Be afraid. Very fucking afraid. I think this might turn out to be a horny post. Maybe, no promises yet.
I’ve been testosterone-struck of late. Which I suppose is a good news at 45.
Gimme more, baby.
Yes, I’m like a fly in a shitfarm. I just made that simile up, sorry, it’s the best I can do.
But it’s true. I am like a fly in a shitfarm.
I’m in pig heaven. Today I took public trans to work and back and that can do it to me. Kick starts the testosterone-induced mania.
Hey man, so there is something that has stirred in my mind and pants recently. This relatively “new” style/fashion trend, you know, the skinny jean thing. OK, humor me, I did say “relatively.” Don’t go mercenary fashionista on me, but it is a sorta “recent” trend, you gotta give me that. On most women, it is awesome. Most. It seems women who should stay away from skinny jeans, do. Unlike other fashion statements hefty women dare to call their own at the risk of endangering everyone’s appetite. Short skirts, bare midriffs, tights…”large” women love trampling on fashions best left to the thinner amongst us. Not so with skinny jeans. I suspect that generally, skinny jeans are not tailored at the hands of barely paid garment workers to house hefts in the upper size ranges. Not all women look equally startling in skinny jeans, this much is true, but from my perspective, it’s difficult for a woman to look unsexy in skinny jeans.
Skinny jeans are a win-win for me. I see the occasional thickster brave a pair and I think it’s great, within a certain palatable range, but I still marvel at the feminine drive to be fashionably trendy when I contemplate the pure uncomfortable misery some of these girls must endure in order to flaunt that booty. I can’t imagine the claustrophobic confinement of being wrapped like a sausage for most of the day.
So yeah, in case you couldn’t tell, I’m an aficionado of the skinny jean movement. In fact, as soon as I’m made Lord of the Western Hemisphere, one of the first commands to issue from my Office of Fashion will be the requirement that all women
16-40 16-35 years of age will be required, by law, to wear skinny jeans in public areas.
Skinny jeans say it all. They tell us what we are playing with. It’s like a visual test drive. It’s like kicking the tires or popping the hood before ever starting the car.
I’ll detour here and observe that skinny jeans on guys is a tragedy of epic proportions. In some cases with that swooping girlie hair and emaciation, a quick glance at a skinny jean-clad fellow can momentarily gender confuse. At least most guys accompany their skinny jeans with DC’s or Vans so there is a merciful gender safety valve which acts as a visual tip off thus preventing inadvertent ogling. Although, last year I did see a guy, on several occasions in Hollywood, who wore his skinny jeans and flat petite sandals, an abhorrent sight. It’s impossible for a man to wear skinny jeans with any sense of masculinity…let’s face it.
Thankfully, when men wear them there are no curves, which is as it should be. Albeit, the same shapeless quality in a woman spells instant aesthetic doom.
For you see, I love skinny jeans for one reason.
Because I adore form.
I’m rather disinterested in detail.
Oh yeah, of course I love skin baring mini-skirts and daisy dukes as much as the next guy; but I posses a consuming and grinding fixation in slightly thick, curvy women who have seen fit to squeeze themselves into their denim straight jacket. Therein lies much of the appeal, for skinny jeans are like the modern day equivalent of a woman’s self-imbued sense of physical sacrifice for the purpose of man’s pleasure…like feet binding in China past.
The reason being that I am insanely fixated on curves, those womanly curves that flow to create a nice indented waist and blossoming hips and healthily protruding ass. Not to mention a nice curvaceous bosom (not necessarily large, but shapely and firm) and legs which curve slenderly and delicately down to the feminine ankles. I’m into the shape man. Not the detail. Skin is not worth the extra viewing effort as far as I’m concerned. In fact, many times the skin, through years of excessive tanning, age, blemishes, etc, straddles the line of mildly repulsive rather than hot.
Enter the skinny jeans!
With sknny jeans I can admire the form.
The feminine shape. The elusive promise a womanly shape minus its promising (and often disappointing) detail. Why skinny jeans as opposed to just jeans? Not sure, but I suspect it’s the beckoning out-of-sight illusion that you are beholding a woman’s nude essence and if you jiggle your imagination and creativity just a bit, you might be able to imagine that the jeans are really a layer of skin and all the shapely curves and indentations are exactly as they would appear as if she had nothing on.
It’s an illusion of flawless perfection.
It’s choosing the illusion over the reality.