What’s kind of interesting is that wedding dresses, and dresses from the victorian, edwardian, and also modern dresses make women look like insects. Women in modern art also mimic the shape of insects, by exaggerating the waist and crossing the legs.

I think maybe we just need some insecticide around here.

See, I am solicited frequently by p0rnulated d00ds on various social networking sites. It’s not worth my time to consider they might NOT be horny fucknozzles hoping to use me for their sexual gratification to the maximum possible extent. Hopeful, that I will exceed their sexual gratification expectations, put on the little black dress I’m wearing in That Picture, get in my car, and meet them at their hotel / apartment / parents’ basement / etc. And ideally I will arrive drunk enough / rolling / thoughtfully slipped myself a roofie, etc so all they have to do is press play to gain access and use me for a meatsock.

Because pretty much every single one of them? Greets me with a remark expressing their approval of my aesthetic qualities / assessment that I am sexually satisfactory to them. In other words, complete strangers ping me out of nowhere because they see me as “online” to inform me that I’m beautiful / hot / sexay (choose 1). They expect compliments and flattery (affirmation of commodity value) aimed at my primary characteristic (appearance) will please me. Maybe enough that I’ll put out.

Except, this thing here -> my appearance has no impact on me. I can’t feel it, I can’t see it. Unlike a limb, organ or my general health, if I were a cubist nightmare, nothing in my life would be different. Other than d00ds leaving me alone, I mean.

No, a non-male’s appearance is about THEM, what they see and the judging process to which they are entitled to subject and grade any and every non-male. It’s a pass/fail thing and we are expected to be eager to receive their opinion.

Complete random strangers. They could drop dead for all I care – and if I don’t care whether they live or die, why the fiddly fuck would I care what they think of phantom characteristics they say I have? Being accosted with their uninvited op-ed is without a doubt the most ginormous demonstration of unbridled narcissism mathematically possible to wedge into a first impression. If strange men must randomly solicit me with flattery, PICK ANY OTHER TRAIT – my major, my cool page template, for fuck’s sake my penmanship, just don’t tell me I look good unless you want to be asked what the fuck that has to do with anything anywhere, least of all you.

On the rare occaision I even reply to any of these d00dly d00ds, I do so expressly for the unconventional entertainment value I find in consistently disappointing them with strictly platonic chat about feminism, programming, and my pet bunny Scissors. Ha.

Males who seek out Teh Hawtness don’t differentiate a real live Womenthing from the Pornthing of their PornReality, and that’s how you work the Pornthing. Whenever you wanna rub one out, pull her out, press play and be gratified.

…And I wear combat boots when I don’t wear Chuckies. I have a pair of heels for job interviews, which have no backs so I can kick them off at every opportunity, because they mandate four preventative bandaids against their phenomenal blistering powers. If I want to dress up, I put on my combat boots and my little black dress, which is actually a cotton nightie with the power to work like a dress when paired with standard undergarments. Because it pleases me to do so. I win!

Re: wedding dresses — when my folks got married (early sixties) it was not unusual for the woman to wear a suit instead of a big, gauzy Bridezilla dress. And that was not exactly a right-thinking era. When will some women get a clue that what’s being pushed as “traditional” is made-up, reactionary BS?

And older member of the community was wrong to just mention the fetus but use a bit of common sense!