complaints, condescending twatbags, rants, sex, sexism, slut shamers

Pro-life men and fat shaming men have things in common…

This morning, I got a private message from someone who read my recent rant about pro-life men who make me want to hurl. I was surprised to get that message. As of this morning, that particular rant only has four views. However, it does have two likes, which is somewhat unusual for my blog. My posts, by and large, don’t get “likes” very often. 😉

The person who wrote to me indicated that she felt my post was “poignant”. I thought that was an interesting observation. Maybe it does seem poignant, though, that a middle-aged woman who has always had the right to choose would be so disgusted by men with “pro-life” attitudes. Very soon, the risk of pregnancy for me, personally, will no longer exist at all. So, if Roe v. Wade does get overturned, it won’t matter too much for me, at least not in terms of whether or not I would be forced to bear children. If the United States turned into an actual Gilead, as depicted in Margaret Atwood’s book, The Handmaid’s Tale, I would either be a wife or a “Martha”. Or maybe I’d just be a “working stiff” who wears grey. The bottom line is, my actual purpose– according to some men– will soon cease to exist. But, you know, even when I was still young, a lot of men didn’t think I was fulfilling my “purpose”. They probably felt like a vagina was wasted on me.

As I was reposting the two book reviews I added this morning, I watched the latest episode of Fundie Fridays on YouTube. The host, Jen, had a guest named Mickey Atkins on the show. Mickey is a social worker, like I would have been if I hadn’t become an “overeducated housewife”. The two of them were discussing Lori Alexander, aka “The Transformed Wife”. Lori Alexander, for those who don’t know, is a very controversial figure on social media. She believes that women’s sole purposes for being is to make babies and be housewives. I don’t generally pay a lot of attention to Lori’s posts, because I disagree with almost everything she says or writes, and I generally don’t think it’s productive to pay attention to her dumb comments. However, sometimes, when she says or writes something that is especially offensive, I will take note of it. I do casually follow Fundie Fridays, as well. I don’t watch it every week, but I do watch often enough. So, even though I think The Transformed Wife shouldn’t have a platform, I decided to listen to Jen and Mickey talk about her this morning as I multi-tasked.

This is yet another great video by Jen and James, and guest star, Mickey Atkins.

Listening to this video led me to look up things I have written about Lori Alexander. In the process of doing that, I ran across some old posts on my original blog about related subjects. It occurred to me, as I was reading, that men who “concern troll, and “fat shame” women, are a whole lot like the pro-life men who make me want to hurl. They REALLY have a lot in common. And, I also realized, that whether or not they know it, a lot of pro-life men and fat shaming men are probably motivated by the same thing… the desire to have sex with, and ultimately control, women. I think a lot of men are, deep down, offended by women who don’t do what society expects of them.

A lot of men think it’s a woman’s duty to be pretty, friendly, agreeable, and sweet. They think it’s her role to be willing to have sex with them– and only them. She is to turn them on and, when she gets pregnant, be willing to have their babies. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the man will feel like he needs to stick around and help raise the babies. It’s only that to be “good”, a woman is to be attractive and appealing. A smart woman with an opinion– especially if he doesn’t think she’s attractive– is offensive to a lot of men. And women who get pregnant, and then decide to reject the pregnancy, are repulsive to certain men.

Notice that I specified “certain men”. Not all men are like this. My husband, Bill, is not like this at all. He’s a kind, supportive, loving man who doesn’t mind that I’m overweight, opinionated, and often unlikable to other people. Bill loves me for who I am, not what I look like, and not just for my sex parts. I realize that I am extremely lucky, too. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I did. My husband is an absolute gem.

But I know from my past life, and even incidences from my current life, that not all women are nearly as lucky as I have been. Every once in awhile, I run into a guy who seems determined to remind me of what they think should be my place. I see them do it to other women, too. They firmly believe that women are here to entertain them, satisfy them, attract them, and serve them. They aren’t here to be someone in and of themselves.

So how did I come to this conclusion? It started with a post I wrote on my original blog about a group called “Overweight Haters, Ltd.” Back in 2015, a woman named Kara Florish was riding on The Tube in London when a middle-aged male stranger placed a business card on her lap.

The man quickly got off at the next stop and disappeared in the crowd, leaving Kara sitting there, stunned. Kara posted on Twitter, commenting:

“I am not upset myself. I am smaller than the national average and not exactly obese, but this is hateful and cowardly and could potentially upset people struggling with confidence and eating disorders. Please tweet and share this if you are also outraged. Plus – to the person who wrote this card, go back to school, you can’t spell ‘beautiful’.”

I didn’t actually write about this incident until several years later. Florish wasn’t the only one who got a card from this vile group. In another article from The Guardian from 2015, it was reported that another commuter, a man named Sean Thomas Knox, witnessed a woman getting one of the cards. According to the article:

“Young man just got on train at Oxford Circus, gave printed card saying YOU’RE FAT to overweight girl. He jumped off. She read it, [and] cried.

“Am 99.9% sure this wasn’t staged. She didn’t even realise I was watching at first. Her stunned, desolate reaction was very real. Then tears.”

Knox described the man who handed over the card as a “hipster.. smartly, trendily dressed” with a beard. “Perhaps it was a piece of conceptual art,” he tweeted 

“It lasted a few seconds, but the card in that photo [Florish’s] is the same card I saw, in the girl’s hand. And her shock was real.”

I’ve seen a lot of comments fat shaming men leave for women online, too. They often couch their opinions as “concern” for women’s health. But, when it really comes down to it, I think men are less concerned about health as they are their own sex drives. A lot of them seem to think it’s a woman’s duty to be pretty for them, so they will want to have sex with them. And then, once they have sex, if the woman gets pregnant, she should want to have the baby. To not have the baby is to reject the man. A lot of pro-life men simply can’t deal with that kind of rejection. It’s a terrible assault on their egos. Notice, too, that a lot of pro-life men– especially those who are religious– also pressure women to be pleasing to them and pretty, but not sexy or, heaven forbid, slutty. Slutty women end up as handmaids, you know… or they work at Jezebel’s. 😉

Think I’m way off base on this? Consider something that happened to me back in February 2018. I read an article about a woman who had given birth to a baby girl she named Parker. The woman then left the newborn infant outside in the cold. Parker later died. Her mother was arrested and charged with murder, which was eventually reduced to a conviction of manslaughter.  She was sentenced to nine years in prison.

For some reason, a man decided that the comment section was a good place to rail against abortion, even though this story had NOTHING to do with abortion. He pointed out that had the mom aborted Parker, people would be applauding her choice. A lot of women responded to him, including yours truly. I dared to tell him that I didn’t think men really needed to chime in on this issue, since it’s never their lives or health on the line when someone gets pregnant. A few days later, I got a private message from someone who was looking for advice on apartments in Alsace. After I responded to the PM, I noticed I had another one from a “stranger” named Jason. Jason wrote this to me:

For some reason, a lot of men think the worst thing a woman can be is “fat”. So they add that to the word, “cunt”, to be as insulting as they can possibly be…

Interesting that Jason, who is presumably “pro-life”, doesn’t realize that I used to be someone’s developing fetus. And yet, he felt the need to invite me to commit suicide. Sadly, when I complained about this to Facebook, they said there was “nothing they could do about it.” However, I’ve been “on restriction” all month for writing a comment that referred to “dumb Americans”. Go figure.

Now, I’m not going to tell you that I enjoy being referred to as a “cunt”. It’s not a nice word. And no, I don’t like it when people call me “fat”, because I know that’s basically akin to “ugly” in some people’s opinions. Nobody likes to be insulted. On the other hand, I am already married to a wonderful guy who doesn’t think I’m a “fat cunt”, and would be devastated if I died. But this comment did make me realize that Jason must be very, very frustrated by women who aren’t afraid to speak their minds, and would happily deny them, both access to their cunts, and respect for their views. You see, my guess is that Jason isn’t gay. He probably really enjoys having sex with women. And a lot of women have probably denied him sex. At the same time, he’s presumably here because some woman had sex and got pregnant. He probably passed through his mother’s “cunt” when he was born. So he actually owes everything to a cunt, doesn’t he? But he thinks that as a man, he should have power over women. A woman who tells him to STFU is very threatening and offensive. So he calls me a vile word and advises me to kill myself. Makes a lot of sense, right?

As a woman, I have been sexually harassed by men, even though I don’t think I’m conventionally “beautiful”. It started on the playground when I was a little girl, when little boys would try to make me give them some “sugar” (I grew up in the South in the early 80s, and that was a euphemism for kissing). It continued as I got older, when bigger boys would grab me and try to touch me or kiss me, and when the neighborhood pervert, who referred to himself as “The Home of the Whopper”, showed me pornography. Then, it continued when boys would make comments about my body– negative or positive– or try to humiliate me with cruel jokes and pranks. In college, I remember meeting a guy at a party, and within a couple of hours, he was trying to stick his tongue down my throat. I was shocked and horrified, and I asked him to stop. He then proceeded to treat me like I had given him blue balls or something.

I got harassed when I lived in Armenia by men who exposed themselves to me. It happened three times that I can remember. I was lucky. I knew a woman who was harassed and violently assaulted. She had to go into the hospital. On a trip to Turkey, a man felt my legs as I tried on shoes that I desperately needed. Another man grabbed my breast when I was trying to find a bathroom. Not two hours later, when I was changing clothes, a different man came into the dressing room, called me “sexy, and asked me to come with him. The female friend who was traveling with me was also harassed, although she wore men’s shoes and had shaved her head. The trip, which was mostly amazing, culminated when we got stuck on the border with Georgia and the customs manager propositioned me. And no, I wasn’t looking sexy. I had on shorts, a t-shirt, and wore no makeup. He still wanted to have sex with me… and, of course, that was ALL he wanted. He thought I would give it to him, because I’m an American woman, and women from the USA are supposedly “loose”. I was a virgin at the time.

A couple of years later, when I was back in the States, I worked at a country club. One of the members, a guy named J.J., was notorious for hitting on all of the women who worked at the club. It didn’t matter if the female he was targeting was a minor who was still in high school, or if it was the matronly dining room manager who was in her 60s. None of us were spared his attentions. One day, he followed me into the linen closet, which unfortunately was in the men’s locker room. Thinking the locker room was empty, I had gone in there to get tablecloths and napkins. He cornered me, and tried to paw at my breasts and kiss me. It was absolutely appalling, and yes, I said “No”.

And… I have also been fat shamed by men. It started with comments from my father, who would tell me that no man would find me attractive (he also didn’t like my outspoken personality and vulgar language). He would touch me and tell me I had “fat” I needed to lose. Sometimes, he called me names, like “hog”, or referred to me as “retarded”. As I got older, some men would body shame me. It happened a lot in Armenia. I would get stopped by strangers on the street trying to sell me Herbalife, or they would flat out tell me I was “fat”. But it also happened in the United States, or on vacations. Regular readers of my blog might remember when I wrote about the man on SeaDream I who was surprised by my pretty singing voice and said to Bill, “Now I can see why you’d love her.” He made similarly disgusting comments about women, revealing the attitude that he felt like it was a woman’s duty to be beautiful and available to him. And if she wasn’t those things, he could call her a “fat cow” (he literally referred to his late wife in this way– she had just died of breast cancer).

Some men, especially in the military community, are very offended by smart, opinionated women, especially if they’re considered “fat” or not pretty enough. I’ve gotten tons of shit over the name of this blog by men in the military community, as well as some rather clueless women. One time, a military man commented on a blog post I wrote that was shared on Facebook. He wrote, “Ugh. I hope she at least has children.” WTF, guy? I responded that I didn’t have children, and I would be very happy to tell him why I didn’t, if he really wanted to know the gory details.

Frankly, I think it’s probably a burden to be really attractive to men. I remember another incident, back when I was in my late 20s and thinner and prettier than I am now. I was at a bar, and one of my co-workers, who was slim and pretty, was dancing to music. We were friends, but hadn’t come to the bar together. A guy tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to look at him, and he asked me if my co-worker was with anyone. Obviously, he’d spotted her and wanted to meet her, presumably because she was very attractive. But instead of asking her, he approached me, the less threatening “fat friend”. I think I told him that we hadn’t come together and if he wanted to talk to her, he should man up and talk to her. I’m not her “fat friend”, there to help some guy score.

Lori Alexander, who thinks that women need to stay home and pump out babies for their husbands, also fat shames women. She says that it’s a woman’s duty to be pleasing to her man. And if her man thinks she’s too fat, she needs to do something about it. And she needs to let him have sex with her, no matter what… even if it happens while she’s trying to sleep or isn’t feeling well. In that sense, I guess she’s in agreement with famously pro-life mom, Michelle Duggar, who told her daughter, Jill, to be “joyfully available” to her new husband, Derick. The year after the public heard about this advice, the news came out that Jill was one of four of the Duggar daughters who were molested by their eldest brother, Josh. We all know where Josh is right now. Mr. “Pro-Life” father of seven is currently sitting in a jail cell, awaiting sentencing for receiving and possessing images of child sexual abuse… and some of the female children being abused were in diapers!

Josh wanted to save developing fetuses, but he didn’t mind looking at those same, precious babies being abused for his own sexual gratification.

So yeah… I think guys who would like to deny women the right to bodily autonomy are, by and large, not interested in protecting babies. A lot of those guys wouldn’t bother to stick around if a woman got pregnant out of wedlock, and they certainly don’t want more of their paychecks going to providing social welfare safety nets. These guys– Josh Duggar especially– use women for their own gratification and then condemn them as “sluts”. They are repulsed by women they see as sloppy and out of control, whether the lack of control is regarding food or sex. And so, if you pay close attention, you see that a lot of fat shamers and pro-life males respond to women in very similar ways. They have a LOT in common!

I think, deep down, most of these pro-life, hyper-religious, fat shaming guys are obsessed with sex, and controlling women. They hate that a woman has the power to do something they can’t do, and a lot of them are offended when a woman has the nerve to have a vagina, but doesn’t do enough to be attractive. Or, worse, she’s attractive, but denies him access to her vagina. Or she gives him access, but then doesn’t want to accept the grand gift of his sperm, which created a developing fetus. Remember… the vast majority of us owe our lives to a woman and her vagina.

I’ll leave you with one last anecdote. A couple of days ago, I read a Facebook post about the 1987 film, Dirty Dancing, which was released when I was 15 years old. A lot of people forget that the reason why “Baby” has to learn to “dirty dance” is because Johnny Castle’s partner got “knocked up” by Robby, the asshole waiter. She had an illegal abortion, which made her very sick. The poster pointed out that the film was a reminder of what could be at stake if women in the United States lose access to abortion. One commented wrote this:

What is the script was flipped? What if Robby was a loving caring father that wanted the baby, but Penny knew that if she had the baby, her life would change, and she didn’t want that? Robby would have no legal say in it, and would be forced to see his child killed. Not all guys are douchebags. And not all women are angels. If a person, male or female, doesn’t think they can handle being a parent, then don’t take the risk of it happening.

Naturally, I had to respond. I didn’t even address the fact that this dude used the term “douchebag”, which is, in and of itself, a very offensive and sexist pejorative. Who uses douchebags? It’s not men who use them; it’s women. And, in fact, we aren’t repelled by “douchebags” so much as what comes from using them– the residual nasty smelling stuff from a woman’s private area. It’s the “waste” that is repellant. Personally, I consider the term “douchebag” to be akin to calling a woman a “cunt”, but since that was the term the guy used, I went with it in my response to this hypothetical “loving, caring father” who would be “crushed” that his child would be killed by heartless Penny.

If you don’t understand that it wouldn’t be Robby’s health or life on the line, and you think another person should be compelled to stay pregnant for someone else’s sake, then yes, you ARE a “douchebag” (not that I would use that term). Guys who want to be fathers should find women who want to have babies with them.

It’s as simple as that, folks.

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What if “Dick” had found me attractive?

“I ain’t done bad” either, but I ain’t no Fancy Rae Baker…

Remember Reba McEntire’s 1990 hit song, “Fancy”? It was about woman who was raised “poor white trash” whose mama bought her a dancing dress and sent her out on the streets to find herself a man. That song, oddly enough, is in my head this morning as I consider the reactions I got to yesterday’s post about “Dick”, the guy who insinuated that the only the reason Bill loves me is because I can sing. I was thinking about the triumphant ending of the song, where Fancy describes all she’s had and all she’s done, despite her impoverished upbringing. She said, “I ain’t done bad.”

I remember when “Fancy” was a hit. I was a freshman at Longwood College. My friends and I used to laugh at this song. One of my male friends said, “Hit the streets, Fancy! We ain’t got any money!” My parents didn’t tell me to hit the streets, but when I turned 18, they were definitely ready for me to GTFO on my own. I was their last kid and they welcomed having an empty nest. So off I went, and I didn’t date much until I was in my late 20s. When I met Bill, I was in graduate school, convinced that I would never marry. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend and he, having just separated from his ex wife, wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. But I guess it was just meant to be.

There were a few guys who expressed an interest in dating me, but a lot of them were simply friends. They liked my sense of humor, but I didn’t “ring their chimes.” Consequently, I didn’t date a lot of guys. It’s true, I had a fairly boring young adulthood. I wasn’t dating much, like my pretty older sisters did. But I also didn’t wind up with memories of bad break ups, like they did. I found a guy I liked, who also liked me, and married him. Honestly, I think I’m lucky it turned out that way. Who wants to be saddled with memories of dating selfish jackasses like “Dick”? Besides, I really don’t think I’m ugly. Are you surprised? I never understood why dating a lot of people was so important anyway.

Bill didn’t marry me just because I can sing. Bill didn’t even hear me sing until I’d already “hooked” him with my writing skills and creative use of profanity. He was attracted to me because of my mind, not my body. 😀 I used to write kinky stories, and Bill was a fan of them. We happen to like the same kind of stuff, so we’re sexually compatible. But we also chatted online before he ever read my stories. He liked me even then– before he’d even seen my face, heard me sing, or listened to my cackle. You know why? Because he’s not a shallow fuck, and he values people for qualities beyond what he sees on the outside. I am extremely blessed to have him for that reason alone.

My husband treats me with dignity and respect, and he loves me for many things beyond just my physical appearance. That means that as we both inevitably get older and uglier, we’ll probably stay together and maybe even live longer. Sure, he also loves my boobs and my big blue eyes. He loves my smile, too. The point is, he thinks my whole package is beautiful, and that’s enough– for him and for me. So, what guys like “Dick” think doesn’t matter, although like anyone else, I don’t enjoy being insulted. What he said was an insult to my pride, but the truth is, I wouldn’t have been interested in “Dick”, anyway. I’m not attracted to abusive assholes, and thank GOD for that.

Boy, do I relate to this… although people don’t hit on Bill in front of me. My resting bitch face probably helps discourage them. I do think some might wonder why Bill finds me attractive, though.

Yesterday’s post got a lot of comments, many of which came from people who very kindly offered me consolation. I suppose it’s natural that people would console me for being subjected to “Dick’s” tone deaf comment that implied the only thing attractive about me is my singing voice. I do appreciate the kind comments, but the truth is, I got over “Dick’s” shitty comment years ago. I mean, who cares what he thinks? I guess if I have any regrets about that incident, it’s that I wasn’t quick enough to offer a devastatingly witty retort.

The incident I wrote about yesterday happened in 2011. It’s now 2020, and look at my life. I live in a safe, beautiful country with a man who loves and supports me. I have traveled to interesting places and made a lot of friends. I’ve paid off my student loans and have minimal debts. I’m basically healthy (as far as I know), and I don’t have any lingering reminders of past lovers, like herpes or HIV. I do whatever I want every day, and no one cares if I wear makeup, a bra, or can give them a good blow job. I have a comfortable, privileged lifestyle… and the fact that we were even on a SeaDream ship, or ANY ship, is proof positive that we’re doing alright. As I commented to jono51 yesterday, “I live pretty well for a ‘fat and ugly woman’, no?”

Imagine, though, what my life would be like with a guy like “Dick” finding me attractive. I’ve often thought that really beautiful women must have to deal with a lot of stupid shit from horny guys who can’t help hitting on beautiful women. When you’re very physically attractive, you will attract a lot of people. A few of those people might be high quality folks, but a lot of them will probably be guys like “Dick”, who are simply interested in what they see on the outside. Guys like “Dick” are thoughtless and self-centered, and as their conquests inevitably age, they almost always lose interest. Then the pretty lady, if she’s not herself like “Dick”, will often be cast aside for a younger, sexier model. That sucks, doesn’t it?

If I had married or even dated a guy like “Dick”, I would probably be on the receiving end of daily insults. I imagine that he would express disappointment whenever I ate something he didn’t approve of, especially if I also gained weight. “Dick” would probably want me to dress up and wear makeup for him, and he’d be interested in showing me off to like-minded shallow people, trying to impress them. He’d likely expect me to pleasure him sexually whenever he felt like it, and he probably wouldn’t be a very generous lover to me. He’d eventually get tired and resentful of my needs, since beauty and health inevitably fades. Seriously… this guy was calling his dead wife a “cow” for getting breast cancer and dying! Imagine what kinds of things he said to her when she was living! I didn’t mention it yesterday, but “Dick” also made disparaging comments about other people, not just on the cruise, but whole groups of people who didn’t fit his narrow world view. So why would what he says matter?

I’ve written this story before, but because it’s pertinent today, I’m going to briefly share it again. Back in the late 1990s, I was probably at my physically most attractive in my lifetime, outside of babyhood. I’d lost a significant amount of weight and was dressing well, wearing makeup, and even getting my hair cut professionally (which I pretty much never do). I had started going out at night, often by myself. One evening I went to a bar in Williamsburg, Virginia. A bunch of my co-workers were there, including my friend Arielle, who was slim and pretty. I hadn’t come to the bar with my work pals, but as we were all there at the same time and basically friendly, we were hanging out at the same table.

Take note. I’m not a cock or vagina blocking friend… If you want to talk to a woman, go ahead and talk to her. Don’t talk to me.

Christina Aguilera’s song, “Genie in a Bottle” was playing, and Arielle started dancing. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and there was this strange guy standing there. He said he’d noticed me talking to Arielle was curious to find out if she had come to the bar with me. He wanted to know if she was “alone”. I suspect he thought I was Arielle’s “fat friend”.

I might be big and fat, but I’m not the “big fat friend”. And I really don’t care if you get laid. Knock yourself out, if you can convince her to go home with you, and please spare me the “non-discriminating friend” who will fuck anything.

I probably gave him a weird look because I’m not Arielle’s keeper. I mean, Arielle was and still is a friend, but I’m not a cock or vagina blocker. We weren’t there together, but even if we were, he was interested in her, not me. The guy had seen Arielle, thought she was pretty, and decided that he wanted to approach her. But he didn’t want to be shot down, so he approached me instead. The unspoken message to me was, “I don’t think you’re cute, but I like your friend. So please help me meet her so I can get laid… or whatever…” And why should I help you? We don’t even know each other, and frankly, you aren’t that cute, either. Asking a stranger about the dating status of another stranger you think is “cute” is creepy and weird. Fortunately, that guy didn’t get anywhere with Arielle. She has also found a guy she likes, married him, and has a beautiful son. I suspect her appearance isn’t the only thing her husband admires about her, either.

Yep… Bill and I are in love, in spite of ourselves. And in spite of my beer gut and witch’s laugh.

Anyway, just like Fancy, I feel like “I ain’t done bad,” even if the “Dicks” of the world don’t think I’m pretty enough to lay, let alone marry. You know what? I’m glad “Dick” and his ilk think I’m a fat troll. My husband finds me lovable, and that’s enough for me. I don’t need to impress guys like “Dick” or anyone else. I’m not even interested in anyone else, even if I don’t enjoy being insulted, pitied, or getting backhanded compliments. I don’t so much as get crushes anymore, even if I notice a guy is cute. And I don’t think I’d like to be “Dick’s” wife or girlfriend. But, like I said, despite being “fat and ugly”, I ain’t done bad. So deal with that, Rambo.

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