I just did a brief post about Mariska Hargitay, wishing she could let her hair down into the bleach and cut her dresses down to there and up to there like her mother. I mean, she is getting ample these days, and, uh, I guess I should explain what I mean by the term “ample.”
Tired of seeing these stick models and actresses with hips like dislocated shoulder joints. Why do they even aspire to being Size 2, Size 0, Size –4? Have we all become so weirdly homosexual that women don’t want to look like women for fear of turning off their TG lovers?
This will be totally uninteresting to all men under the age of 50. So don’t read or look any farther. Because there was a time when women had a certain avoirdupois. They had extraordinarily fake hair color and extraordinarily real big breasts and child-bearing hips. They were, to a generation long lost to Viagra, a total replacement and preemption of need for same.
Everyone knows the archetype. Considered then by manly men, and perhaps even now to male homosexuals and transvestites, the most desirable woman on earth.
Mostly, life in the far long ago was in black and white, as you will see. But at times it burst into startling color.
And not only did every woman want to be her, every country produced one of their own. The formula was simple. Lots of bleach, pasta, and lipstick.
Even England had one. Her name was Diana Dors. Who also lived in black and white.
A looker nevertheless.
Whereupon the French had to have one aussi.
She also lived in black and white, usually with Jean Paul Belmondo, but when he was taking a shower she had her colorful moments.
The Scandinavians, who cares which nation, had their own exceptionally pneumatic version.
And where the English and the French and the Nordic master race goes, so go the Germans.
As a rule. Unless you’re Elke Sommer.
Which brings us back full circle to Mariska. Mama knew what she was about.
She also had a 140 IQ. Remember that.
Why her daughter has known better than ever to take her top off for the camera.