Shaky Egg

(also on my myspace page)

We’re finally getting a Hooters.

I feel like what puts a city on the map as a part of the civilized world is a Target store. My husband feels the same way about Hooters. Yes, he only goes there for the wings.

I don’t know how I feel about Hooters.

In principle I think any business which hires only women to be service staff and asks them to wear some sort of cutesy clothing is exploitative and perpetuates stereotypes and perceptions our society doesn’t need.

In reality though… people can do what they want. Maybe the waitresses are making tons of money that will help them get through college. Maybe they’re having a fantastic time and lots of wonderful high quality socializing and bonding is going on there.

I don’t have boobie insecurity either… As a married matron and a mother, I think I can reasonably get away with saying that I have a fine pair, at least I think I do anyway, at least when they are hiked up in proper foundation garments.

Most guys look. Why shouldn’t we be honest about that? It’s not the same as actually being disloyal to the woman they truly love. It’s sort of like how women slaver over adorable and overpriced clothes at the baby store or the designer boutique, with no intention of purchasing. We look, it looks nice, we move on.

Wait a minute… wait a minute. No, it’s not.

You know what?

Women’s bodies are their property. Our bodies, regardless of gender, are our property. The opposite sex has no business judging.

I have become very sick of how judgmental our society is of bodies, especially when real bodies are nothing like that standard (unless it’s via lipo, plastic surgery, and implants, or just a very very rare genetic combination).

I don’t know why we can’t glorify breasts that have breastfed, or tummies that have birthed babies, or bodies that are healthy rather than just adding up to some kind of arbitrary measurement.

You know that automatic, reflex thought I think guys, okay all of us, have, due to evolution, whenever we meet someone for the first time? In a barely perceptible flash we decide whether that new person is either worthy of procreation or he or she is not. I believe it roughly translates to, I’d do her. Or, he would probably make great babies (no we do not actually think it in those words!! most of the time, anyway) or no dang way.

In reality, this is how we are. We’re human, with the entire spectrum of civilization and reptile brain that comes with it. We need to be honest about it, not be too hard on ourselves about it, realize that it’s one in an entire minefield of factors we use to choose mates, and move on.

But in principle and also in reality, when we look at someone’s body and, whether intentionally or not, judge it for its suitedness for procreative activity (with or without procreation), whether we find it beautiful or not, we are completely out of bounds. Completely. It’s that sort of willingness to define someone else that is part and parcel of abusive thoughtways (I love me some Patricia Evans).

And furthermore, guy who is putting down some woman for having a body you wouldn’t sleep with, who fucking asked you? Whether that body, or that pair, pleases you or not, do you think you’re on, or could ever get on, the list of procreatory invitees? Please.

You might… you might not… but keep your judgement to yourself, until you have grown to know someone as a person. One’s body belongs to oneself, and oneself only.

Signed, your postfeminist friend, who has slightly procreatory pictures on her myspace page, so sue me,

shaky