I just saw a television commercial that made me blush. The starved-looking swimsuit model on the screen wasn’t wearing enough to floss her teeth with. I don’t even know what the ad was selling—nor do I give a flannel.
Look, I’m not complaining. God help me, I’m not.
Yes I am.
What happened to women? I’m talking real figures and Grecian curvature? Once upon a time, girls had meat on their bones and weren’t afraid to finish off a fried chicken drumstick? There wasn’t a thing wrong with them.
My grandaddy once said, “Boy, the best advice I can give you: marry a woman who wears cotton panties and eats until she’s good and full.”
I gave a confused look.
He went on, “The sort of lady who wears expensive, satin britches and eats like a bird, she’s trouble.”
I’ve thought about that my whole life. Subsequently, I also learned Grandaddy’s advice isn’t something you bring up at your mama’s Bible study—unless you want the Jesus slapped out of you with a hairbrush.
Admittedly, I’m inclined to agree with Grandaddy. But then, I come from a long line of redneck women. Strong and firm ladies, who could clean a chicken carcass, sweep the porch, hang laundry, and kiss your skinned knees during the same afternoon.
We’ve done modern girls wrong.
My friend’s teenage daughter claims she’s afraid to eat in front of boys. She’s a brunette beauty whose PE teacher told her she was overweight. The entire class calculated body-fat percentages on computers.
This played havoc on the girl’s mind. She quit eating suppers, started living at the gym. She even began vomiting after meals. One day, she passed out at school. They sent her to a shrink.
The doc suggested putting her on a diet.
God help us. I’m no psychologist, but we don’t need any more carb-counting. We need women unafraid. We need less size-zeroes, less two-pieces, and more women proud of their iron skillets. Fewer X-rated commercials, more Aunt Bee reruns.
A woman is a human being. She has a real face—one that looks good without makeup. She has a figure that’s unique. And an appetite. For life, love, humor, and hickory smoked ham.
She’s designed to laugh until she snorts, to enjoy rich desserts, and to cuss from time to time. She wears what she likes, talks as loud as she wants, sips beer from a can, and sees the universe in her own way.
She’s a female. God created her for changing the world, raising families, and making a boy feel like a man.
She’s not perfect. She’s downright flawless.
To hell with swimsuit ads.