Why are men sooooo obsessed with: BIG (fake) BOOBS?

Skyler has her WTF Wednesday? thing.  I've decided I am going to start my own little series sets.  I have a few ideas: SEX 101 ("how to" discussions on things like anal, blow jobs, etc)... Fantasies (what are they, and should they remain fantasies or are they things we actually want to and should act on) ... Chick Porn (the good, the bad, and the ugly)... Why are women soooo obsessed with: ... and this one, Why are men sooooo obsessed with:...

TOM (The Old Man, or the Talented Old Man) and I were in a frozen yogurt place last week and this girl walked in with a 24 inch waste and HUGE boobies.  CLEARLY an aftermarket upgrade.  Tom couldn't take his eyes off her.  I think I was worse.  I couldn't stop watching her.  I was totally intrigued.  She was stunning...  Great body...  Gorgeous hair...  Well dressed in casual summer wear...  But you could NOT miss the big fake boobies.  NOBODY could miss the big fake boobies.

Now don't misunderstand, I'm not a "keep it natural" kind of girl.  Hell, my hair has been every color in the book at various points in life, and if I had the money I would totally partake in some medical upkeep and maintenance.  I mean, if the technology is there, why not take advantage of it to make yourself look and feel better?  (For the record, Joan Rivers does NOT look better.  Someone needed to cut her off YEARS ago.)  What is chiropractic care or a massage or a facial but better living through "medical" care?  Plastic surgery is just a very expensive step in that direction.   

My thought has always been that the idea of plastic surgery was to enhance what nature gave you and/or to give you a little self-image boost.  Boob job?  Ya, why not?  I have a friend who was a A-cup who boosted things to a C-cup.  It totally improved her figure and she will never fail the "pencil test" (which, I confess, makes me a little jealous).  Anyway, totally for it, but I have never understood the "I'm a stripper/penthouse model wanna-be/ hoochie mamma" look.  I mean, why would this naturally beautiful women do this to herself?

So I asked him.  Why are men sooooo obsessed with big (fake) boobs?  

He asked me if he really had to answer. 

"Yes Dear."  

To start, he wanted to clarify that pretty much ALL boobs turned him on, regardless of size.

"Yes dear.  Your ass is covered.  Now please move on to the question at hand."

Quick summary:  Women with big boobs know they get looked at... a lot.  It started as kids when the girl with boobs was just an anomaly and boys were curious and anything got them hard... and then she probably realized the damn things and the staring gave her power... which led to self-confidence.  Bottom line: Better self-confidence =  a better lay... and guys are always looking for a good lay. 

Damn, this makes sense. 

So I asked, "But why Super-Size them... isn't that just over-kill?"

He pointed out that if you want that power, and you want to get stared at, why not really make it obvious?  That's the point right?  Draw attention?  And... you don't really pay more, so no harm-no foul on the checkbook, you might as well get your money's worth.

"Now I don't think ALL women have augmentation because of some secret 'look at me'  narcissistic need, but , at least for the women I know who have had it done, they don't NOT want to be looked at.  The women I know who have had it done are usually pretty proud to show off 'the work.'"

Again, I could see his point.   

Borderline misogyny?  Damn, they are going to take my chick card away for buying in to this aren't they?  Well, maybe not away, but I'm definitely going to get dinged points.

~Austin.

HOLY COW... We're famous!   HUFFINGTON POST ARTICLE    I like this girl's style!

WTF Wednesday: Part 1

It is time for a new feature here at FU... WTF Wednesday. A weekly opportunity to recount those situations that left you saying WHAT THE FUCK? Your WTF's can be rhetorical, factual, hypothetical, new, or old. So let's start.

Over the weekend, I met up with a few friends at a neighborhood bar to do some scheming, plotting, and planning. There were two women sitting at the end of the bar and they were quite inebriated. (Mind you, this is at about 5 in the afternoon.) I would say the one was probably in her early 20's and the other was in her early 40's. Both were relatively good looking and dressed pretty typically for this bar district which is to say, pretty skimpy, but not totally over the top. At one point, the younger one spins around on her bar stool, nearly toppling over, and says to one of the men that was with us in a heavy, heavy slur: Caaan I aasssskkk ya sumthin? We didn't realize she was talking to any of us at first.  She then gives him a tap on the shoulder (his back had been to her) and says again more loudly, Sssssorrreeeee sssorreeee, but can I asssssk ya sumthin? He awkwardly laughs and says sure.  She then bellows ARE YOU SATISSSSSIFED SESHUALLY? We all lost it at that point. He managed to deflect and distract her by pointing out her drink was dripping all over the floor.

Come to find out from the bartender after they not-so-gracefully exit stage right, that the pair are a MOTHER-DAUGHTER ESCORT TEAM. No. Wait. Read it again. Mother and daughter working as escorts TOGETHER. How does THAT work? Whose idea was it? What the hell is wrong with people? If you want to play in the escort biz, whatever, fine, but with your own mother? Um, no. Just no.

What. The. Fuck.

What has you puzzling this week? 

XO, Skyler

What's Your Type?

Several years ago, a friend told me that within a 30-second survey of a crowded room, she could pick out exactly who I would be interested in. And she was right. If there was a six foot tall, blonde with blue eyes, All-American, football-loving, domestic-beer-drinking guy, with any kind of education stumbling around, I would be all over him. That was my type. Over the years, my type has changed. I would like to think I am a little less superficial and a lot more intellectual in what I am drawn to currently, but I'll be honest, I'm not so sure that is true. I can fully and with good conscience admit that I am a total chemistry junkie and I can usually detect it within a few seconds.

It seems that most people have a "thing" that they find attractive, and sometimes that "thing" can trump a whole lot of other attributes. The girl I mentioned above has a thing for a strong jaw. Another friend has a definite Latin bent, whether he is in fact Latin or not is irrelevant, if he has the look. Another girlfriend has a swimmers' body addiction. His face (and his personality for that matter) can seriously be a train wreck and she doesn't care if he has that v-taper with built out shoulders and a narrow waist. At least for a while.  

So what motivates this? Is it a matter of personal preference? What about societal expectations? Does it have something to do with past relationships? Is it some kind of biological/chemical/hormonal drive? Is it motivated by the little man who makes toast in the toaster? Is it all just a random clusterfuck?

Certainly personal preference is a huge component. If as a woman, you are 6 feet tall, it is unlikely you will be drawn to the guy who is 5'6 initially. I know a LOT of women who do not want to date someone who weighs the same or less than they do. There are clearly societal expectation issues involved in this as well that are a little deep for this early in the day... There are various studies out (like with real science, statistical analysis, and math-type stuff) about differences in whom women find attractive based on the stage in their cycle and whether or not they are on oral contraceptives. My guess is that it is an interplay between all these factors and probably a few more we don't quite understand.

It seems like it might be important to at least give some consideration to what your type is and WHY you are drawn to that type. Maybe it is because it is reminiscent of a past relationship that isn't quite resolved. Maybe it has something to do with your daddy issues. Maybe it is just a societal thing that is making you believe tall, dark, and handsome should be your type. By thinking it through, you can at least attempt to understand what motivates you. You then can consciously take the option to either pursue that type or to open up your mind a little. 

So... What's your type? Has it changed over the years? Is your boyfriend/partner/fuckbuddy/husband your type? Has your type changed? Do you think there is a little man in the toaster who makes toast? 

Talk to me, Skyler

Shame Stories... An Introduction

We all have a Shame Story. Some of us have several. The concept of the Shame Story originally came (to me anyway) from reading "The Effect of Living Backwards," a very compelling book that is a complete and total mind-fuck. In the book, two sisters recount things from their childhood and early 20's that bring them a sense of shame. Part of the game is to manipulate the other via the subjectivity of memory into making the other believe something that never occurred is fact. The other sister then has to discern if all, part, or none of the story actually occurred. Sometimes the storyteller begins to believe her own story as she recounts it which completely changes the game and hints at whether the story was ever completely fictionalized in the start. Great book, you should read it. I digress.

Shame Stories have gone by a few names over the years. One friend, who shall remain nameless, refers to it as a shame bubble... that sick feeling that rises up in you that sometimes you can't even pinpoint where it is coming from. You just know there is something that you did or said that is between somewhat and completely mortifying. There is also the shame spiral, where one memory triggers another and then another until you are clutching your head and rocking autistically in a corner praying this is someone else's life. Shame Stories are those moments that have become legendary. If only in your own mind.  

Shame Stories don't have to be sexual. They just tend to be more often than not. Shame Stories also don't have to arise out of massive drunkenness, but that happens quite a bit too.

I'll start. (Sidenote: I have procrastinated this part for about seven rewrites. Shame doesn't wear off that easily.) So there I was right... Just kidding. A few years ago, I had gone out of town for the weekend with a couple of friends for a concert. On Friday night, we are out at a bar after drinking all day. This group of guys appear (I don't fucking remember if they walked in, we walked in, and in fact, a lot of this is kind of fuzzy.) We start talking with them. I have no idea how much time elapsed, (I think it was quite a bit,) but we end up going outside of this beach-front bar, in the dark, with these two dudes we had met that evening to "look at the stars" down by the water. Here is where I'm putting this film into fast-forward with a highlight reel: making out on the beach, a VERY seedy strip club, a hot tub, being trespassed by security, a grass hut on the beach, more security, a retreat to the hotel where our other friend was with these dudes in tow, 4 people in a full-sized bed, all going out for breakfast together, meeting up with them again the next day, being spun around in the air and then thrown over one's shoulder while my ex walked by, etc total clusterfuck etc. 

There are moments of that story that make me almost physically ill. Not because I regret my actions in retrospect (no one got hurt, the situation sounds more out of control than it was), but just because it was so FUCKING STUPID to take off like that and make one unwise decision after another in front of an audience. And HOLY SHIT you should see the pictures. Jesus.  

Over a year later, I had the occasion to meet up with the Guy in Question. We actually had amazing chemistry and really clicked on a lot of levels. (Both at the time of this ShameFest and later. We chatted via text/email a few times over that next year. In fact, I still talk to him very occasionally.) I really liked him. Like, a lot. In many ways, he is/was probably what people would describe as ideal for me.  But, who the fuck would be stupid enough to get involved with someone after that introduction? I can hear it, "So how did you kids meet?" "Oh let's see, we got really fucked up on a beach in a foreign country and almost got arrested and dishonorably discharged!" UGH.

Here's my point. I wouldn't change this Shame Story for the world. It was a shitshow of epic proportions, but has provided several years worth of laughs. It might have even taught me a lesson. At least a little one. 

So spill it. I gave you something. Reciporicate. 

Update on Thursday, June 14, 2012 at 3:38PM by Female Underground

I'm confused.  I mean, I'm not confused about the concept of a "Shame Story," but I AM confused about why you would feel shame related to THAT story.

It was an ADVENTURE!   

Maybe I'm missing something, but you went to a foreign country (Mexico or some such cool Caribbean place I suspect) with a bunch of friends and played.  No one got hurt (physically or emotionally from what I can tell).  No one got arrested or ended up on the news (ALMOST only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades).  And from what I can tell, no one got married or slept with anyone they shouldn't have (though I have my doubts about the lack of getting your freak on because I, personally, don't think it's possible to go on a little foreign excursion involving alcohol and tomfoolery WITHOUT sleeping with someone inappropriate... that's sort of the point, isn't it?).  

So, are you embarrassed that you got drunk and let your hair down?  Talk to me girl. 

~  Austin

Update on Friday, June 15, 2012 at 10:17AM by Female Underground

Ah, there is the distinction: Embarrassment is a different animal than shame. Shame implies a deeper sense of having betrayed who you are. Embarassment is simply doing something dumb and getting red in the face about it. They are not mutually exclusive, obviously, but are different nonetheless.

The shame in this story arises from the fact that while a MORE THAN GOOD time was had by all, it set off a chain of events in that the target got a very odd view of me that is not true to my nature. I think no one disputes that I am always, always, always game for an adventure, but I prefer that adventure have my own mark on it and be viewed as part of the bigger picture.  I am very "out" about who I am. I think the sense of shame arises from the knowledge that this behavior did not reflect that. 

Now, I have certainly taken off on wild larks and engaged in similar behaviors and not felt that same sense of shame. In fact, that is true the overwhelming majority of the time. The difference though is when you are in the company of a person (or people) who already know and trust you that you know their opinion of you and who you are is not based entirely on this madcap 24 hours. This sort of a ridiculous excursion can actually bring people closer together, sometimes much closer, rather than being an impetus to driving them apart. 

FUCKTARD: The Definition and the Ranking System

About four years ago, a good friend of mine, Hunter (male, early 30's, a flipping rockstar in many areas... sorry, tangent, stay focused) introduced me to the word FUCKTARD.  I couldn't stop laughing.  FUCKTARD was/is the perfect word! 

I have met and had to deal with SOOOOO many FUCKTARDs over the years and I just didn't know what to call them.  Idiot was insufficient... retarded was too scientifically specific and a bit juvenile (and completely socially unacceptable)... douchebag implied a mean streak, so that wasn't what I was looking for.  There just wasn't a word to pinpoint the sensation of standing face-to-face with a person who was/is "a stupid piece of shit."  Pardon my crudeness there, but without using the word FUCKTARD in the definition, I can't really come up with an accurate description (I do not envy Mr. Webster for this task).  FUCKTARD is a sort of feeling... you know, when someone says or does something and all you can do is look at them and think, "Are you kidding me?"

Now, between the three FU creators, there is a LOT of formal education.  Heck, if it weren't for the release of student loan debt upon death, our children's children's children would be paying off our schooling until THEIR mid-40's... and while I can't speak for the others, I was never taught the word FUCKTARD in school.  More importantly, those mandatory "communication" classes never taught me how to recognize and/or deal with a FUCKTARD in the workplace or life.  I'd be so much further ahead if they had. 

It's time to change all that.  It seems, after some careful consideration, that there IS, in fact, a FUCKTARD Ranking System (FRS).  The details aren't quite all worked out, and input is encouraged, but this should get us all off to a nice start:

• Get a notepad.
• Header:  Name... Date of First Encounter... Hair Color (apparently blondes are given a bit more leeway on the FUCKTARD scale, I don't really understand why, but it appears to be the rule and I'm all about following the rules)
• Put three columns on the paper.  First column says IDIOT.  Second column says ASSHOLE/BITCH.  Third column says FUCKTARD.
• Each time a person says something stupid, give them a tally mark.
  • Five tally marks under IDIOT moves you to the second column.  
  • 10 tally marks under ASSHOLE/BITCH moves you to the third column.   
  • Before returning fire/commenting on what the person said/did, total the tally marks under third column.
  • Upon leaving, or randomly if you would like, exclaim, "CONGRATULATIONS!! YOU'RE A 5TH DEGREE FUCKTARD!!"
  • End day with amusement and enjoyment.

*  Author's note: 5th level FUCKTARD is only an example. Total tally marks in the third column should be used to determine the actual FUCKTARD rank.  

A couple of details on the FUCKTARD Ranking System:

• FUCKTARD ranking  is definitely cumulative.  You don't reset at each new encounter.   No one I know has ever reset their FUCKTARD capabilities, so we aren't going to let them reset there point totals just because it's been a month.
• FUCKTARD ranking is subjective.  Each person must determine for themselves the worthiness of a tally mark.   A more uniform system should be installed, but that means a lot of paper work, and as of yet, we don't have a training system or a way to pay the FUCKTARD call-in center employees.  Sorry about that.  Perhaps we can get a grant and do a blind study to help in creating a FUCKTARD Standard.   Any Grad students out there looking for a thesis project?
• There are levels of FUCKTARDness...  sort of a FUCKTARD Merit Badge Program. 
  • An ABSOLUTE FUCKTARD is the highest level (and these people probably should be shot just on principle).
    • One can achieve ABSOLUTE FUCKTARDness though point accumulation OR without prior marks in the earlier categories (although they no doubt deserve them.) For example, one who tries to punch their elderly mother at Christmas. Instant ABSOLUTE FUCKTARD status.
    • SITUATIONAL FUCKTARD.  Say you are a NINJA level FUCKTARD, but you only act like a FUCKTARD when you eat 4 packages of jolly ranchers and an illicit Percocet that you got in Mexico. Your behavior might earn you a FUCKTARD label, but it is situational and thus, while capable of repetition, is not a constant state of being so it's a soft FUCKTARD status.   SITAUTIONAL FUCKTARDary is a temporary state and may or may not be progressive.  I will have to think about this one a little more.
  • There IS an absolution program to remove FUCKTARD tally points.  It's complicated though.  For example, saving kittens  from impending doom by a freak lawnmower accident would mitigate a FUCKTARD ranking level slightly.  Of course, that's just one potential act/example of non-FUCKTARDness which might be acceptable.   Bottom line though and general rule, once a FUCKTARD, always a FUCKTARD... and once an ABSOLUTE, Non-SITUATIONAL FUCKTARD, there is NO mitigation or redemption anywhere.

There are still some gray areas and things to be worked out... and strategies will have to be developed for how to deal with a FUCKTARD, but I feel a step forward in this area has been made.  When the full handbook is created (and reviewed by psychological professionals for accurateness and applicability), I'm sure we at Female Underground will make them available for sale at the low, low price of $19.95, plus tax and shipping & handling.  

~  Austin