The Rise Of The Bulge

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I’m calling it, you guys. The bulge is on the rise (LOL). As I’ve previously “reported,” our generation is the generation of asses. I also happily embraced that fact. After a few years of being bullied into very cursory body image insecurities surrounding my tatas, I feel like the limelight is in the proper place. Those cheaters from the ’80s and ’90s with their chest balloons had it coming. But what about for us ladies (and/or anyone attracted to penises), huh? Well, like I said, it’s time to pay homage to the number one pants party favor.

Just as a disclaimer, I try not to shamelessly objectify people: hes, shes, or hes/shes included. Evolution has given us some pretty neat tools, like a brain capable of occasionally thinking about things other than humping and dumping. Listen, I’m a carnal, biologically driven being, too, and I have a confession: the bulge really blows my hair back. I’m sure you’re thinking along the same lines of Dorn’s sentiment when I pitched this idea (which was, “sick, okay though”). This new discovery dawned on me over time. It probably started a while ago, but it kind of came to light when a friend of mine called me out for two articles I found and “liked” in my newsfeed over the course of a couple weeks:

Besides the fact that I should consult my therapist about the whole cartoon dicks thing, I finally realized that I’m a wiener gazer. As such, I do tip my hat to the people trying their hardest not to undress the ladies with their pervy, beady eyes. Again, keep it together–but yes, I empathize.

This all came to a head (hehe) when I saw the outcome of Nick Jonas’s recent photo shoot for Flaunt magazine. He channels his inner Marky Mark in those pictures (thank sweet God above for putting that hot piece of arse on this planet) and grabs his junk through his boxer briefs while his jeans are at his ankles. Yeah, I’m sweating just writing this, and sweating in certain places more than others. Guys, don’t fear, though. It’s not the generous portion of the meat and potatoes he’s serving that really lights my fire, it’s simply his body language and the fact that there’s this tantalizing illusion of the jewels I’d like to add to my…jewelry box. I imagine this is what it’s like when the lady lovers get a whiff of nipple, and I now empathize with you lady lovers. Tighten up those pants a little, boys, and give us a little sumin’ sumin’.

In all seriousness, though, I try to look upon my recent revelation in a positive manner. I also try not to label myself a thirsty, moose-knuckle obsessed lady, but again, maybe that’s a conversation for my shrink. Regardless, I blame my hormones. Look around you, though. Expressions of sexuality are expanding. Even if the photoshopping of women is unlikely to slow down, opening up a wider breadth of what we consider sexy can probably help expand our minds and become more accepted. Why not start with appreciating a good baloney pony shot?.

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Mary Swanson

Both a bitter and optimistic 24-year-old entry-level underachiever with 2-4 friends and 0 talents. Washed up is an understatement. I prefer almost all my food luke-warm, what does that say about me?

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