Only anarchists are pretty...

Via Kate Harding's Shapely Prose, on the impending so-called "bathing suit season":

The magazines have started. We are now in the pre-season — the ”unless you’re already quite thin, it’s time to start losing weight if you want to show your body in public this summer!” phase. (If you are quite thin, please wait for our May issue, when we’ll tell you you’re too pale*, hairy, blemished, and unfashionable, your boobs are too small to go with your butt, you could still stand to tone up those muscles, and your body insecurity is a real turn-off.)

Damn, women's magazines are a mindfuck of competing ways to make women feel bad about themselves. I still look at them (slave to fashion, me), but I try to ignore the constant current of you're-not-good-enough that comes out of them. It's hard, yo. But I soldier on.

...which are, in fact, related, in that they all caught my mind this week:

-I'll be at Panic tomorrow night. You should be, too.

-Today I am wearing a necklace that I lent my mum last Saturday night, and it smells like her. That's kind of sweet, isn't it?

-The Guardian has a list of 1000 novels everyone must read, divided into genres. I haven't counted how many I've read, but I know I've read some, at least.

-90s body standards v. those of today, told in celebrity pics. Kind of slaps you in the face with how crazy the whole thin craze has gotten.

-Liss at Shakesville breaks down Tool Academy, my reality show guilty pleasure of the season. My favorite thing about this show is the line they say when they get rid of a guy on the show: "You're still a tool." Genius, eh, scottsteg?

-Harry Potter is a "Zionist" conspiracy. And I'm Phyllis Schafly.

-Apocalypse survival guide.

-I don't mean to sound like a moron, but could the reason that the Post Office is in financial trouble have less to do with our doom-and-gloom economy and more to do with the fact that people just don't use snail mail as much anymore?

-And finally, the quote of the week, from Illinois Senator Meeks yesterday: “We have this thing called impeachment and it’s bleeping golden.”

Have a fucking golden weekend, everyone, and whatever you do, don't give it up for fucking nothing!

-In yet another example of McCain's disconnect with modern-day America, his spokesman put out this gem: "It may be typical of the pro-Obama Dungeons & Dragons crowd to disparage a fellow countryman’s memory of war from the comfort of mom’s basement, but most Americans have the humility and gratitude to respect and learn from the memories of men who suffered on behalf of others." Er, dude? The D&D crowd supports Ron Paul. And plays World of Warcraft nowadays. Duh. (Oh, and the guy later had to issue an apology to D&D players. PWND!)

-Dear Bill Donohue: You do not speak for all Catholics. Nor do you speak for all Christians, or all American citizens. I won't request that you shut the fuck up, but I will request that you stop couching your rhetoric as if more than a handful of bigoted sheep agree with you. Because only that handful do agree with you. (Some of the other bigoted sheep are anti-Catholic, so they can't get on board with you.) (However, I do have to give mad props to Bitch Ph.D for earning the ire of Donohue. You know you're doing something right when that tool denounces you!)

-Why Libertarians may not be the freedom-loving folks they say they are.

-Think body image standards haven't changed in the last 40 years? Think again.

-Jon Stewart: The Most Trusted Man In America. (Though Stephen Colbert is surely the most truthY.)

-Tee hee: LOLBush!

-Over the years, I've been trying to scrub my inner and outer monologue of words that trash women (and let's face it, pretty much only women) for having sex. I do my damnedest not to call anyone a slut or a whore, because I simply no longer believe in the concept (I had to shake off quite a few years of societal conditioning to get to this point, too, I must admit). Consenting adults should be able to have sex and not be labeled and judged for it, period. But, at the same time, I still get a bit of a kick out of the old-fashioned words that were used to judge sex-loving women. In that vein, what's your favorite vintage insult for a so-called loose woman? My favorites include Jezebel, tart, harlot and minx.

-Speaking of insulting women, McCain's record on women's issues absolutely blows. Feel free to pass that link on to anyone who's thinking of voting for him.

-Finally, check out this post about the love/hate relationship women have with getting their picture taken. I can totally relate to this one. Whenever some kind soul looks at my pics on LJ, Myspace or Facebook and tells me I'm photogenic, I always remind them that I only put the good pics up online. I have 2 or 3 times as many pictures of me than what I post. I just don't think they look good enough. I feel like I look fat, or my hair is frizzy, or any one of the many things that we can find wrong in pictures of ourselves. That said, I have faced the fact that some pictures of me are out there that are out of my control. I get tagged in photos on Myspace or Facebook, and I don't always look my best. Pics of me that I don't love are in Flickr pools and the like. And you know what? That's OK. I've come to realize that it's far nicer to be tagged by a friend in a photo where I don't love how I look than not to be tagged by my friends - than to miss the moment when the photo was taken. So I can deal with some unflattering photos of me floating around the internet. And I won't chase them down and detag them, or delete them, or try to retouch them somehow. So my chin looks double in a pic of me laughing. The point is that I'm laughing. And that I was there for the joke.

-Obama is the Democratic nominee for president. Just think about that for a minute. Liss at Shakesville has a great post on the historical implications of this nomination: "Back in April, I ... noted: 'Barack Obama would, if nominated and elected, be the first Illinois legislator to occupy the White House since Abraham Lincoln. That's some fucking bookends right there.'" Indeed.

-A few must-read posts on the end of the Clinton campaign, from Erica Jong, Liss and Jezebel.

-Feminism: You're doing it wrong.

-Why we fight for reproductive choice.

-Velvet D'Amour is awesome.

Via Shapely Prose:

I have a confession to make.

I know I tend to put myself out there as some literary snob (Er, sort of, can I be a literary snob and still be addicted to vampire novels? Somehow I doubt it.), but I just can't keep this dirty little secret to myself any longer.

I read Sweet Valley High books when I was a kid.

I know, I know, they're vapid, poorly written crap. Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield are about the most ridiculous literary "heroines" ever created. I'd tell preteen and teenage girls to look up to Nancy Drew (who at least seemed to think for herself) and Trixie Belden (who made constant mistakes) way sooner than telling them to even think about Jess and Liz as any kind of role models.

But I read them. I read them when I was 11/12/13, of course. I read them when being 16 and having a car to drive and boys to date seemed like the coolest fucking thing evar. I read them and got the misguided idea that high school was full of cool teens, fun dances, regular hangouts, big games, earnest school newspapers, and date nights. (When I got to high school, of course, I discovered that the teens were mostly human and distressingly normal, the dances were sort of fun but also sort of lame, there were no regular hangouts, big games weren't that big, my school didn't have a newspaper that I knew of, and there were no dates, just "group things".) I read them in the wide-eyed way that preteens read that sort of thing. (And now I read funny recaps of them over at The Dairi Burger, which is a great site for any recovering SVH reader.)

Recently I heard that Random House is re-releasing the series, and trying to update the so-eighties books to make them more palatable to an modern day audience. While the updating itself is kind of annoying and stupid (I think kids are perfectly able to read eighties-era books and figure out that life was different then - I read a lot of books that were written in the sixties and seventies when I was a kid, and I managed to work it out), there are a few things about it that rather make my stomach turn. Like the twins driving a red Jeep Wrangler instead of a red Fiat. Way to make the girls not give a fuck about gas-guzzling vehicles, Random House! (Also, Fiats are still cool.) But the worst update? The twins, always a "perfect size 6" back in the day, are now a "perfect size 4".

Forgetting for a moment the ridiculous pressure of making a teenage heroine's size "perfect" at all, and forgetting that uniformity in women's clothing sizing is the proverbial missing holy grail of the fashion industry (for those who argue that a size 4 today is a size 6 in the 80s, I say that a size 4 in one shop is a size 6 in another, and a size 2 in another, and also, that's not the point), I have to shout out to Random House a resounding WHAT THE FUCK? There was already a nice, unattainable for many, goal of perfection in the Sweet Valley books, the constant size 6 of the twins. Now you make the goal even more unattainable? What, do preteen and teenage girls just not feel fucking bad enough about themselves for you, Random House? You have to change up reissued books to make them feel worse?

Man, what's the youth book market coming to these days? The shelves are stuffed with books (that I admittedly haven't read) that are all about perfect kids and their perfect problems. I browse the YA section at bookstores, and I see a lot of Gossip Girl, The Clique, et cetera. Where are the books about the outsiders, the kids who were kind of weird, or not perfect? I think those books are almost only being written in the YA fantasy/SF genre nowadays. Which is great, but how about the everyday outsiders, like the ones in the books I ate up as a kid from Paul Zindel, Paula Danziger, John Neufeld, Hannah Green, and Judy Blume, to name a few? Those books you have to hunt around a bit to find these days, if you can find them at all.

More here, here and here.

Speaking of books, check out this essay, which discusses what books/authors are dealbreakers in terms of dating: "Anyone who cares about books has at some point confronted the Pushkin problem: when a missed — or misguided — literary reference makes it chillingly clear that a romance is going nowhere fast. At least since Dante’s Paolo and Francesca fell in love over tales of Lancelot, literary taste has been a good shorthand for gauging compatibility." Anybody out there have dealbreaker books or authors?

Oddly enough, for all of my pseudo-snobbery when it comes to books, I don't think I do. When someone tells me he doesn't like to read (or hates Shakespeare, or dislikes poetry), I take that as more of a challenge than a dealbreaker, and tend to start pointing him toward books that I think will spark his interest. When someone names someone like Dan Brown as a favorite author, I try to discuss that with him, and maybe nudge that person toward good fiction in a similar genre. On the flipside, though, I do love finding out that I have books/authors in common with someone, and it can raise my esteem of someone if he likes the same stuff that I like. (This, of course, applies to music, film, sports, and all sorts of things, as Rob Gordon would say: "...what really matters is what you like, not what you are like... Books, records, films -- these things matter. Call me shallow but it's the fuckin' truth...")

Remember how last year around this time I volunteered for the Glass Slipper Project, which provides prom dresses and gear for low income Chicago high schoolers? And how disheartening it was that there were so few choices for plus size girls among the dresses? Well, I decided that this year, I'd see what I could do about that, and I requested the help of the awesome women at Shapely Prose. And they've graciously answered the call. Very cool. I plan on volunteering for the project again this year. Wanna join me?

I have a slew of links to dump on you fine people, and an in-like-a-lion March Monday is as good a day as any to do it. Off we go:

-Once in awhile, you think of the brilliant comeback not hours later as you lay in bed stewing over an insult, but right when the insult happens. This story (via Shapely Prose) is about such a perfect moment.

-Think McCain is still that maverick that some once loved? Hmmm. Take a look at his record on abortion issues. Not so much the maverick. In that same vein, check out this story that illustrates how many in the pro-life movement seem to forget about the lives they're so concerned about saving once the saving part is over.

-Also related to pro-life/pro-choice issues: abstinence-only sex education. I bet you and I both know that abstinence-only sex education doesn't work, and in fact produces more situations where a young woman will be faced with the choice of having a baby than sex education that discusses contraception does. But not only does it not work, it's harmful to young women. Damn. Like it or not, people will always have sex. Better that they should be well-informed of the consequences and ways to protect themselves then walk blind into the world of sexual activity. Of course, there will always be idiots like this Colorado rep who longs for the good old days of sending girls who got pregnant away in shame and calling them sluts with impunity.

-Well, you knew it was coming: some idiot named Dick Marple who can't really read the Constitution says that the 19th Amendment doesn't allow women to run for president, it merely allows women to vote. Oh, and whose fault is this "misapprehension"? "The feminists". (There's just the one group of us, you know, all uppity and banding together to twist the Constitution to our evil ends.) Anyway, strict constructionists, check out your copy of the Constitution (the whole thing, not just the 19th Amendment). Don't have it handy? Here you go. Article II, Section 1, Clause 5 sets out the requirements for someone running for president:

No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States.

Funnily enough, that section doesn't talk about men or women running for president. It talks about a person running for president. So, under the Constitution, a man or woman filling the above requirements could run, whether he or she could vote or not. Damn, I bet that concept really makes old Dick's head spin and explode, eh?

-Speaking of feminism and women's issues, check out this James Wolcott piece on sexism still rampant today.

So here we are, it's January 8, another big political day with the New Hampshire primary going on. (Also, Chicagoans, today is the last day to register to vote in the Illinois primary on February 5. Go to the Chicago Board of Election Commissioners for info, and note that Loop offices will be open till midnight to accomodate last minuters.) I'm hopeful about and interested in the NH results, but I'm going to try and stay away from looking at numbers until the polls close. For a little levity as the day goes on, though, do continue to check out Wonkette.

I may have mentioned in the past that I am something of a magazine junkie. I continue to buy magazines that I criticize for helping to make women feel bad about themselves, because, well, I like to look at the fashion spreads, and makeup ads, and stupid "embarrassing moment" stories, and whatever else. Shut up, everyone needs a little fluff sometimes. (Though I do draw the line at Cosmo, since that rag simply prints the same 5 stories in each issue with different titles.) Anyway, as I was reading the February issue of Glamour from cover to cover, I finished a story on an anorexic woman and how her husband deals with/helps her with her anorexia, and turned the page. To a full page ad for Fuze Slenderize (which I have tried, and which tastes quite like fruit-tinged chemicals), touting in massive type its "4 slenderizing vitamins and minerals", "10 calories", and "2 carbs". And I thought to myself, I bet the Glamour staffers didn't even see the irony in their layout for this issue. Then I hoped the woman still stuggling with anorexia didn't read the article about her and then turn to the full page ad for a you're-not-thin-enough drink. But I bet she did.

L saga:

Apparently everyone in the building got notes. They were all like ours in that they said the same things and were written on greeting card envelopes, not paper. (Did I fail to mention the envelope thing before? Yeah, class all the way is L.) But they were not all in the same handwriting. Thus, it would appear that the writing of 5 notes to neighbors was too arduous a task for poor L, so he conscripted his fiance into helping him copy out the notes. Can't you just feel the sincerity?

Note also that L reportedly told our landlord that the whole building had a meeting on this past Sunday and we all forgave him. A nice little fiction, as I did not leave the apartment once on Sunday, and was home reading for the duration.

Have now pretty much decided that we can tell when L is lying because his lips move (or his or his fiance's pens move). Hoping they will be evicted before long, because the drama alone is bad enough, but the drama paired with constant banging/running/pounding noise above us is really just too much.

Link dump:

-I am such a kid: Muppet Wiki is awesome.

-I wish I hadn't felt a little thrill when I read this story about a technology that would block a certain neurochemical pathway, which would "prevent fat accumulation and shrink fat deposits". I'm trying to be less conscious of body issues, really I am, but something that just makes fat vanish? Wow.

-Don't mention G-Dub in front of a jury, or you might lose your case.

-The Ohio patriarchy, er, legislature, wants to mandate that men have a veto power in whether women have abortions:

"As written, the bill would ban women from seeking an abortion without written consent from the father of the fetus. In cases where the identity of the father is unknown, women would be required to submit a list of possible fathers. The physician would be forced to conduct a paternity test from the provided list and then seek paternal permission to abort. ... Claiming to not know the father's identity is not a viable excuse, according to the proposed legislation. Simply put: no father means no abortion."

I'll tell you what, guys, we'll make a deal. When men can elect to get pregnant and carry babies to term, then they can have a say in whether an abortion can be had. Until then, step off. (Anyone who doesn't think the anti-choice movement is more about controlling women's bodies and sexuality than it is about saving babies, especially after reading this, is willfully pulling the wool over their eyes.)

Via Shakesville (which is pretty much my favorite daily read these days), check out this photo comparison of Faith Hill's Redbook cover, retouched cover version, and unretouched photo. Wow.

I am now making a solemn vow to try my damnedest not to believe a fucking image I see in fashion magazines, and to try not to compare myself with such images any longer. I'll probably fail. But, damn it, I will TRY. I swear I'm going to beat the beauty industrial complex one of these days (you know, after I spend a bunch more money on make-up and hair products). But really, what should we expect from a media that is beating up on Hatshepsut in the centuries-post mortem, because, you know, she doesn't appear to have been some sort of pharaohic (yeah, I just made that word up) skinny hottie?

I have been obsessed with this image (more about it at Pound) for a few weeks now, ever since vmydarkstar posted about it. I was going back to that Shakesville post just to look again and read the comments every day until the site went down (it's back up now). I was thinking about it at home, and I've now printed up the post and comments to stick into my hard copy journal at home so I can look at it whenever I need to.

The backstory is that the 3 images in the linked story are ads for a light yogurt in Brazil that have the tagline: "Forget it. Men’s tastes will never change." Basically saying: eat the yogurt so you won't be a fat ass like the women in the photos, because men will not want you if you are. Many things about the ad are disgusting, including the assumption that all women should be one body type, the assumption that all men like the same type and don't change their tastes, the assumption that women should change their looks to make men happy, and the assumption that any of the women pictured are disgusting. But those things, though very validly discussed all over the internet, are not really why I'm obsessed.

Why, you may ask, am I obsessed with this image:
?

Because, my friends, I have a difficult-for-me confession to make, and here I go putting myself out there more than I usually do on LJ: That image is pretty much what I look like naked from the neck down, when I'm laying on my back. I'm pretty sure it is, anyway, though I haven't taken any nude photos of myself lately. My first thought when I saw that picture was, "How lovely she looks." My second was, "Wait, I kind of look like that." Now I'm not all tan, I don't have long hair, my arms are a bit thinner, but put me naked in a pile of rose petals, and I think I'd pretty much look like that. What has obsessed me since the moment I first saw this picture and started reading all the positive comments about it (with a few de rigeur OMG she is so gross and unhealthy comments, full disclosure) is that lots of people like the look of Ms. Roses very much indeed. And that means...that lots of people might like the look of ME very much indeed. This is sort of earth-shattering to me.

I'd gotten used to the idea that I'm just not as attractive as I was in my early 20s, body-wise. I'm not the size 5-7 I was in my dancing days. I don't wear midriff-bearing tops anymore, or horizonal stripes, or tank tops by themselves without another shirt over them. I don't suffer from any sort of complex, I don't think, but I've grown accustomed to guys hitting on my thin friends and not me so much, to wearing dark colors, to beating myself up about not eating according to a diet and not hitting the gym every day (or any day, lately).

But Ms. Roses and the reactions to her have oddly given me some of my confidence back these days. Perhaps it's OK to look like I do. Perhaps I need to quit beating myself up so much, and quit comparing myself to every other woman I see. Perhaps if I think I look fine, everyone else will, too. Not to say I won't still try to eat healthily, or get to the gym more often, but maybe I can just do those things to feel good, not to try to conform to some supposed ideal.

So thank you, misogynistic Brazilian yogurt company, for throwing the ad campaign out there that caused the backlash that has given me some of my confidence back. I hope that's happened for many women out there, and I hope none of us ever buy into your bullshit tagline.

If I had to break the last few days down into undergrad course names, my listing might look like this:

-Interdisciplinary Idleness - In which I read, watched old films, and failed to clean the apartment or do laundry, even though I should have.

-Philosophy 101, with a focus on Altruism, Egoism and Aestheticism - Saturday morning I got myself up and the unheard of Saturday hour of 7:30 a.m., and headed down to the south side with my friend C, who had gotten me to volunteer with her on the Glass Slipper Project. I love this idea: providing dresses and accessories to low income students for their proms. It's a total sisterhood/empowerment thing. I was a personal shopper, which meant that I was paired up with a student and basically got to take her shopping through the donations. It was fun, but I was disappointed at the number and caliber of the plus-size dresses. My girl was a big girl, and so she had a pretty limited selection to choose from, and most of what was there was very matronly. It pissed me off (as usual) at the fashion industry. I know many Americans are overweight, I know some folks should lose weight, blah, blah, blah. I know clothes allegedly look better on slimmer women (I am not entirely convinced of this, though, designers). But you know what? It almost broke my heart that we couldn't find this sweet girl a dress because the fashion industry refuses to tap a market that's out there, like it or not. Next year I think I will try to buy some dresses from Torrid, a store I applaud for trying to make clothes for plus sizes that are cute instead of muu muus, to donate. Anyway, we didn't find a dress, but we did get her some cute accessories, and I told her she should also look into skirts/tops as a possibility. Because frankly, a dress is hard thing to have fit correctly, especially if you aren't a willowy, tall model type. At any rate, I was glad I volunteered, and I will totally do it again.

Afterward, I went along with C as she went shopping for flowers for her window and deck boxes. I got a little carried away with my camera phone.

( Unskilled Warholian technicolor flower pics )

-Music Appreciation - (I did actually take this class in college.) Saw The Kooks at the Metro Saturday night, and ladies and gentlemen, we have a strong contender for best gig of 2007. girlvii said she felt like she was at a circa 1994 Blur gig, and while I can't say I was at one of those (alas), I can say that the room Saturday night was electric. Here's a band that's getting almost no attention in the U.S., no media blitz, no radio or MTV play, and yet the gig was sold out and the whole crowd knew the words to most every song. The band was in fine form: high energy, skilled play, and the lead singer's voice so pure I thought to myself, a la Bing Crosby in White Christmas when that little choirboy sings that lovely tone, "Ah, those were the days." I love it when a band lives up to its hype. Go pick up their album now. Go on!

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the bus stop this morning. Something that hasn't happened to me in years, as I recall. I was catcalled. No mistaking that guy's "mmm MMM" after his friend told me good morning. My face was a picture of puzzlement after, as I kept walking without breaking stride.

Once upon a time, this happened to me often. It sort of came with the go-go territory. And of course in those days I was young, relatively skinny, and scantily clad now and then:



But now? Now, I've put on some pounds. And I work my day job, not a go-go vibe to be had for miles around. And of course I'm older...though I have been blessed with this babyfacedness:



(Of course I've chosen the most non-revealing pics I can, I sure can't show you some of the ones I have in which I am HUGE.)

So yes, I was surprised to get a comment (such as it was) on my appearance from a stranger. I very nearly stopped, turned around, and asked, "What is it, exactly, that you're mmm mmm-ing, sir?" I was genuinely curious. My self-esteem ain't what it used to be, in some respects.

This brings me to the inherent contradiction that catcalling brings to the surface for most women. It's demeaning and embarrassing, right? One doesn't want to deal with commentary on one's appearance from strange men ("Don't accept rides from strange men-and remember that all men are strange as hell." -Robin Morgan). One doesn't want to be reduced to one's mere appearance. There's a whole person here, buster, and you'd better be ready to deal with all of her. But...it is a compliment, too. Someone saw you and thought you looked good, and told you so. Much of my own confidence is tied up in my looks (the debate on whether or not confidence should be tied up in looks is moot, here, I am what I am). As such, the constant issue that I, and many women, I think, face, is this: What if you walk down the street and some guy catcalls you? But what if you walk down the street, and he doesn't?

Ah well. Thoughts to ponder. Off I go for the weekend...

Bush uses recess appointment to install Bolton as U.N. Ambassador. Hoo boy. G-Dub has once again ignored genuine concerns in favor of getting his man installed into a position. But this time, I think (hope) there's a difference. Recess appointments are a tricky business. Senators don't like being sidestepped like this. ALL Senators don't like being sidestepped like this, not just Dems. I think (hope) the Bush Machine has made a crucial error here which will lose it the support of Republican Senators (especially those pesky ones who were genuinely concerned with Bolton's credentials for this job) who are running to look up phrases like "checks and balances" and "balance of power".

Rick Santorum can't name any "radical feminists" other than Gloria Steinem. Ahem. *waves* Hey man, I'm doing my best to destroy the traditional fabric of this great nation, too! ;) More here, here, and here, a post which also discusses the fact that the Wisconsin legislature just passed a bill banning birth control dispensation on U of W campuses. And in NY, Pataki just vetoed a bill that would've allowed the morning after pill to be dispensed over the counter. Because, damn it, giving women options to prevent unwanted pregnancy is just encouraging them to be promiscuous! Oh thank you, wise State governments, for protecting us from ourselves! Jackasses. And, by the way, via Bitch Ph.D's post about the Santorum thing, here's a Gloria Steinem quote: "We also have to re-define work, so that the work of caring for children and doing human maintenance in the home is counted as productive work, has attributed value." Oh my! So radical!

Also of note today: Wendy McClure has an opinion piece in the Sun Times about those Dove ads. Money quote: "Men aren't obligated to consider every woman beautiful, or for that matter, to make every woman feel good about herself. But by the same token, nobody owes you a nice view, guys."

Well, now that there are lots of other places to which to link about this (because I would never want you to just read my opinion - I want you to read lots of opinions that are similar to mine!), I'm going to get into the Dove firming lotion ad fray. Personally, I dig the ads. I know they're selling a product, and I know Dove wants my money. I just have to applaud Dove for finally going about getting my money in the right way: Show me a model that looks more like me than the average stick-figure waif, and I'm more likely to at least consider buying your shit. Show me that some people on this earth consider healthy-looking women to be beautiful, instead of insisting we all try to attain Paris Hilton thinness. The ads aren't perfect, and they still present a somewhat idealized version of women, but I think they're a step in the right direction, as they show women who are thin and not-thin, of different races, and who all look pretty healthy.

Most people I've chatted with have found the ads to be good, and most guys I know seem to find the women attractive. It wasn't until I looked on craigslist that I saw that, as usual, guys (mostly) who were hiding behind their computers and not posting a damn thing that might identify them (or that might show that they're less-than-perfect themselves) were harshly critical of the ads, posting comments like, "get your fat ass to the gym" and "put down the fast food" in response, while women (again, mostly) were pretty supportive. But hey, I can blow off the idiots on craigslist, we all can (I usually do it by assuming they have no life away from their computers, and then I'm like, wait, I'm reading this crap, too).

Then the plot thickened.

Chicagoist has a nice round up of our local Chicago Dove controversy: It seems that uber-hotties (sarcasm alert) like Lucio Guerrero, Bill Zwecker and Richard Roeper, all of the Chicago Sun-Times, don't like the ads. Not only do they not like them, they made comments like "ads should be about beautiful people," that they want "more fantasy babes", called the ads "unsettling" and "disturbing", and called the women pictured "chunky."

Excuse me? First, I doubt you tools are Dove's target audience for these ads, so who gives a shit how you feel about them? Second, take a look in the fucking mirror, I don't see any perfection in your pictures. Third, I fail to see how a Sun-Times staff writer, a movie critic (your cry to be called a "columnist" notwithstanding, Roeper), and a secondhand celebrity gossip columnist get to set the standards of beauty for anyone.

But don't take my word as the final one on the subject. Check out what Wendy McClure has to say: "Like are there secret freaky Old Testament-style Jerk-Off Laws that prohibit getting off on 'real women' when they're served up on the same platter used for taut model fantasy fucktoys? I know these guys are talking out of their asses, but there's a whiff of righteous outrage coming out of there, too, and it's creepy." And how about Chicago Life's take: "Women in their underwear. It's not like they're morbidly obese or anything. Plus, underwear." Gapers Block: "Several male Sun-Times staffers made idiots of themselves today in expressing their opinions on Dove's Real Women, Real Curves ad campaign." Even Ms. has joined the discussion.

(And yes, I commented on each of those sites. My opinion is too big to be contained by my own journal! I'm spilling over into the comments of others' journals now! My diabolical plan for world domination is growing by leaps and bounds, isn't it?)