Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman-the Trinity of DC Comics. Or at least that's what everyone says. In reality, it's more like The Couple, and not the boy-on-girl kind. Superman and Batman have always been more popular than their female counterpart. Why is that exactly?
Take a minute and think about Wonder Woman. What comes to mind? Most likely a strong, beautiful woman with a colorful costume. Comic book fans know her as the daughter of Amazons, born from clay of Themyscira itself and sent into the world of men. She prays to Greek gods and goddesses (and sometimes fights them) and is a member of the Justice League of America. But tons, and I mean TONS, of non-comic readers love Wonder Woman because of what she's come to represent.
When there's a song by an artist named Mann, you know there's going to be some gender divide in the lyrics.
And this R&B singer doesn't disappoint, as his single "Text" talks all about how "his female" is freaky deeky when it comes to sending come-hither messages via cell phone.
The song is all about the wonders of text message sex, as well as how cellies are great tools in getting it on quickly--"Hit me wit a text," Jason Derülo sings, "It could go down, hit me, and I'll be around." Ah, hook-up buddies at their finest.
Now there's nothing wrong with having someone who's up for sex whenever on your speed dial as long as both parties consent, but Mann isn't really respectful in the way he describes his partner throughout the tune.
Ladies, how many hours a day would you all say we spend fretting about our looks? 23? 75? And of those hours, what percentage are we focused primarily on our fatty fatness--real or imaginary? 100 percent? That's what I thought.
I just signed up for a boot camp group fitness outdoors-y class with a group of other writerly women. This is way out of character for me for two reasons. One, I don't like group activities that don't involve alcohol, and two, I don't like the outdoors unless it's a patio with a bar.
So why am I doing this, you ask? Well, I really like these girls, so there's that, but also, a long winter of whiskey-fueled karaoke, stress and moving three times has left me feeling a wee bit bloated, and although I practice Baptiste Power Vinyasa Yoga regularly, I feel like a major jump start to my metabolism might help my pants feel more comfortable venturing away from my hips and waist on their own ... like grown-up pants.
And yet, I can't help but think about the time it will take me to drive to the boot camp location, exercise, drive back and shower and how much better that time could be spent, say, writing a novel or creating a sculpture made entirely of cat fur and hair bands. And when I look at that time over the past however many years I have been alive and exercising, and then add in all the time I have spent worrying about and convincing myself and hemming and hawing and feeling guilty about not exercising, well, it's kind of totally fucked-up how much time I have devoted to the idea of fitness.
Anyway, here is a list of careers I realized I could have totally excelled at had I not been spending my entire fucking life worried about how my butt looked in jeans. Thank you society. I hate you.
I imagine I would have been able to navigate by the stars, tack to the port side (I just made that up), and keel haul a cabin boy like nobody's business if I wasn't busy trying to hold in my tummy while wearing a bikini top and sailor shorts.
A couple weeks ago, I asserted that feminists can still shave their legs. As a feminist leg-shaver, and generally as a lady who hates it when women are told what to do and not do with their bodies, I'm dismayed by hyper-policing of any aspect of female appearance, whether we're talking burqa or bikini wax.
Even if it's done with the best and most thoughtful of intentions--and many times, it is--I just can't get behind shaming and blaming women for their beauty practices, or lack thereof. Whether women are being told not to shave their legs, or not to wear a burqa, they're still being told how to be. How to be "right." Or "proper." Or "feminist." Who has a right to tell women what they should be doing with any aspect of their bodies?
Classic comedy fans, rejoice! The inimitable Joan Rivers has a documentary coming out about her life and work (and her life's work) and it promises to be a revealing look at the method behind her badass madness.
Now, I have a very particular way I like to enjoy my Joan--cocktail in hand, What Becomes A Legend Most? on the record player, dim lighting--but it looks like the film, A Piece of Work is going to be an excellent way to get to know Ms Rivers:
Kansas, Oklahoma, Florida and Louisana have passed or are considering atrociously restrictive anti-choice laws over the past week, and perhaps coincidentally, there were several letters in my stable of favored advice columns dealing with the difficult subject. This week, we have two Sad Bastards: "Better a baby than ... leprosy" in Dear Carolyn and "Cheryl's Fiance" in Dear Abby.
"Cheryl's Fiance" has been shut out by his lady's sister, who is angry that Cheryl got an abortion:
In addition to being the shockingest, aweingest bunch of blower-uppers in the world, the United States military is also comprised of pop fans with all kinds of free time and audiovisual equipment, as evidenced by the Afghanistan-stationed troops' remake of Lady Gaga's "Telephone" video and now, a Ke$ha interpretation. Oh, yes, friends, I speak the truth to you.
Let the U.S. Air Force teeth-brushing with a bottle of Jack begin:
Bon matin, Dolls! Here's hoping your horse won on Saturday, your basketball team is winning, and you finally found a good sushi place over the weekend. The world, as it were, was also busy spinning 'round, and the ladynews keep a-coming. Here's what happened:
Iran gets a spot on U.N. women's rights panel. [VancouverSun] In related news, Dr. Hannibal Lecter has been appointed to a position at the FDA.
Florida passes law forcing women to pay for an ultrasound before an abortion. [MiamiHerald] Also marks first time in history anyone or anything has aspired to be anything like Oklahoma. So there's that.
Pregnant women need more vitamin D. [CNN] Technology facilitating the remote diagnosis of millions of women strangely unreported upon by CNN.
Do women need gender-tailored financial advice? [SeattleTimes] I DON'T KNOW I AM BUT A LADY HERE I TO TO BUY SOME SHOOEEEEEEEZZZZZZ.
Tiger Woods slept with 121 women. [MoneyTimes] Technology facilitating the remote calculation of sexual partners of massive celebrities also apparently not newsworthy.
It's "Women Build Week" at Habitat for Humanity. [Examiner] Sit down, get a glass of water and smelling salts if you, like most every news outlet reporting on this story, are in shocked disbelief.
We've covered the embarrassing childhood photos already, but have you ever looked back at seemingly normal photos and really thought about the fashion trends you were participating in? Have you considered 10, maybe 20, years too late that leggings paired with a XL white foil-printed T-shirt weren't exactly flattering to that last smidge of baby fat and the swollen mosquito bites you refused to sheath with a pre-teen's first bra? Or that a Liz Claiborne purse with Nike trainers, a blazer and acid-washed tapered jeans probably wasn't the ideal outfit in which to campaign for 8th grade president?
I have. Because I just looked at my middle school yearbooks.
What follows are some personal mistakes and some offered by friends and family. All made in middle school. All regrettable. Some will rear their ugly heads again, I'm sure. Fortunately, not on my--or any of your--6th to 9th grade bodies.
10. Z. Cavaricci, or any fad pants, really
Why did I succumb to the peer pressure on this one? With my grandmother's ample thighs and a torso way longer than my legs, I still rallied against the logic of "classic pieces that flatter" and donned not only tapered, but pleated trousers...with a yolk. WTF, Cavaricci. Maybe TV's Brian Austin Green could pull these off back then, but I couldn't...and sorry, friends, neither could any girl in my middle school. Also, looking back, forest green was an awful choice. Let's go ahead and throw Girbaud "x-front" jeans with the slanty pockets into the fire here, too. Because baggy all the way down was just as bad when a yoke was involved. Jnco, you may also consider yourself served.
9. [Insert Vacation Spot] Polo Club clothing
Remember that time you went to the beach or some shit with your family and you got that shirt that said Denver Polo Club or Boston Polo Club or South Padre Polo Club because it had that neat green and red logo with the horse man on it and it looked like those shirts from that fancy Beverly Hills company? And remember how you never visited a polo club while you were on vacation?
"If they don't ask, I won't tell!" -- that's what my drinking buddy Joe just said about this video from some troops stationed in Afghanistan who apparently had some free time to re-make Lady Gaga and Beyonce's "Telephone" video.
Men in uniform dancing: you know you want it. After the jump!