When I wrote Feminist Bikini last week I knew I had the perfect photo for the post. You may recall the photo of the girl I flirted with at the sand bar so I'd remember my place to come back to? Did it attract your attention or skepticism? Women, how did you feel when you thought about your ass compared to that piece of one?
But then I started thinking about one of the rules for life that I try to live by: you can't complain if you have no skin in the game. If I want to feel credible with myself, then I need to man (!?) up and put my skin in the game. Literally.
So here it is. Do you think I'm fat?
Every woman I know wants assurance that she looks good. The question is so basic that it has become a running joke. A husband's wrong answer can have him end up in the doghouse...and just about any answer he gives will be the wrong one.
Sister(-i-l) says I'm a braver woman than her. Mother fears the permanence of the internet. And she has a point. One of my only photos on the internet will be this one. Take that Google facial recognition!
One of the gifts of being past the age of reproduction is the freedom to no longer worry about attracting a mate. Not that I don't care how I look, but more than that I only care to be with someone who sees and cares for me below the surface. This photo will establish a pretty high benchmark to meet, right?
So dear Reader, will you answer my question, "Do I look fat?"