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Devaluing the Goddess

November 30, 2008


The above statuette dates back to paleolithic times.

Was it a religious icon? Did it represent the Goddess? Did it just represent womanhood and the mystery that brought life into the world? We may never know. Or maybe we do know and I just haven’t done enough research.

The exaggerated breasts and hips make it a symbol of fertility, motherhood, and life. The lack of any facial features whatsoever makes it a universal symbol rather than an individual one.

When species survival depended on successfully birthing enough squalling brats to beat the law of averages, such traits were valued. Even revered.

Today’s goddess?

Scrawny little stick figures, valued only as objects of sex, not of procreation and subsequent nurturing.


No titties. No hips. No soul.

Kinda makes you wonder where mankind is headed, neh?

In an age when emasculated sexuality has become the ideal and body image a hotter topic than actual health and functionality, I don’t hold out much hope for our species.

On a long enough time line the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.

I see that day fast approaching.

Now, first let me say I am not advocating a return to our primitive roots (Actually, that’s exactly what I’m advocating these days, now that I’ve tried the very plan I mocked in this post two years ago. Click on the Primal page for more details). The Caveman Diet [no, I didn’t make that up, follow the link] might sound like a good, sound approach to the *optimal health* supposedly enjoyed by our survivalist hunter gatherer ancestors, (I still believe this next point, however) but the fact that statuettes like the one at the top of the post exist in such vivid, lifelike detail tells me that there were fat folks around back then, too.

The difference was, back then fat was considered a sign of success rather than failure.

Today it is just the opposite.

And while I don’t want to slip too far to the other extreme that takes *fat acceptance* [I hate that term, BTW – it should just be *acceptance* – including the label *fat* only acknowledges that fat deserves a label] to it’s blitheringly blind conclusion that being grossly overweight through inactivity and neglect is somehow healthy, I would still like to see the way the world perceives body image drift back towards a more sane middle ground.

[edit to add: I did not link the post at Shapely Prose to say that they advocate the extreme viewpoint, but because the post is a really good example of what fat acceptance is all about. THIS is another good post on the subject.]

The expectations that society has absorbed through Hollywood, mass media, and those oh-so-helpful women’s magazines [that are only helping themselves line their collective pockets] is just flat out unrealistic, unhealthy, and unconscionable.

I mean, honestly, when did we develop the trend that said a sexy woman should look like a young boy?

Sorry. Just doesn’t do it for me.

When did we decide that women shouldn’t be built like women?

Give me a real woman with real curves any day over the airbrushed stick figures currently being touted as *ideal* . . .

Does that mean I hate thin women or find them unattractive? Well, no, actually. I pretty much find women in general to be pretty damn hot and love to look at them (and grope them if they’ll let me) for hours on end, though if I had a *type* at this point I’d have to say I do tend to favor a woman with a heart shaped @ss. :mrgreen:

My point in all of this is not about discriminating between different body types but in obliterating the expectation that *skinny* should somehow be the *default* setting for womanhood. Because it bloody well shouldn’t. Women should be allowed to be themselves. To look like themselves. If they want to be work out nuts, great. If they want to live free and easy, also great.

Robert Heinlein once said the only true morality is *women and children first* – any other morality actively works against the survival of the species.

Yet here we are devaluing our chief resource in survival, the better half of all that we are, slowly torturing and breaking it down with unrealistic expectations and causing all manner of stress and grief for the women trying in vain to meet those expectations no matter how plainly ridiculous or unrealistically demanding they become.

Because in the end we are social animals. It’s another survival trait, but perhaps our Achilles heel as well.

We will do almost anything for validation and acceptance.

Even if it makes us miserable.

Even if it kills us.

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