Thirty-three years ago, my good-looking dad crammed his dick into my good-looking mom, and they had a good-looking kid. I spent my formative years cramming many a snack into my good-looking face, so my face and the body that goes with it have always been chubby. The word “husky” was thrown around a lot while shopping for clothes in Kmart or wherever lower-middle-class Hispanic families go to buy jeans for their fat progeny.
If I was born an ugly man, there would have been more of an incentive not to shovel so much food into my Steve Buscemi face, but alas, genetics blessed me with a decent mug so I’ve stayed chubby. At my skinniest, I was still about 20 pounds overweight. Even while working out every day and taking Krav Maga classes, I looked like a Latino analog of Chris Farley in Beverly Hills Ninja.
However, over the past few years thanks to some lifestyle changes, I’ve been gradually shedding the pounds, undoing the years of General Tso’s-fueled Call of Duty marathons. Recently while doing some crunches it dawned on me that I’ve got something to look forward to—I’m going to be objectified!
After all these fucking years of having to be charming and intelligent to get by in the world, people are going to like me just because they think I’m a piece of ass! Holy shit!
Since I’m totally about to be objectified, I figured I’d better get familiar with how my life is going to change. So I found this dope video on Upworthy to guide me through the world of objectification:
In case you missed that, the totally empowered and not-full-of-shit lady in the video defined sexual objectification as: The viewing of people solely as de-personalized objects of desire instead of as individuals with complex personalities and desires/plans of their own.
OK, I know that sounds bad. Catcalling would definitely suck if it wasn’t from hot chicks. And it would probably be annoying if people were only interested in my hot body and didn’t care about my ideas. But you know what? I think I’m ready for a little bit of that. Hear me out.
I’ll be able to publicly trash any woman who dares imply that it’s also hard being female.
On Facebook, I’ll be able to link to articles all day long about female privilege, ones that critique female behavior at length, and girls won’t complain about it. As a matter of fact, they’ll like the articles and leave me supportive comments. Sure, they’ll just be trying to get into my pants, but again, after a life of not being objectified that doesn’t sound so bad.
I’ll take selfies and belfies, sporting rock-hard abs and women will like them and compliment me constantly.
I’ll tell everyone about the “rapey” chick who asked me up to her hotel room for coffee and use it to start a discussion about rape culture, plus everyone will know that someone found me attractive. Most women will take this seriously and the ones who don’t will pretend to. The ones who refuse to get with the program will be vilified by other women as hateful misandrists.
Maybe I’ll start doing standup comedy. I’ll bring a ukulele onstage and the girl comics I know will think I’m so hot, they’ll pretend my song about cunnilingus was funny. All my other songs will be about my penis, balls, and prostate and how sexually promiscuous I am. Because I’m such a man-whore, am I right, fellas? Clap it up for me!
I’ll blog about things like “the female gaze” even though that gaze is the only reason anyone even reads my shitty blog.
I’ll have a YouTube channel that will only be recaps of other popular YouTube videos. All of the video thumbnails will be of me in sexy outfits with my pecs squeezed together. Can you say “ad revenue”?
Through all of this I’ll ignore the fact that privilege, the concept that gets thrown around like a giant box of cronuts at Jezebel HQ, is relative to each situation in which an individual finds himself. Sometimes if you flip a privilege over, you will see a whole slew of disadvantages crawling along its underside like worms under a mossy rock—worms that have had easier lives than you, hurling accusations of privilege to invalidate your arguments and minimize your hardships.
Anyway, enough thinking for me. It’s time to hit the elliptical and not eat anything for the rest of the day. Let’s get objectified up in this bitch!