When Sex Advice Get Silly. Or Just Wrong.

I've made it no secret that I'm not a huge fan of Cosmo's sex and relationship tips.  I mostly find them absolutely ridiculous.  I mean, there have been whole articles written on just how bad their tips are.  I should assume he's cheating if he's whistling?  Oh, really?  Gee.  And here I thought it was more sane to just assume he had a good day.  Give him a bit of a man-parts massage when I know he's had a terrible day?  Yeah, in our house that would end with him saying, "Did I not just tell you how horrible my day has been?  Not interested."  Lower your voice when talking to him on the phone?  OK, I'm not sure if they mean volume or if they want you to drop suddenly into bass, but either way he'd most likely say, "What?  What?  I can't understand what you're saying.  Do you have a cold?"  And let's not forget that one fellatio book that I hated with a fiery passion also happened to be written by a woman that also writes for Cosmo.

A few days ago I ran into a Cosmo article that someone had tweeted about.  I had a few spare minutes, so I thought why not.  I've been trying to find the link again so you can see the article for yourself, but I can't seem to find it.  I honestly don't even remember what the whole point of the article was, but I do remember the part that sent me into a full rage and made me forget about everything else the author was saying.  She said men find it hot when a woman gags and gets teary eyed during oral sex.

Not a few men.

Not some men.

Not some men, sometimes.

Not even most men, sometimes.

Just men.  Men find it hot.

First off, I hate generalizations like this.  So of course, I was more than skeptical, so I asked Husband if he thought that was hot.  It seemed to me that it's more of a porn act, and as we all know, porn is not real life.

"Do you think it's hot if a woman gags?" I asked.

"What, you mean like in porn?"

"No, in general."

"No."

"Not ever?" I pressed.  I wanted a full, honest answer.

"Not ever.  If you gagged, I would think something is wrong."

I'm kind of with him on this.  I mean, I kind of imagine I would end up looking like I had the flu.  Not sexy.

Now, don't get me wrong.  Some women do enjoy gagging.  Some men enjoy seeing it.  But generalizations in sexual advice can be downright dangerous.  There should have at least been a "some" in there.  It would be easy to change it to, say, "Some men find it hot, so if you're into it, it may be worth discussing."

I did a little bit of casual research on the subject to see what I could turn up.  Do you know what I found?  Get ready for a shock: It was a mixed bag.  Some liked it, some didn't.  Oh, that wasn't shocking and was kind of obvious?  Yes.  Yes, it was.  So what's with the generalization?  Good question.

I now picture a young woman thinking she has to gag to please her partner because she's sure men find it hot.  Cosmo said so.  Like she would be doing it wrong if she didn't, no matter if she didn't want to.  And that makes me very sad.  Or, a man thinking that he should find it hot, even if he doesn't.  Also, very sad.

So what's a couple to do?  You could start by, oh, I don't know...talking to each other?  And probably not rely on magazines like this for sex advice.

So, having sex every day is news?

It seems that about every 6 months to a year a blogger makes big news by doing one thing: pledging to have sex every day for a certain amount of time.  People go nuts over these stories.  Now, if you've been paying attention, you know that I personally feel that having an active sex life is really important in relationship health, but not being a sex therapist or educator, I can't really say anything with any authority.  All I can say is that Husband and I are super cranky if we go without sex too long, and are generally happy people if we are going at it often.  Friends of ours that are having...marital problems is too strong a term.  Let's say they are easily irritated with each other.  We've noticed those friends often have a very infrequent or nearly non-existent sex life.  But which came first?  Is not having sex leading to irritability, or is irritability leading to not having sex?  Or are they completely unrelated?  I have no idea and wouldn't even venture a guess.  All we know is a good roll in the hay (or lack of it) affects us (Husband and me).

Once upon a time, we tried the whole sex for a year thing, really just so we could say that we did it.  We quit because we have sex almost every day anyway, sometimes twice a day, but knowing we had to felt too much like work and not enough like joy.  And then we got to wondering, for the sake of the experiment, what counts as sex.  Vaginal intercourse?  Oral sex?  Any sort of penetration?  Does one or more of us have to orgasm for it to count?  We sort of figured that since we have sex almost every day anyway, this experiment wasn't worth the frustration it was giving us.

All of this brings me back around to my main point.  Since we have sex almost daily, I'm always surprised when I see yet another blogger in the news pledging to have sex every day for a month, year, or other period of time.  After the latest one (which I admit was actually partially about body image, so there was a whole new dimension to the experiment that I fully applaud), I looked at Husband and asked him point blank why this is news (the sex every day part.  Not the body image part).  Doesn't every healthy married couple have lots and lots of sex?  Barring emotional or health concerns, of course.  I mean, aren't we the picture of average?

"It's news because not everyone is us.  We're not average," Husband said.

I always forget this.  Always.  Our frequency just feels so natural and comforting that I never remember that we're the exception.  A friend I confided in even told me once that Husband and I simply have too much sex.  Another friend told me I must be the best wife ever for giving my husband sex that often (I had to correct her and told her that we both have high sex drives.  I'm not sacrificing.  We're both giving and receiving).  And yet, I always forget these conversations that indicate that we're not average.  According to the Kinsey Institute, our age group generally has sex an average of once a week to a few times a month, and the youngest married couples (18-24) average about 2-3 times per week.  But with so many sexless marriages running around (an estimated 15-20%), I figured the average among happy, sexual fulfilling marriages must be higher.  It must be that 5-6 times per week (sometimes as much as 14) that Husband and I have, right?  RIGHT???

I made a quick and dirty informal poll of both my mom friends and my sex blogging friends, all happily married, all in relationships that are by no means sexless.  I expected to see at least 4-5 times per week, probably more.  Maybe as much as 7+.  I expected to see that answer from just about everyone.

That's not what I saw.

The average among my friends of a wide variety of ages was still (drum roll please) 1-3 times per week, with only a couple of exceptions.  I'm trying to wrap my brain around this.  Maybe we are odd after all. And somehow, I don't care that we're the oddballs.

Shopping for swimsuits makes you a potential thief, apparently.

With summer in full swing, vacation coming up, and me having recently lost 10 pounds (woot!), I thought I'd treat myself to a new swimsuit.  A friend gave me a tip that a local store was having a sale on two pieces: buy one separate, get one 50% off.  Sounded kind of awesome, so I decided to check it out.  After all, I'm celebrating body positivism and all that and working on acknowledging and loving me for who I am.  Also, Husband wanted to see me in a bikini.  In fact, the first thing he said when I mentioned that I needed a new swimsuit for vacation was, "Bikini?!"  Yes, sure.  Bikini.  I had one before, but only wore it a handful of times.

So anyway, I strolled through the racks, selected a plain black bikini bottom, a plain top, a pair of swim shorts, and was delighted to find a 60's style black with white polka dots bikini top.  Last one in my size.  Oh, yes, is this ever coming home with me.

I arrived at the changing area and waited while the woman in front of me took her turn with the attendant.  The woman had several swimsuit separates and meekly said, "I'm not sure how many I have here."

The attendant said, "You can take six in with you."  The woman began counting out six items, and the attendant--wait for it--started counting loudly with her, as if this grown woman would not be capable of counting to six unaided.  The woman took her six items to the changing room and left the rest outside.

The attendant turned to me and asked me how many I had there.  I told her four.  She peered over her counter skeptically, and I held up my items and watched her mouth "One...two...three...four."  The woman in front of me couldn't count to six, but apparently I couldn't even make it to four.

I took my items, tried them on, and immediately hated the swim shorts and found the plain black top too big.  The polka dot top was fresh and cute, and the bottoms fit well.  On my way out, the attendant advised me to leave whatever didn't fit on the counter.  I did, and walked off with my top and bottom.  I went back to the swimsuit area and selected a different size of the top that didn't fit, then back to the fitting rooms.

The attendant was sitting on the floor, arranging something on racks.

"How many do you have?" she asked wearily.

"Just one."

"One?" she eyed my hands.  "Did you say 'one'?  You have three."

"Yes, but I tried these two on already.  I'm only trying on this one."  I showed her the one top that I would be trying.

"I can't allow you to take those other two in with you.  You will have to leave them out here."  She gestured to a seat outside the fitting rooms.  The forcefulness of her ruling, paired with the implication that I may actually steal these two other items if I brought them in with me (what kept me from stealing them the first time?) was a bit jarring.  At this point, Husband had arrived on the scene and witnessed her giving me this strange edict.  We both agreed it was a little odd and later wondered aloud if perhaps she was new.

The thing is that I understand people steal.  I do.  Stores from the smallest mom-and-pop operations to huge stores like Wal-Mart and Target have a right and a responsibility to make sure that merchandise isn't walking away without compensation.  I know there are certain rules and regulations in place to minimize theft.  However, these regulations to the average shopper are almost invisible.  Who really pays attention to those sensors by the door?  Or the security guard that doesn't look at you twice if you aren't obviously up to no good?  The store matron in the small shop that ever-so-casually checks you out?  My exchange with this attendant felt different.  It felt like she screamed, "You might steal something if I don't watch you like a hawk!" at me without actually saying it.  The counting the items.  The forceful tone when she said, "I can't allow you to take those in with you."  I've never experienced it before and it really threw me.  I'm the kind of person that will go back and pay if I get to my car and realize there is an item that got lost in the bottom of the cart that I forgot to pay for.  It's happened more than once.  Once when I was a teenager, I bought a pack of stickers and after I got home I found two packs had stuck together and I only paid for one and was gripped by guilt for weeks.  Needless to say, today's exchange felt off.  I understand that she was probably ordered to behave this way, but I'll definitely think twice before shopping there again.  I know you need to protect merchandise, but geez, do you have to be so blunt?

Abercrombie & Fitch can, quite frankly, bite me.

I'm going to start off by asking you to think back to 2006.  Remember 2006?  Not a whole lot has changed since then, so it shouldn't be too hard.  I think Silly Bandz were about to come into fashion for youngsters.  Good.  They needed something they can look back on with shame and horror like we look back on snap bracelets.  If you don't remember snap bracelets, you are either too young to be reading this blog or older than I am.  If the latter is the case, feel free to think of a once popular but now infamous fashion accessory from your childhood.

Wait, where was I?  Ah, yes.  2006.  That's the year when Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries gave a rather unfortunate interview to Salon.com.  In this interview, he said some things that, well, weren't that awesome.  Among the words he uttered were gems like:

“In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids ...Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely."

And then there's this, about building his business around sex appeal:

"It’s almost everything. That’s why we hire good-looking people in our stores. Because good-looking people attract other good-looking people, and we want to market to cool, good-looking people. We don’t market to anyone other than that."

Abercrombie doesn't carry any women's sizes above a size 10.  XL and up are completely out.  However, they do carry XL and up for men, just not women.  I guess women above a 10 just aren't pretty.  Or cool.  Or have sex appeal.  The thing is these statements probably would have been lost to time if not for an article in the Business Insider reprinting them recently.  News of Abercrombie and Jeffries's feelings have spread across the internet, prompting parents to refuse to buy clothes for their children there and even removing previously purchased items from their closets.

Honestly, a size 10 really isn't that big.  When I discussed this with a tall, very trim friend of mine, she said, "I'd barely be able to squeeze in."  Need a visual reference?  Check out model Jennie Runk.  She was featured in H&M's beachware collection and is supposed to be a "plus-sized" model.  She's reportedly a size 12.  Go take a look.  Go ahead, I'll wait.

Ready?

That beautiful, healthy, completely not overweight woman would technically be too fat to shop at Abercrombie.  Does that seem right to you?

I want to say something to you, A&F.  I say this as a former uncool kid.  I say this as a former outcast.  I say this as a former fat kid that grew into a healthy adult.  I say this as a person that apparently never belonged in your clothes.  Bullying in schools is already ridiculously horrible.  Do you understand what I'm saying to you?  Children are killing themselves over the kind of sentiments you are so flippant about.  Not being able to be cool.  Not being able to be thin.  Not being able to belong in the supposed golden fleece that is Abercrombie & Fitch clothing.  Are you insane?  How can you possibly think this is OK to publicize?  You've given struggling children one more thing to struggle against.  Shame on you!  On what planet do you think these kinds of statements are responsible?

Here's the thing.  Us former outcasts?  We're grown-ups now.  Our completely uncool hitting of the books and making good grades and caring for our minds paid off.  And now we have...wait for it...money.  And we have children.  We have children and money.  Do you see where I'm going with this?  We, as parents, won't be spending money with you.  We remember what it's like to "not belong" in  your clothes.  But I guess I shouldn't expect any sensitivity from a company that actually thought it would be a good idea to sell a line of girls' t-shirts that said really winning statements like, "Why do I need brains when I have these?" and "I had a nightmare that I was a brunette."

You want to cater specifically to a set range of sizes?  Do so.  Lot's of stores do it.  Some stores are specifically for tall, or short, or full breasted.  All you have to say is, "We specialize in clothes between sizes ____ and ____."  You won't be faulted for having a specialty.  But don't you dare, don't you dare even pretend for one minute that your negativity somehow makes you better.  Don't you dare try to teach children and teens that those that wear your clothes are the cool ones and their peers are losers.  Don't you dare feed the self-esteem poison that is causing misery across the country.  Just...just shame on you.  I'm horrified.

The Breast Ogling Heart Health Myth

There is a charming idiotic myth about sexual and cardiovascular health that's making it's way through society again.  Have you heard it?  Allow me to give you the very brief version of this myth.  Remember I said myth.  And I'll say it again.  It's a myth.

The myth states that a doctor in Germany by the name of Karen Weatherby discovered that for men over 40, it is good for their health to stare at breasts that are D cup or larger for 10 minutes a day.  Doing so, supposedly, has the same health benefits of a 30 minute aerobic workout and is good for cardiovascular health.

This story has been reported on several health and wellness sites (along with some tabloids, of course).  Even more reputable sites didn't pull down their stories when comments alerted them to the fact that the Karen Weatherby breast study is in fact a complete and utter hoax.  And not just any hoax, but a hoax that is at least 14 years old, likely closer to 16.  This myth is old enough to get it's learner's permit and start practicing parallel parking.

As a critical thinker, the very idea that breast staring = exercise seems completely ridiculous, so why did so many people buy into it?  Even more disturbing, according to some comments I read, men were intending on using this "study" to defend their blatant staring at other women to their wives and girlfriends, and they should just understand.  Why are they--why is anyone--buying into this nonsense?

My guess: wishful thinking.  We, as humans, appreciate beauty, but we also believe staring is rude.  As a woman, I would be extremely uncomfortable if a stranger came up to me and said he was going to stare at my chest for 10 minutes for his heart health.  Or if Husband said he was going out for a while to look at some boobies (which I'd also find a little odd, because, well, I'm right here).  This myth gives people a pass to stare at whatever they want, whenever they want without apology.

Look, I'm not saying breasts aren't awesome.  I'm not saying men don't notice them.  I'm just saying when you run across "studies" like this, you have stop and think.  Look it up.  Don't take anything you see or read for granted.  Heck, I expect you to look up what I say if something doesn't sound right to you.  Stop, drop, and roll.  Stop, think, research.

Of Removing Wedding Rings

This morning I'm making bread.  We almost never buy store bread anymore, and Husband and I both both have our particular recipes that we like to use.  (When we try to use each other's recipes, no matter how close we follow the guidelines, they always fail).  His recipe can be kneaded in our stand mixer, but the recipe I use is too big and I have to knead it by hand.  I don't mind kneading.

As I started the dough, I took my engagement and wedding rings off.  For some reason, this shocks people.  I always take my rings off when I'm about to do something potentially icky or gunk inducing, especially baking or working with raw meat.  I do it now more than ever since last time I had my engagement ring cleaned the jeweler looked at it and said, "There's...something in it."

"Yeah, that's dough," I had to admit.  "I bake a lot."

Husband doesn't wear his ring at all.  He used to, long ago before he was Engineer Husband and was Works For a Shipping Company Husband.  After just a few days working for the shipping company, his ring was covered in dents and dirt.  He took it off.  That was almost 10 years ago and he hasn't put it back on.  He's left-handed and finds it gets in the way.  And lest you think he's not fair about this issue, he has told me that he doesn't particularly care if I wear my ring or not.  We're married whether or not we wear our rings.

Some people, though, have very high emotional feelings about removing wedding rings.  Even though many wives and husbands remove their rings at certain times or don't wear them very much due to allergies, comfort, weight loss or gain, fear of losing them* or getting them dirty, there is still the pervasive idea that removing your wedding ring for any reason is somehow immoral.  I've talked with some people that even worry that removing their rings, even for a second, will somehow indirectly and cosmically cause a divorce down the line.  They don't take theirs off and don't like to see other people taking theirs off.

Obviously, taking off a wedding ring has a lot of cultural symbolism.  If you do a quick Google search about taking off wedding rings, you'll see a lot of images that are meant to hint that the person in the photo is about to have a go at adultery.  If you look further, you'll see many discussions about who takes off their wedding ring and why.  And then we have products like the Anti-Cheating Ring, which is engraved on the inside so that if a would-be cheater removes their ring, an impression that says, "I'm Married" is left on the skin.

It seems that there are a lot of people who feel that taking off a wedding ring is either asking for a divorce or signifies the intention to cheat.  What about you?  Is taking off your ring a big deal or no?


*One time I was just wearing my wedding ring when my engagement ring needed repairs.  I had lost weight since my wedding and my ring was huge.  I looked down at my hand and found it missing.  I searched and searched for it, wondering if I had just put it somewhere, while a friend of mine questioned me as to the reason that I would dare to take it off long enough to loose it.  It turns out it actually fell off my hand when I was doing laundry.  I found it in the washer.

Women hate sex...right?

Today, I am angry.  No, I am more than angry.  I am livid.  I am sick to death of the same nonsense being repeated over and over.  It's in movies.  It's in TV shows.  It's in books.  This thought has become so pervasive that we've started repeating it to ourselves and each other.  This ultimately damaging and potentially relationship-wrecking thought is this:

Women hate sex.  Or, more recently, it's related cousin: Women don't make sex a priority.

Let me tell you, dear readers, nothing gets me inflamed faster except olives on my pizza.  It is an outdated, stupid, and lazy line of thinking and people are believing it.  I will not stand for it.

Confused?  Let's back up and take a look.  Some weeks ago, I blogged about a commercial that played on this same tired stereotype.  A few days ago, I blogged about the infamous vibrator gift.  If you recall, what really inflamed me about that last one was not what happened, but this generalized statement:

...he forgot that for most women, orgasms come second to foot massages, books, chocolates and anti-aging facials.

No.  No no no no.  Most women?  Seriously?  I'm trying not to type in all caps here, and I'm finding it very, very hard.  But, as Penny said in O Brother, Where Art Thou, "I've spoken my peace and counted to three."  The end.  Until a fellow blogger showed me this: 25 Things Moms Would Rather Do Than Have Sex 6 Weeks After Having a Baby.  Particularly, this statement:

 ...getting back in the saddle again and resuming an active sex life usually isn't a huge priority for new moms.

Look, I get babies are rough.  I know.  I have kids, too, and I know that sometimes you just want 10 minutes to yourself.  And, to be fair, the study that particular author references does say that most moms wait longer than six weeks to engage in intercourse, but it also said that 53% had some sort of sexual activity before six weeks, just not intercourse.  For the love of all things, read the whole article.  Despite what the 25 Things author hints at, they aren't holding out because sex isn't a priority.  They wait longer because they are waiting for birth injuries to heal.  That's a big difference.  To say sex life isn't a priority for new moms --not some new moms, not a few new moms, but simply "new moms" -- because of that study would be like saying, "I'm sick so I can't have sex right now," and "Having sex is no longer a priority in my life," are the same thing. They are most certainly not the same.

Now, the author of the 25 Things article does eventually say, "At least it was for me..."  But then she ruins it by this statement:

Having sex was probably the furthest thing from my mind at that time -- to the point where I really can't understand how ANY new mom would rate having sex as being high up on her "to-do" list.

Aaaaaaaand we're back to angry.  Personally, it was really hard for me to wait the whole 6 weeks after the birth of my children.  Most of the moms I know say the same thing.  The thing is, yes, some women don't make their sex life a priority.  I will stand up here and shout it from the mountain tops and mean it.  But guess what?  Some men don't, either!  For every husband you point to that complains that his wife doesn't have the time or energy for him, I will show you a wife that says the exact same thing about her husband.  I run into them all the time!  Heck, I was talking to one yesterday!  It's not a woman thing.  It's a people thing.  It's a relationship thing.  It's so easy -- and by easy I mean ridiculously lazy -- to look at a sexless or near-sexless relationship and blame the woman because women just don't like sex.  You can say it, but it wouldn't be true.  It's not about women.  It's about people and how they navigate their relationships.

So stop.  Stop tolerating this nonsense right now.  Stop telling each other this.  Stop telling yourselves this.  DO NOT let media or other people tell you that not only do women not like sex, but that it's somehow "normal" not to.  Women, in general, don't hate sex.  Women, in general, don't even think it is a low priority.  Yes, some women do.  Some men do, too.  We just don't talk about it because it is just so much easier to rely on stereotypes for the diagnosis of sexual problems.  If there is a sexual problem in a relationship, it is time to open up and *gasp* talk to each other.

The Gifting of the Vibrator

Husband does not get hints.  If I make statements like, "I really like silver jewelry," and "Oh, look, Kay's is having a sale!" he will NOT put those things together to mean that I would like a piece of jewelry for my birthday.  Such information must be given to him bluntly and subtlety most certainly isn't his thing.  That's not a complaint, just an observation.  It sounds mean, but seriously, think Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory.  No, I'm not kidding.  He even has his specific seat on the couch that is molded to him.  That being said, sometimes he fails at gifts.  This led him to ask for specifics when I want something.  He doesn't want me to say, "Oh, I'd like something to help me relax," or, "I think I might like to go to dinner."  He wants me to say, "I want a massage stone," or, "I'd like to go to dinner at that new restaurant."

Eventually we all may have a bit of a diva tantrum when it comes to gifts.  I once received a kitschy cat mug that at first filled me full of rage.  Long story short, it was the kind of thing my mother would have collected, I'm not on good terms with my mother, and just seeing something that reminded me of her set me off.  I eventually liked the mug and now I actually use it.  See?  I'm not perfect.  Neither are you.  Or anyone else.  We all have our lapses in maturity when it comes to gifts.

I now want to point you to the article, My Husband Bought Me a Vibrator for My Birthday. It makes me a little sad.  You are free to go read it, but I'll give you the highlights: She hinted to her husband that she wanted something for her birthday that would help her relax (she meant something like a facial, but...), her husband thought she would enjoy a really expensive vibrator*, he felt he did a really good thing,  he thought she was going to love it, she hated it and let him know in no uncertain terms that she did, he was confused, and she was super-pissed at the price involved.

Long story short, springing a sex toy as a gift on someone who hasn't shown an interest in them is probably not a good idea, but she probably should have been a little more grateful if he really had her best interest at heart.

However, my main point is not gratefulness in gift giving.  The main point is the repetition of the old idea that women don't like sex and don't care about orgasms.  She even says in the article that her husband gave her the "boy answer, not the girl answer."  The thing that irritated me most about this article is this statement:

And then I realised…that’s exactly what he did. He bought me the ultimate gift for relaxation except he forgot that for most women, orgasms come second to foot massages, books, chocolates and anti-aging facials.

Um...says who?  I might be going a little too TMI here, but if Husband and I don't have our sex and orgasms, we, yes WE, he and I, get pretty cranky.  I don't care for an anti-aging facial.  I could go for some chocolate but an orgasm is better, I like books but Husband is pretty awesome, and I can get a foot massage anytime but want an orgasm sooner.  What "most women" is she talking about?  I'm pretty sure I'm not in some tiny fraction of women that actually enjoy sex with their husbands.

I'm just sick of being told, and even women telling each other, that sex life in marriage is not a priority.  I'm tired of hearing that it's not something we are meant to enjoy.  I'm tired of hearing that I as a woman should not think it's important!  How, how, how could people still be telling themselves and each other that these things don't matter?


*Note: He claimed that the vibe was around $200 Australian, which is around $206 US.  I'm pretty sure he's either lying about the price or he was taken in.  There is now way that thing should have cost that much.  Please, always buy from a reputable dealer.

Body Image

Take a look at this.  It's a series of gifs of before and after photoshop jobs of popular stars put together by BuzzFeed.  Go ahead and look.  At least look at a couple.  I'll wait.

Ready?  Good.  Let's continue.

I'll be honest.  I've known since I was in late high school/early college that stars are photoshopped and airbrushed and all that jazz.  I've known.  I found it irritating.  But really, there was nothing I could do about it and I thought it really doesn't affect me.  I, personally, would never feel the need to compare myself to these glossy photos that have absolutely no bearing on reality.  Not ever.  I knew better.

Only I did it anyway.  You see, I was the fat sister.  I wasn't obese, but I was most definitely on the chunkier side.  There were a few family members that, especially when they were angry with me, loved to remind me that I wasn't, shall we say, appropriately sized?  [I think it's important to note here that all involved grew into perfectly lovely people and, well, kids can be cruel.]  At school, the teasing was relentless.  There were specific phrases used in my direction that I still carry with me to this day, even though I know it meant nothing.  However, it is kind of hard to not carry some scars when you felt so belittled that you took it as a compliment when someone called you "she" instead of "it."

You know what the hilarious thing about it all is?  I wasn't even that unattractive of a child.  I wasn't even that heavy.  A bit overweight?  Yes, by a few pounds.  Unhealthy?  Nope.  In fact, at one point I hit a growth spurt and shot straight up and got tall and thin.  So why all the teasing?  To put it simply, I was easy.  After the growth spurt, the belittling continued.  I put all that weight back on without realizing it had come off.  The only reason I even knew it happened is the photos I saw of myself years later.

So here I am.  An adult.  I'm slightly over the healthy weight line.  By like...10 pounds, I think.  I've been trying to lose that 10 or 15 pounds for years.  I eat right.  I exercise.  That's not just lip service.  It's true.  Those last few pounds to get back into the healthy weight range are just all sorts of stubborn.  However, I've made peace with myself.  I'm still trying to get those last pounds off, but that's for health.  Ok, a little for vanity.  Shut up.  Don't judge me.

But I'm not here to talk about that.  I just get sidetracked.  What I want to talk about is body image issues and photoshopping.  I will never be what the media thinks of as beautiful.  I also don't particularly care.  Consciously, I knew no one is as beautiful as they are in the magazines, not even the models themselves.  Their images are drastically altered, turning people of perfectly healthy, and even super skinny weights, into skeletons.  And I understand wanting to airbrush out a pimple or scratch, as those are fading things, but removing moles and freckles?  Those are part of you are.

Do you understand what I'm saying here?  Even the people hailed as the most beautiful people in the world are still not beautiful enough.  If that's true, then what hope do I have?  Or you?  Or anyone?

The most disturbing thing about these images is that they just get into your head.  Like I've said at least twice now, I know better.  I know those photos are, for a lack of a better word, fake.  And yet, sometimes I glance at those magazine covers as I'm checking out in the grocery store with a cart of fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and good meats, and think to myself, "I wish my hair was full like that. My hair is so thin."  Or, "If only my belly was that flat.  If only my thighs were that smooth.  If only my face was thinner."  And that's really what pisses me off about the whole thing.  It's this nonsense.  Being educated and aware and still not being able to escape the inadequacy.

But you know what?  When Husband walks through the room and pokes me in the belly, it's a sign of affection.  He's being playful and spirited, not calling attention to the fact that my belly should be smaller. When he plays with my hair, he's not thinking that he wishes it was curlier or fuller.  And when we finally crawl into bed at the end of the day, he's not wishing for that woman on the magazine cover.  He wants me.  Just me.  So you know what I'm going to do?  I'm going to keep reminding myself that I'm perfectly fine.  That I'm loved and love others.  That I can't measure up to people that don't exist.  Period.