conditions and do something to improve themselves. For instance, right now I’m stigmatizing you as a fat, smelly lesbian. Luckily, you can do something about the first two problems.

The focus on obesity, Lyster-Mensh said, turns this into an issue of appearances, which does not bode well for children, especially girls.

Point one: Appearance matters. It is not a social construct that can be willed or legislated away. Cruel human judgment of others based on appearance is an eternal reality of living in this dimension. You may not like it, but reality is never gonna bend to accommodate your tender feelings, so either get with the program and shape up or sink into a silo of snickers bars ticking down the useless remaining years of your fat, foreshortened life. Point two: Never take seriously a woman with a hyphenated multiplicity of surnames.

“There is simply no reason to be pushing children into weight reduction diets and that’s the message parents out there get,” Lyster-Mensh said. “Dieting is a gateway drug to eating disorders for those with a biological predisposition to eating disorders.”

It’s an impressive feat to pack so much self delusion into one quote, but this banshee has managed it. She sounds like the type of nutjob who thinks porn is a gateway drug to serial killing. One thing we do know for sure, though — crashing the buffet table is a gateway drug to ugly cottage cheesy thighs and neck rolls. If you’re going to do gateway drugs, at least stick with the drugs that not only make you feel good, but look good as well.

The president then spoke about what he and the first lady did to balance their daughters’ diet, and the impact “was so significant that the next time we visited our pediatrician he was amazed.”

Even then, critics panned the president for commenting on the weight of Sasha, who is now 8 years old.

A lot of the little Latino kids that live in DC are roly poly beachballs. I’ve seen toddlers who looked like they swallowed a keg. Starch bombs! Early intervention is always best.

Some say parents talking about their daughters’ weight can have a harmful impact on young girls.

What’s more harmful to young girls — a) telling them to watch what they eat so they don’t get fat, or b) sitting idly by as they do get fat? Of the two groups of girls (A and B) which group is more likely to marry well, have healthy children, and generally be happier about their lot in life?

“One of the things I’ve noticed is that a lot of girls develop an eating disorder because they don’t want criticism from their parents,” said Jeanne Sager, a reporter who blogs on parenting Web site babble.com, and who, herself, suffered from an eating disorder.

Congratulations, lawyers, you’ve been supplanted! “Reporters” are the new filth of the universe. Their rancid wrongheaded ideology has so warped their thinking that the institution of journalism is now neck deep in the choking pigshit of postmodern platitudes and perpetual lies.

“As a public figure, I think Mrs. Obama wanted people to be able to relate to her experiences and I’m sure she was unaware… that some of those messages could be taken in an unhealthy way,” Lyster-Mensh said. “I am not a critic of the Obamas’ approach to healthy behavior with their kids. I am concerned about weight-based language because it’s demonstrably, scientifically not helpful.”

“Weight-based language”. It just gets better and better. If you scold your kid for getting an F in algebra, is that “merit-based language”? What about breaking and entering? “Law-based language”? Pissing in your face? “Manners-based language”? Looks to me like Michelle Obama is being a good mother, and that’s what really chafes your dingelberried hippo hide.

Now, Michelle, hon, babe. You need to apply your good sense to your own super supple backside. That purple SOTU dress was not flattering. Double wide? 100% true.

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Which Is Harder On A Woman’s Looks: Fat Or Aging?

The pursuit of deep philosophical inquiry is a heritage of the West. This post continues in that noble tradition.

For purposes of comparison we begin our thought experiment with two slender (~ BMI 19) 20 year old women of above average attractiveness. They are both at the peak of their beauty. Which will steal their most valuable asset the quickest and render them sexually worthless — the horrors of aging or the disfigurement of obesity? Let’s find out!

Girl A is our gluttonous subject. Boy, does she like food. Recently, her boyfriend got complacent with the regular sex and regressed to a house trained beta, prompting her to fill the emptiness in her vaj-shaped soul with Krispy Kreme donuts.

Girl B is our control. She has good eating and exercise habits (read: primal diet. not a vegetarian. lifts weights. doesn’t run marathons.) and stays slim. The only force that takes a toll on her beauty is aging, which happens to everyone. Assuming average genetics, she will age about as fast as the typical woman, meaning a slow decline up to 30, then a rapid acceleration to the wall between 30 and 40, followed by an afterburner turbocharge at the point of impact sometime around age 45, after which she will be invisible to all men except the most desperate herb dregs.

We begin the experiment. There are 3500 calories in a pound of body fat, and 200 calories in a Krispy Kreme original glazed donut. Girl A goes on a donut bender and eats 1.05 Krispy Kreme donuts per week per year. 1.05 Krispy Kreme donuts per week doesn’t sound like much, does it ladies? Keep reading. She does not substitute smaller portions in her other meals or increased physical activity to counterbalance the extra calories from the donuts. At this rate of donut consumption, Girl A adds 5 pounds of unsightly fat to her frame every year. Keep in mind, too, that Girl A is aging as well as getting larger.

Meanwhile, our control, Girl B, has been suffering the indignity of aging without her even knowing it for the first five years or so after age 20. But unseen at the molecular level, her body is breaking down. From age 20 to 21, no one will really notice a change, especially not her boyfriend who sees her every day. Only in the aggregate over blocks of a few years will an outward change become noticeable. From 20 to 25, her body remains tight and right, while her face sheds some of that exquisitely soft baby fat of her late teen years and becomes more chiseled, angular. At age 25, she is still near-peak in facial beauty, but subtle changes have taken hold; her skin no longer glows without artificial accentuation (ladies pinch, whores rouge) and her flesh has lost some gravity-defying firmness. She would not pass the quarter bounce off a Marine’s cot test, but her ass remains delightfully squeezeable.

Now we do the first set of comparisons.

• At one year in (21 years old) Girl A is five pounds heavier. Since she is young, the fat sits on her well. Her boyfriend notices the small weight gain, but his boner is largely unaffected. He continues fucking her joyfully, although his eye wanders a little more when they’re out in public together.
• At 21 years old, Girl B has aged one year. Superficially, no change in her beauty. Her boyfriend is none the wiser of the tragedy that will eventually befall his beloved.

What happens at age 25?

• At 25, Girl A has gained 25 pounds. Trouble brewing! Her boyfriend definitely notices her added padding, but mostly chooses to avoid confronting her about it, instead prefering the method of passive aggressive mutterings about other women’s skinniness, hoping that will spur her to get back in shape. He is beginning to regret spending 20K on that diamond engagement ring. His eye wanders a lot more now, he showers her with fewer compliments, and the frequency of their sex has dropped in half. He stays an hour later at work.
• At 25, Girl B has aged five years. Her face has become mature, having sloughed off the last remnants of teen years softness and firmness. A tiny hint of crows’ feet appears, along with a few dimples of cottage cheese where the bottom of the ass meets the hamstrings. She is attractive, but in a different, less feminine way now; her’s is the attractiveness of a strident hard-charger, piercing the air before her like a wedge of sharpened flesh when she walks down the street. Good exercise habits have delayed any major drooping of her ass. Her boyfriend still finds her hot, but familiarity and the ancient stirrings of his manly seed-spreading spirit have caused his eye to dilate with greater gusto when appreciating the delicacies of younger women.

On to age 30.

• At 30, Girl A is 50 pounds heavier. Oh my. She has formally left “chubby” and “pleasingly plump” euphemistic territory and entered the land of lardasses. The fat refuses to sit on her well; it hangs dolorously, it balloons insultingly. Her tits, while bigger, are also more pendulous, completely negating whatever benefit larger tits normally confer. Her boyfriend has stopped looking at her naked body entirely, and sex has dwindled to once a month with the lights off. She attempts to assuage her bruised ego by reigniting his passion with sex toys, lingerie, and pole dancing, but the effect on him is like that of watching a dog poop; sort of intriguing in its repulsiveness, and darkly humorous in the straining which accompanies the act. He has stopped giving her compliments or gifts, and forgets important dates, like her birthday. He stays at work two hours late. On the bright side, all that fat helps conceal the wrinkles normally associated with a woman turning 30.
• At 30, Girl B has aged ten years. She, like Girl A, has crossed a Rubicon. There was a quickening diminishment of her beauty from age 25 to 30, but during that time she at least could console herself that dim lighting, exercise, and makeup were sufficient to hide from the general public the horrors besieging her from every quadrant. She looked in the mirror and she could still say to herself, with eroding certainty, that she was a hot commodity. Her boyfriend mostly seemed to agree with her self-assessment. After all, he was still with her, despite a couple episodes of cheating and that unfortunate incident when she found the receipt for a cubic zirconia ring. He doesn’t compliment as much, their sex life has become a bit routine, and he works an hour later every day, but mostly things are good.

35.

• 35 years old. Girl A is 75 pounds over her 20 year old weight. She is a whale. Her boyfriend, having neither the courage nor the game to leave her for a sexier woman, sticks around out of a false sense of duty, and pity. Sex has stopped, except for those few times he’s so horny that he wakes her up with his dick in her mouth. She loves these times, as she imagines it shows he still desires her, but when she sucks him off and tries to guide his hardon down to her flabby distended pussy lips, his cock goes limp, quivering in fear. He has nightmares of her bloated labia attacking him, two roast beefs slapping him in the side of his head, over and over. As he no longer feels any urgency to please his fat girlfriend (he appealed to her lofty feminism and stated that marriage was a patriarchal conspiracy), he has regressed to a lesser beta, whacking off constantly to porn, throwing himself into his meaningless career, and playing video games til 3am. Girl A cries herself to sleep every night.
• At 35, Girl B is 15 years older than her peak beauty. The deterioration has begun in earnest. There is no more hiding the ravages of aging; makeup, exercise, yoga, and night vision goggles can’t stop her face from betraying her lost beauty. Crows’ feet and laugh lines are permanently embedded. Hollowness perpetually encircles her eyes. Her skin has become inelastic, and her ass, finally, after years of squats in the gym, droops resignedly, as if to say “You gave it your best shot, but I’m tired. Let me go.” Luckily, she is still thin, almost at the same weight she was at 20, and her boyfriend, though he cannot deny that younger women excite his member more vigorously than she does, still finds pleasure in boffing her. Sure, it isn’t the visceral pleasure it once was, but he gets off, and that’s a day’s pay. But much else has changed for the worse. Compliments have dropped off to the level of the boyfriend with the 25 year old fattie girlfriend. He used to surprise her with flowers and nights out on the town. Now he surprises her if he comes home from work on time. He has cheated with a much younger woman, but hides it. He feels no shame for his infidelity, only a compulsion to continue doing it.

40.

• Girl A is 100 pounds overweight. She is so disgusting to look at it arouses her loser boyfriend to physically strike at her in anger and hopelessness. She is having health problems, struggling to climb stairs or walk a few blocks. Her boyfriend refuses to go out in public with her; one time, when they were at the mall, he purposefully walked 20 paces ahead of her, and when a cute Banana Republic salesgirl asked him, when his fat wife was out of earshot, if he and his wife needed assistance, he, like the apostle Peter, denied his affiliation with her.
• Girl B is on the cusp of sexual worthlessness, and she knows it. Wrinkles adorn her face, dimples dot her flesh, gray streaks her hair. Depressingly, her areolae have grown to the size of small saucer plates. But she is thin, which puts her head and shoulders above 80% of women her age in attractiveness. She can continue denying the reality closing in on her like a ripper in the night, because older men, chained to fat wives and out of the running for younger women, eye her up like an oasis in the desert. When a man thinks he has a chance, he allows his arousal to reach a fever pitch. Her boyfriend, though, has finally given up pretending to be attracted to her. Sex has become perfunctory, a chore not much more pleasant than taking a good piss. He throws himself into his career, his genetic algorithm impelling him to amass status and resources for a trade up to a more fertile woman.

Conclusion

Fat is the boner killer. Five years into the experiment, at age 25, Girl A’s relationship has degraded to the point of hurting her pride as a woman, while Girl B continues enjoying the love and affection of her lover. At age 30, ten years on, both women suffer the indignities associated with losing sexual market value, but Girl A, at 50 pounds heavier, has hit the wall sooner, and harder, than Girl B. At 30, Girl A is sexually worthless, and unlove-able. Girl B remains sexually enticing, though less so than at age 20, but enough of her value remains that her boyfriend does not entertain leaving her to try his hand at an upgrade.

At age 35, Girl A has gone from bad to worse. She is not only unfuckable, she is unwatchable. Whatever other good she does in her life (feed the homeless, help the starving children in Africa) is overshadowed by her grotesque rolls of blubber. People avoid interacting with her for fear of contracting a loser virus. Meanwhile, Girl B continues getting sex from her boyfriend, if not love. People enjoy talking with her, though she can’t help but notice that men’s eyes don’t light up like they used to when she walks in a room with a low-cut blouse and a thigh-revealing skirt.

At 40 it’s all over for Girl A. She is ballast on society. If she died, no one would miss her.

At 40, Girl B has accepted that the greatest source of her power, and hence, her happiness, is gone — her beauty teases with hints of a former loveliness, but that’s all it is; a tease. The men she finds most desirable don’t even see her. The men she sorta finds attractive are barely moved in her presence. The men she used to find unattractive and ignore she now talks and flirts with unabashedly, and only after much effort on her part does she get nibbles of sexual interest from some of these men. But worst of all, the absolute bottom of the barrel men hit on her relentlessly, like they never used to do, and this depresses her mightily. Girl B, lonely from the inattention of her boyfriend/husband, seeks an affair. To accomplish this, she has learned the art of the coquettish cougar pawing, whereby much skin is displayed and all coyness is tossed out the window.

What we have learned from this thought experiment is that fat hastens the day of reckoning by about fifteen years. So if you are a young fat chick, lose the weight pronto, cause you’re throwing away the best years of your life.

My advice to the ladies: Stay slender, and stay 21. Then you, too, can enjoy relationship exactness and complementarity!

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The Romans Didn’t Like Fat Chicks Either

More evidence that thin has always been in. (Hat tip: Reader SB7.) The fourth century Romans of the Villa Romana del Casale and the surrounding town of Platia created mosaics of slender babes well within the optimal 17 – 23 BMI range frolicking in bikinis while playing outdoor games and generally looking cute.

Not a BBW or chubster in sight!

I feel the spirit of Dr. Seuss move me.

Do you like
chicks shaped like ham?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.

Would you like them
now or then?

I would not like them
now or then.
I would not like them ever again.

I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Would you like them in your bed?
Would you like them giving head?

I do not like them
in my bed.
I do not like them
giving head.
I do not like them
now or then.
I do not like them
ever again.
I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.
I do not like them,
Sam-I-am.

Would you eat them
in their box?
Would you poke them
with your cox?

Not in their box.
Not with my cox.
Not in my bed.
Not giving head.
I would not poke them
here or there.
I would not poke them anywhere.
I would not poke chicks made of ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

I’ll be in all zee veek!

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