Sunday, November 15, 2009

A Riddle Wrapped in a Mystery Inside a Double Double

There are some things I’ll never understand – Stonehenge, advanced algebra, beading.

Quantum mechanics, quantum physics, or quantum all by its lonesome. How a radio works, the concept of black holes, religious fanaticism.

Why we’re born. Why we die. Why men of enormous girth water the front lawn wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a St Christopher’s medal.

I don’t believe women are from Venus, more sensitive or more emotional than men. Psychologically, individual human beings differ from each other, the sexes, not so much. But there’s one soft and squishy brick wall I can’t get through: The amount of belly real estate each sex will share with the casual public – women calculate in square inches, men round it off to the nearest acre.

Evidence is everywhere. On a Sunday afternoon, driving through the pastoral streets of Pasadena, I’ll see enormously inflated, hairy male stomachs doing yard work, oblivious to the fact they are making women like me gag and spill Sausage McMuffin down the front of our muumuus.

Gain five pounds, a woman goes tent shopping. Gain fifty pounds, a man tucks in his wifebeater and cinches his belt at the kidneys.

It’s not that men lack vanity – they, after all, invented the combover. I think it’s a manufacturing defect, you know, like one of the blind spots on a Range Rover. No need to recall the whole model, but do alert the owner.

And if the owner should choose to do nothing about it, sadly we’re all at risk.

50 comments:

  1. Maybe the head real estate has a different sort of value than the belly real estate. Must cover head. Must not cover belly.

    But who am I to judge? I'm vain about my weight, I admit. And I'm damn glad I'll never go bald unless by choice.

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  2. This is a hoot. I want to add, as always, but I don't want to imply predictability--
    izzit your bday? I celebrated mine today--listening to different birthday songs, Stevie Wonder, the Beatles, and one goofy one I think was Farmer John--

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  3. I am belly laughing ( pardon the pun), howling and slapping my ample thigh!! Have you been down here in Alabama gathering fodder for you blog? Humm?? I thought so. I don't know when I"ve howled so loud. Well probably last week right here. That said, I know where you're coming from KB. Gawd, men just don't get it do they? Moi, I knew decades ago when I needed to put the girls under wraps and OMG, the upper arms have not been seen in public for I don't know how long. The ample thighs you ask? Why I've not seen them in so long I"m not sure how many purple veins they've amassed in my absence. I just don't look. Nuff said.

    If I'd seen a scantily clad man worth looking at in ages, I could opine, but sadly non.
    V

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  4. I'll buy into this one.

    I also believe, kB, they got Venus wrong as the planet women came here from.

    Who invented makeup?
    And, why do you people need makeup, combovers and makeovers.

    Sleepovers? Yes, we canines have been known to try that.

    I don't expect understanding, KB.
    Always like your stories.

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  5. Desiree! It's raining birthdays. Happy birthday to you. Was it your sister who's neighbor lady watered the lawn in the nude? I guess that was more screws loose than bravado, though.

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  6. Isn't it their/his/our 'right'? I think I read it in the Constitution? It's right up there with the pursuit of scratching and WWF. I swear I read it in the Constitution. Or maybe it was in some magazine.

    sigh.

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  7. I'm honored to share this month with so many people, including the brilliant Dez. Oh yeah, and we've got that Thanksgiving thing. (This day is all yours, Dez. Mine was days ago.)Petrea's and Laurie's anniversaries, what's not to love?

    Virg, you made me spew soda crackers, and that ain't pretty. CO, philosophical as ever. And Bandit, the major award-winner.

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  8. Brenda, I always fear defamation of character lawsuits.

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  9. Hee heeeee!! What is it with that?! Sorry to hear you lost some of your sausage and egg McMuffin, KB. My wv is corterst ~ close enough to 'corset' for me!

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  10. Here in Florida we live in constant fear of sudden butt crack exposure and gluteal overload. More cross-gender mummus, less skin.

    Happy birthday Desiree!

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  11. This is hilarious. I noticed a man working on his roof the other day wearing old 70s micro-short nylon running shorts, white socks and black loafers. He was standing up, stretching his back, looking like a weird performance art version of Aphrodite rising from the sea and I just thought ... wow, men really lucked out in the self-confidence department.

    Meanwhile, my model-thin teenaged neighbor was crying because she gained 5 pounds from Halloween candy.

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  12. Maybe showing off hairy bellies is an evolutionary throwback. Somewhere far in a prehistoric mist a Cromagnon hairy belly was a symbol of riches and power, and possibly sexual prowess.

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  13. It seems I missed your birthday?? Happy birthday!

    And you should see the men in Bulgaria. On archaeology digs, they will literally tour you around in speedos (or so I've heard...never been able to experience the joy for myself).

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  14. See how most of the men are absent from this post? That's because they're truly puzzled. "What the hell is she talking about? Well, I can't be bothered, I have to water the lawn. Where's my medal?"

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  15. No photo. Unusual YOU!

    Btw: My belly is not enormous and not hairy, and my kidneys are OK. Also my hair is intact.

    Maybe I should run myself, when it’s still time.

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  16. KB,
    My grandmother called them soda crackers too. Moi? I love a SALTINE! I'm still chuckling over LA's Hunk on the Roof in his loafers! I"ll bet he beat his (hairy ?) chest after that.

    My WV is PITYM. And indeed i do.

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  17. At least we're tan.

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  18. What the hell are you talking about?

    No, you'll never find me flaunting it in public, whether watering a lawn or by the pool. But I do believe that Vanda is correct. A hairy belly was and is a symbol of riches and power, and definitely sexual prowess.

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  19. I think I grasp what you're saying Earl, figuratively speaking.

    WV: Ecowsid

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  20. Er, I'm not a fan of the exposed walking whales. But what is worse is when these weighty silverbacks remove the wifebeater and jump in their vehicles. I shudder to ever buy a used care anymore. Decorum lost.

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  21. I don't know. Shouldn't we all be okay with our bodies? ...No?

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  22. Just not other peoples' bodies, Petrea.

    BTW, I sent an email to you at the address on your blog profile, but it bounced. it bounced like a big, hairy belly in a tank top.

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  23. The neighbors are scared. They heard this terrifying snort coming from my house and there are cocktail peanuts all over the street.

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  25. Mr. E.,
    Darlin' it ain't a symbol of nuttin'. Our only hope at this point is that a little "mystery" might peak some interest.
    Doubtful.
    V

    KB, I love cocktail peanuts.

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  26. I'm crushed, Virginia. Shall we talk about the Civil War then?

    WV: noexrac ... speaks for itself.

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  27. Sent you an email, Mr. Earl. If you can't reply to it I don't know what to tell you. Everyone else manages through to my inbox, including various Russian Travel agencies and every grieving heiress on the Ivory Coast.

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  28. Have those heiresses sent you your share of their money yet, Petrea? I keep waiting for mine.

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  29. Not yet. I haven't sent in my money. I spent it all on macarons in South Pasadena.

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  30. Mr. E,
    Au contraire, I was not around back then, although I probably look like I was.
    V

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  31. Oh, you guys, you know those are scams. I, on the other hand, am gathering all my personal banking information to send to this nice gentleman who told me via email I won a huge prize in the Irish Sweepstakes. I love Ireland.

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  32. Those emails are fake, Petrea. But the shapely 25-year-old women in bikinis who tell me they're madly in love with me and dying to meet me, those are real. The emails, I mean.

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  33. I realized today that I no longer understand, or remember, the quadratic formula. Hooray! More room for good stuff.

    I enjoy the lively, clever wording of this post (and others). The word "wifebeater" really bothers me, however. Classist? Crude? Something. But don't let me cramp your style.

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  34. Mr. E,
    Hate to bust yo bubble but the babe in the bikini firing off emails to you.......is moi! :)
    V

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  35. V: Isn't it past your bedtime? I knew it was you. But you should update your photo to about age 34. And that's not a bubble.

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  36. Ok, me last, because I have something that has to be turned in by midnight. Yeah, really. I might get, like, five dollars for it.

    Barbaro, a ribbed singlet is called "wifebeater" in reference to the stereotype in grade c,d,e movies and tv shows of a lowlife greeting the cops in messy hair and a stained muscle-T.

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  37. I am shy, but still considering the running thing …… be nice to me.

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  38. Barbaro...I can honestly say that I never understood the quadratic formula, doubt that I could ever remember it even back when I was supposed to... probably because I was in Miss Mowdy's class, sitting in the D row (yes, she had us sit by what grade we were getting...) next to Pat P...Senior-hunk-football player...need I say more???

    Turns out I squeaked by with a C and Pat P went on to earn his wifebeater...so glad I was just a lowly sophomore and preferred the guys sitting in the C row or above!!!

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  39. Mr. E,
    IF I could update my photo to look like I"m 34 don't you think I would have done it by now? Some things are near bout impossible you know.
    V

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  40. Chieftess, that's so funny! Quadratic formula sounds only vaguely familiar. I must have been ditching that year.

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  41. Well, you look 34 to me.

    WV: prodin'

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  42. How do you balance your checkbook without the quadratic formula?

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  43. You are such a riot! I love your style, girl!

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  44. I can help you figure out that beading stuff if you have any interest. ;)

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  45. Here I am, late to the party. You have some gem-like sentences tucked in there. Belly real estate? Brilliant.

    wv: arsitirr

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  46. Once I had to stop by an acquaintance's house for an errand, and he greeted me at the door in his tighty whities and nothing else. The crease of his hairy belly button smiled at me.

    Thanks for making me laugh.

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