So this week I read a (literal) sob-story on Huffington Post by a brave woman named Robin Korth who, at 59 years old, has just discovered that she’s not a 22 year old hot piece of ass. While normally I’d dismiss this woman as a narcissist who has experienced a well-deserved rude awakening, the manner in which she became aware of her old-ass body is, frankly, heartbreaking. While lying in bed with a man named Dave that she met online, she began probing him as to why he didn’t want to have sex with her. He then went through a laundry list of her imperfections. Her titties were too old. Her ass was old as shit. Her hair was fucked up despite being cool. He had just fucked too many hot younger women and her old shit wasn’t cutting it.
Now, fuck this old guy, obviously. I’m struggling to imagine what kind of bloated bathtub-corpse torso an internet-dating 55 year old cooze hound possesses, but I’ve got a mental image of a cautionary tale about too much UV exposure and three decades of excessive Miller High Life consumption. As bad as Robin felt being criticized by Dave, imagine how much worse one of those “hot younger women” felt being penetrated by leathery butter-mannequin with gray chest hair and incongruous body temperature from his deep-vein thrombosis. Trying to close her eyes and think of anything but her father as a giant deflated football places his rheumatic hand on her neck. His medical alert bracelet tangling with her tiffany necklace as wheezes escape his weathered vocal chords with the stressed tenor of an old screen door. Frankly, I’d take the criticisms over a batch of his old gelatinous semen; guaranteed to produce retardation and struggling to find his way out of his dick – the final act looking less like a money shot and more like an old man trying real hard to save money on toothpaste. Gross.
I feel terrible for Robin. I really do. Because as an older woman, despite her assertions, she is in fact disgusting – just like Dave, who is also disgusting. Face it sister, you had your time. You’re not hot anymore, and no amount of crying and hugging in front of the mirror is going to change that. I mean shit, shouldn’t you use this time to stop “accepting” yourself and start realizing how much harder things are for young women that were just born ugly? It took you 59 years to feel what a lot of people feel every single day.
But, you don’t need to keep fucking Daves, Robin. What you need to do is get over all your self-respect bullshit and fully embrace the world of objectification. Dave probably has money, and that’s why he gets to fuck hot young women – but you have something much more valuable. You have fetish. You get to be a MILF.
I feel like we, as women, are unfortunately trained to think that being objectified is disrespectful. Maybe that’s true if you’re hot and also not a dumb bitch, but if you’re like the majority of people, you’ve got a bunch of flaws, and being objectified is, most of the time, our saving grace.
For example, like Robin, I also have a C-section scar. I’ve never had a C-section, I just have the scar. How you ask? Beats me. All I know is that I walked out of Tijuana with four vials of oxycontin and 9 staples on my gunt. That’s just a part of life.
But, I use the scar to my advantage. It used to hide it, and men would remove my shirt and I’d see the disappointment in their eyes as they read it like a disclaimer underneath my amazing tits. They’d see that jagged line on my lower abdomen, like a police line cordoning off my crime scene pussy, and only continue to fuck me out of either pity or morbid fascination. But, I started advertising it, and suddenly every man I brought home wanted to fold up the skin around the scar and fuck it like a scar pussy. Sure, I had become a fetish, but at least someone was paying attention to me.
I think that’s a thing we should be teaching young girls. To recognize their flaws, and instead of embracing them in some sort of bullshit self-esteem building exercise, we should teach them how to exploit them. Teach them how to accept at least a little bit of objectification.
Of course, for the most part, you don’t have to teach girls these kinds of things, because those of us that were lucky enough to have flaws before age 59 figure it out on our own. But, the unfortunate ones – the ones like Robin – are left high and dry at 59 because suddenly, they aren’t just “hot.” It’s a shame really, but it doesn’t have to be. Step away from the mirror, Robin, and go pick up a nerd with mother issues at Gamestop. At least you won’t have to fuck gross old Dave.