Tits

I was doing a casual scroll through photos of the Inauguration. No need to read the endless competing reports of the good, the bad and the truly, disgustingly ugly when I came across this photo of Mark Zuckerberg staring at Lauren Sánchez’s tits. I assume Bezos has free range privileges so he wasn’t paying much attention. Every news agency is now taking a swing at her nationally, talking about her inappropriate clothing choice for the party. And, it is. It really is an inappropriate choice. I’m not sure where just a bra is the right decision for a public appearance unless the tits were very pricey and you want people to admire them as though you had just gotten a new Ferrari.

Before I get too far along, I want to say, having owned a lovely lingerie shop for fifteen years - that her $500 bra does not fit her. Whoever sold it to her did not know how to fit a bra. I wish she had asked me. I would have done a much better job, but she didn’t. The wires are supposed to go under her breasts, not on top of them. The wires should have been two inches wider and longer so they hit her breast bone. Having seen the size of her implants it would take a very different bra to complete the circumference under them. I am looking at those breasts and wondering if the surgeon screwed a metal plate to her breast bone to support those puppies. But, really, who cares. Every guy sitting around her wants a look as though breasts are a new discovery for them. Maybe their wives or partners came without a set.

I do not want to give Zuckerberg a pass here. He fell into the honey pot bucket with the rest of them long ago, but I watched the clip of this now infamous moment a couple of times. The frame you see above lasted less than a second - but that’s the second the press gleefully went nuts over. That’s the one that counted. In his defense, if I were sitting next to him in the front row of the inauguration and he had his penis on display, I would have glanced over. How could I not? We don’t usually see body parts that are supposed to be covered in public.

A guess as to how Zuckerberg feels about this photo on the front page across the country: Humiliated would be my guess. Such a middle school move to be caught staring at tits, especially for the world to see. Can’t you hear them during seventh grade recess riding him with glee about SEX… OMG. ‘Bet you had a boner on looking down her dress. Hahahaha’. Ribbing him hard, embarrassing him. Bet it’s posted on Facebook. Certainly hope so.

I was glad to discover that Lauren is a compassionate Christian.

Every photo I find of Lauren Sánchez is a semi nude shot of her tits. Try this one where she and Bezos are giving $100 million to some well deserving nonprofit. Definitely the correct dress for the event.

Now guess how Bezos feels: One up and lovin’ it. Lots more money than Zuckerberg, owns a pretty woman and envisions himself with a much larger dick. Do men do dick size comparisons in public? Not sure. Well, why not.

Isn’t this what the whole occasion is about? Who’s on top of whom. Who has the power? Which dick can push the other dick off the stage and into bankruptcy. It’s a dick gladiator fight to the finish with Trump sitting on his throne loving the showdown for his benefit. Trump is so powerful, but I wonder if he realizes that there is literally not a single human being on this planet that even remotely likes him, never mind loves him, including his children and his wife. He has to pay her to stand next to him and touch his hand like she means it which, of course, she doesn’t. She can’t stand him. But, she’s hanging in there for the money she hopes she’ll get when he dies. Imagine wasting what little time you have on Planet Earth waiting for your husband, whom you loath, to die. Think about all the other things she could have done with her one life.

Lauren Sánchez has thirty million dollars of her own money but clearly that is not enough to support her bee sting lips, enhanced breasts and her wardrobe choices. Chump change.

Below is what I would wear to the grocery store if I had her wardrobe. Here I come checking out with my package of chicken breasts at City Market.

I wonder if she can breathe in that corset. Is this the ‘natural’ waist of a woman who has had three children? I doubt her waist was that small when she was twelve. Looks truly painful. The maintenance this woman puts herself through … it’s a full time job.

Must have just had her lips done recently. They are quite perky. There is no such thing as rock hard balloon tits holding firm on a 56 year old woman who has had three children. I wonder what they feel like. They look solid, substantial. Maybe they deflate when she lays down. A handy release valve so Bezos can get close to her. So many questions. So hard to know.

Here she is in another outfit. Do her breasts look slightly smaller? I mean, not enough to really notice, but maybe.

Bezos looks like he just flew through a meteorite from Mars. Lauren’s lips look a little smaller. I wonder how often women have to do the bee sting thing to keep them pouty along with their breasts. How much does that hurt? Ouch just thinking about it. This dress could be an excellent nursing outfit if she were younger. Just a quick flip to the side and the baby is good to go.

Maybe you are wondering why I am writing about her clothing choices. Because she gives all women a bad name. She’s Barbie in the extreme. Society encourages women to sell themselves to a man, maybe a man like Trump who will take care of them, keep them safe, from what I’m not sure. Maybe them? Of course the woman gives up her autonomy, but look at the great dresses she gets in exchange.

I look at Lauren and wonder why she willingly prostitute herself and contort her body in unnatural ways. Why is she doing that? Fear that her body is all she has to offer. She is after all 56 years old. What will she do when her body turns 60 or horrors, 65?

The majority of women are taught from birth that men are smarter than women. They know more, about everything. They can fix things. They are better decision makers. When they strap on their loin cloth, they can kill a charging elephant with their bare hands. So impressive to watch them lift that elephant right off the ground and throw him over the near-by cliff. Wow. Now that’s a real turn on and here I am trying so hard to do one pull up. I definitely need that man around to lift my chin up to the bar if nothing else.

Crazy, I know, and yet I too have internalized this message learned at my mother’s and society’s knee. Men are powerful and women are less than. It’s so ingrained in my thinking I wonder if it’s part of my DNA. I follow a specific roadmap learned at birth. For me it comes up every single day. Here is this morning’s example:

We are leaving the gym. I am driving my car. Deciding which way to drive home for me is often fraught with at least a whiff of anxiety as the road home I choose is different from the road my husband chooses. I can feel my tension start to bristle as I turn right instead of left as he prefers out of the parking lot. Many of the roads two blocks from the gym are closed for construction. I like to cut through the parking lot behind the library and turn right onto Main Street. If I were alone in my car that died, I would be singing a hot Smokey Robinson song bouncing and swaying to his beat in my seat. I feel intensely clever avoiding waiting for the light if I had gone straight. I am brilliant. I know that. I would push my mighty steed forward at this point but now I realize not only is my mighty steed in a landfill somewhere but my husband is sitting next to me trying so hard mentally to be in the driver’s seat making the ‘correct’ left hand turn.

Now my anxiety is starting to rise as my navigator husband tells me to turn left, go up two blocks and turn right to get home. There are three problems with this advice: First, I was born here. I don’t need directions for the mile and a half drive home. Second, I intend to cut through the alley across the street instead of going out of my way two blocks. I like cutting through alleys. The shortcuts feed my ego. Third, in fury I comply.

Who am I mad at here? Me. My husband did not reach across and grab the steering wheel. He didn’t threaten me with violence for failure to yield to his insightful knowledge. So why did I follow what my brain interpreted as his orders, turn left and explode? Who’s that on? ME.

It’s possible you are wondering how Lauren’s dresses and submitting to turning left have in common. Actually, a great deal.

Women are taught from birth that they have little agency. We are taught that our value, not to us, but to men is our body. We need to primp, wear sexy high heels that will require bunion surgery forty years later when no man is interested anymore. We all take men shopping for lingerie as just adorable, completely normal. They are often a little shy coming in. I’ve waited on hundred’s of them trying to help them feel comfortable buying something for their personal fantasy that their wives will never wear.

But, let’s flip that around. Are there lingerie stores all over the country specializing in enhancing your sweetie’s penis for the woman’s pleasure? Maybe a see-through thong for him, perhaps with sparkles that you find on women’s panties. But he’s not an object whose only value is the size of his penis … although ditching that charging elephant is a real plus. No, his value is how much money he can make so she can buy all the frilly dresses that tell his male friends his dick really is larger than theirs.

Our taught inequality for both sex’s is what has allowed Trump put his large McDonald’s with extra fries ass behind the President’s desk instead of a bright, woman of color, attorney leading our country. It starts at birth and winds up in the White House. We can all do better. Women can own their own power, starting with me. But, let me check that out with my husband first. Funny, Sidney, very funny.

cccc

cccc