On the Physical

On changing your hair

You’re blond, right? I don’t know why I think that, maybe you put a photo or something once, but it’s relevant… OK, so here it is. Do you think there is an age where a woman should stop dyeing her hair blonde? Or she should slowly do a darker hue? I’m in my mid 30s and have been a (well done) bottle blonde since my late teens. My mother is in her 60s and still going blonde, and I think it looks tacky and graceless. When should I change mine? Should I go brown or just a darker blond?

Sorry for the stupid question, but this is the internet.

I will neither confirm nor deny my status as a blonde, but I will tell you that this is not a stupid question. It may seem superficial, but there’s a lot going on here, so strap the fuck in, because we’re gonna go pretty deep.

First, a word about my grandmother. She was a wily old lady who loved to gossip, and perhaps my favorite of her many quirks was to comment loudly whenever someone she knew changed their hair.

‘A woman’s hair is her crown,’ she would say. ‘If she’s doing something different with her hair, that means she’s doing something different with her life.’ My grandmother was right, of course. It could be big or small, internal or external, but a change in your hair always reflects a change in your life.

That brings me to you and your mother, two bottle-blondes from two generations, both dealing with two of life’s major transitional phases. There’s a reason marketing demographics break down into ages 18–34 and 35–55, and it’s no coincidence that you’ve been blonde from your late teens up to now when you’re in your mid-thirties.

You are passing from young adulthood to middle adulthood. It is a significant transition into a completely different stage of psychosocial development, and of course, it’s the reason you’re asking this question about your hair color.

Your mother is also passing from middle adulthood to late adulthood. It’s just as significant a transition, one she might not be prepared for yet. Her resistance to that change is reflected in her refusal to be anything but blonde, which is why you think her choice to keep the same color is tacky and graceless.

For each of you, your blonde hair represents a part of your identity. You seem ready to acknowledge the changes in your life. Your mom, not so much. That’s fine. You should both do whatever the fuck you want to do with your hair, but since I can tell how these things are gonna play out, let me go ahead and predict your future.

After reading this, you are going to go significantly darker with your hair. You won’t go all the way brown, but you won’t be blonde any more either. Your friends will say it makes you look younger. Your mom will say it makes you look older. (For the record, you’ll look pretty much the same.)

After a few months of minor adjustments where you go a bit darker, you’ll settle into the new color. Eventually, you’ll catch yourself looking at pictures when you were blonde and you’ll wonder what in the hell you were thinking.

At some point, your mom will turn up with brunette hair. She will credit you as her inspiration for going non-blonde. This will be true, but not for the reason you think. She will refer to her new look as her ‘natural’ color, which is kind of ridiculous, but you’ll let her get away with it, because that’s what daughters do.

On tattoo ideas

What’s a good tattoo idea?

Get a pretty little butterfly tattooed onto your lower back.

That way, all the boys will know you’re an unoriginal whore, and it will give them a place to aim while fucking you from behind so as to avoid eye contact during orgasm.

Or maybe, you could reflect on the important themes and meaningful events in your life and imagine a visual representation of your innermost passions that you would like to permanently embed into the living canvas of your skin.

Or get a star next to your cooter.

On what LA does to women

I achieved my dream job, but with barely enough pay to get through my rent and bills. I moved from Brooklyn to L.A., so I really don’t have a support system. Not that being skinny isn’t awesome, but I’ve shrank about 45 lbs, leaving me at about 97 lbs (I’m only 5′0, still, that’s pretty close to being an emaciated carcass.)I usually eat a couple of bananas in a day, and take a shit ton of supplements so I don’t die. They’re roughly 12 cents each, unless someone I know comes around, which is rare, and I fake it by making some pasta and sauce, (a relatively cheap meal.) The amount of work I put in from home is unpaid and though it’s really time consuming, I enjoy it, but it leaves me pretty much no time for a second job.

There’s talk of me moving up in the workplace, and calling home with my tail between my legs and asking for cash which isn’t something I’m willing to do unless dire straits really come about.

This is my career, and I’m on fucking fire, but I need to eat. What do I do? I don’t qualify for welfare or food stamps.

Who’s looking over your shoulder as you write this? My guess is a concerned boyfriend or sibling who’s been out of town for a while and come back to find you looking like you need to be sponsored by Save the Children.

You’re a model/actress/whatever who’s been making excuses all morning why you can’t afford to eat and why you’re too busy poring over breakdowns or trying to get bookings to get a second job to pay for food, but things are great, and your career is about to take off.

Bitch, please. I can see right through you. Literally. There are entire apartment buildings in West Hollywood filled with your flavor of crazy.

Poverty is no excuse. No one with internet access and an LA dream job gets to act like this shit is Malawi. Proper nutrition is available for a few bucks a day, and no one in heels loses a third of her body weight without willful intent.

Since the only thing you’re filled with at the moment is denial, I’m gonna put this as plainly as possible: you have an eating disorder. Let me repeat that one more time for anybody else who’s there with you: she has an eating disorder, a massive one.

It sounds like you’ve been averaging less than four hundred calories a day, and to have dropped 45 pounds, it’s been at least three, possibly six months that you’ve been living like this.

At this point, your thyroid looks like the baby from Trainspotting, you haven’t taken an honest shit since bikini season, and you walk around shivering like Paris Hilton’s dog after a line of blow. You are not healthy, kid.

I know there’s no getting through to you, but maybe, just maybe, the boyfriend or sibling who’s all up in your shit right now will see this and decide to take action.

Get some treatment. Immediately.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. This isn’t about putting weight back on. This isn’t going to threaten your career. This isn’t going to get in the way of your dreams.

This is about getting healthy. You’re doing an incredible amount of damage to your body living like this. Deep down, on some level, even you know that.

Most folks will tell you it’s not worth it. Fuck that. I’m here to tell you it doesn’t have to be worth it. You can be healthy and have your dream job, but first you have to take a little time and get your mind right.

Best of luck. I really hope you beat this shit.

One of my worst fears is getting fat, and I hate myself for it.

You’ve got that backwards. You hate yourself, and therefore one of your worst fears is getting fat.

I’m not gorgeous, nor beautiful, nor even quite pretty. I’m honestly rather average. I know his flaws, both physical and personality-wise, and he knows mine, but my question is purely vain/physical: why, when he can and has dated model-material, would a man like that settle for someone like me?

Because you’re better than them.

Can someone change leagues through exercising, diet, promotions in their field of work, surgery, reading more books and improving their intellect?

Sure, you can change leagues, but try not to lose sight of what game you’re playing.

Will you please comment on the recent media interest in and admiration of the dad bod?

The ‘dad bod’ media trend is just the highly processed residue left behind after the deeper trend of body positivism was sanitized for mainstream white male consumption.

As a man, am I allowed to have any preference for what my girlfriend does with her pubic hair? I’m worried that expressing or having a preference of any kind would be very un-feminist of me.

It’s fine to have a preference, and it’s fine to express a preference if she asks, but expressing an unsolicited preference isn’t cool, and expecting your preference to take precedence over hers would be very un-feminist indeed.

Is it hypocritical of a person who advocates natural beauty to get a nose job?

Sure it is, but natural beauty is an inherently hypocritical concept. (Besides, just because you advocate it doesn’t mean you have any.)

Would people be nicer to me if I were thin and pretty?

Yep.

On stupid teenage shit

I’m 16 years old. And I really want to get a tattoo, but my parents won’t let me. It isn’t even something prominent! Just a word on my finger. But no. They’re acting all parent-y and lecturing me about it. I understand that they don’t want me to get something I would regret later, but I’m really sure about this. How do I convince them? :/

Jesus fuck, will whiny little cunts like you never learn? I’m not on your side.

You’re sixteen. I know you don’t look it, and I know you don’t feel it, but you’re still a fucking child. There is no convincing your parents. They’re right. You’re wrong. End of story.

If you want respect from people like me, you have got to quit the whining. That means either one of two things. Shut the fuck up and obey your parents, or engage in legitimate teenage rebellion.

I’d prefer it if you’d listen to your folks on this one, but maybe your balls are brass, so fair warning. If you get the tattoo without parental consent you will suffer consequences. Be prepared, and take it like an adult.

Also fair warning. Whatever this word is you want forever emblazoned on your finger at sixteen, I promise, you will eventually regret it, because the whole idea is stupid and juvenile.

On body issues

How the fuck can I feel sexy with stretch marks on my tits? I shouldn’t even have them in the first place; I’m only an A-cup. My previous boyfriends never said anything about them, but I still feel damaged and undesirable. There’s no permanent removal method that I know of, so how do I reconcile these scars?

We all have something we hate about our bodies. All of us. Everyone.

Get over it, or start saving up for surgery.

On penis size

From the very beginning you’ve made yourself out to be a straight-shooter with an awesome sense of humor. So, I pose this question: How MUCH does size matter?

Ever met a donkey-cock that flopped in the sack? A tiny guy with the hands (or tongue) of a god? While a guy’s size certainly helps, would you be willing to make an exception if he had other merits?

Gentlemen, please stop assuming that the dimensions of your genitalia are in any way a direct measure of your sexual prowess. Of course size matters, but not nearly as much as porn and late-night infomercials would have you believe.

This is a bell curve situation. There is an 80/20 rule at play here, with 10 percent at either end representing the really big and the really small.

If you’re wondering whether you fall into either extreme, you don’t. Trust me, fellas. You would already know. Your cock is not the biggest. Your cock is not the smallest. Give or take an inch or two in width and girth, most of you are essentially sporting the same equipment.

Do you get what that means?

Let me spell it out for you: if your cock is neither freakishly big nor freakishly little, by the time we’re in a position to size you up, the proportions of your penis are quite low on the list of things upon which we judge you.

Now, if you happen to fall into the 10 percent on either end of the spectrum, the same rules still apply. The bitter insecurity of a little-dicked guy is far more likely to ruin the mood than the actual size of his penis, just as the supreme confidence of a big-dicked guy is far more likely to impress than the extra meat he’s packing in his shorts.

And yes, we know how easy it is to manipulate you with this shit. You could be swinging eight thick inches of pipe, and we could still crush your ego with three little words, ‘I’ve had bigger.’ Why? Because you know there are a few guys out there with nine inches. It’s fucking ridiculous.

This shit drives me crazy. Really. I can’t wait for the human condition to reach a new stage of evolution where penis size is no longer a dominant cultural motif. Ugh. It’s right up there with world peace and no religion.

You may say that I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.

Does Barbie really create negative body images in young girls or is that argument as invalid as I think it is?

It’s not Barbie per se. Impossible beauty standards are what create negative body images in young girls, and Barbie just happens to be the unofficial mascot of impossible beauty standards.

Rate your own level of hotness between one and ten.

To answer with a number is to commodify myself and compete with my entire gender. Fuck that. No one should have to accept the premise of this question.

Why am I so jealous of better looking people?

You’re not jealous. You’re envious, and it’s because you want what they have.

What’s the difference between curvy and fat?

Advertising.

I’m a 29 year old woman — am I way too old for a nose piercing?

No, but you are way too old to be asking anyone’s permission to stick things into your stupid face.

Is it possible to be a feminist and still wear high heels and makeup? I just can’t seem to merge the two.

That’s because you don’t understand feminism, and you aren’t comfortable in your own skin.

On settling your own debate

Can please you settle a debate for us? My boyfriend says that repeated “pounding,” as he so eloquently calls it, will stretch out a woman’s vagina to the point where it’s “blown out.” I say this is such BS – the skin’s elasticity retains shape. Sure, after kids it might stretch a bit, but do porn stars or those who are frequently “banged” need to worry about “blown out pussy holes?” thanks.

No. I will not settle the debate.

If you don’t have the courage of your convictions in the face of such monumental stupidity regarding your own gender’s anatomy, then you don’t deserve to win the argument.

This is tough love. Be strong. Go make the world a better place by learning something on your own and then teaching it to your ignorant boyfriend so he shuts the fuck up.

On the tyranny of self-hate

My girlfriend hates her body intensely, seeing it as grotesque and flabby and too tall and too square and too boyish. It’s none of those things. She hates it if I compliment it or tell her she’s not any of those things, because she has a “right to feel this way.” What can I do?

Yes, I suppose self-hate and body issues are a natural-born right to girls across this great nation, but so is it your duty as a good boyfriend – nay, a good American – to stand up for your own First Amendment rights and shout to the fucking rafters that she is not only beautiful in your eyes, but beautiful in every way a woman can be.

Stand up to the tyranny of self-hate. Tell that girl she’s gorgeous.

On guys having no idea

One of my friends is a very pretty girl, but she has one fatal flaw—lady has a beard. Not just some peach fuzz, that’s one thing. She actually has a full on, blonde, lady beard. More than half my well-natured male friends could manage. How do I tell her, gently, that she would be absolutely perfect looking—minus the beard? I don’t just want to give her a can of shaving cream and a gilette razor.

Yeah, no. She’s well aware of her facial hair, and she knows better than to start shaving it, so unless you’ve got a couple grand lying around to pay for her electrolysis, I suggest you shut the fuck up.

On bucking the fuck up

Do you ever actually put yourself in other people’s shoes? You tell people to, but the thing is, you’re self described as smart, well-off, hot, and cool, and desirable as hell. Most of the rest of us aren’t. How are we seriously supposed to be able to behave and act the same way you do, and carry ourselves with your crazy confidence, and live our lives with so much dignity and confidence that you do, when most of us are barely one of those things? Get off your high horse sometimes and realize that most of us don’t possess the qualities you have, and it’s not because we haven’t tried hard enough or we’re spending too much self pitying. It’s because that’s the way it fucking is.

Get off my high horse? Fuck you.

Quit whining and do something fabulous with your life. You have an internet connection and a firm grasp of the English language. That’s already more than most.

I’m sorry that you didn’t win the genetic lottery, but tough shit. Most people are ugly, and none of us are as pretty as the freaks on TV. Get over it.

Buck up and have some fucking character. Chisel the chip off your shoulder and develop a little personal style.

Be interesting. Be positive. Be your own person.

Remember, dignity and confidence doesn’t flow from beauty. Beauty flows from dignity and confidence.

That’s the way it fucking is.

Why does being thin mean you have good genes? Can I not have awesomely curvy, Christina Hendricks-like genes? Bitch.

Sure, you can have awesomely curvy genes. You can also have inappropriately personal reactions to things that have nothing to do with you. Get the chip off your shoulder. Bitch.

Should I be ashamed at showing my breasts for free drugs?

The drugs weren’t free, sweetie. You paid for them. Whether it was with your dignity is entirely up to you.

How does a woman masturbate? Its a question I’ve wanted the answer to for a long time, and I don’t know anyone I trust enough to give me an honest serious answer.

A woman masturbates with her vagina. Now go finish your homework.

am i pretty?

Not when you’re asking needy questions.

Am I a bad feminist because I used to be anorexic?

Absolutely not. You’re a bad feminist for hating women. Well, one woman actually. Yourself. Quit it. You haven’t done anything wrong, girl. You are never your disease. Ever. Stop beating yourself up. Love yourself instead.

Is it true that I have cold feet because my vagina lets out all the heat?

Yes, and if you tape your vagina shut, your shoes won’t fit any more.

On painting over rust

I spent my high school years being a bitter introvert and wasting my time hating girls who had boyfriends, because nobody was attracted to me. But now in my first year of college I’m trying to start my life over. I have a new haircut and wardrobe, I lost 12 pounds, I smile at people, I joined clubs… and it isn’t working.

I don’t know, maybe there’s something I’m still doing really wrong. I thought the skirts and thinner frame and sunnier personality would make me more attractive, but of the handful of guys I’ve met here, I’ve still got no takers. It’s hard not to ask myself “Why?” and fixate on stuff like my teeth or scalp problem. Those old feelings of being ugly, smelly and undesirable are coming back, and I’m beyond done. I’m sick of being the girl who sits in the corner and really wants to say hi to the good-looking classmate, but won’t because she’s too afraid of looking awkward and being rejected. I’m tired of thinking that Man A or B is too gorgeous to get stuck with a double bagger like me, and resigning myself and giving up.

I figured if there was anybody to ask how to get some confidence and self-worth, you’d be the woman for the job.

A haircut and a diet is how you start bikini season – not a complete life change. You’re trying to mask an inner core of bitter anxiety and self-hatred with cosmetic changes. That never works.

All I’m hearing from you is teeth, scalp and skirts. It’s all spray paint and a thin coat at that. Come on, kiddo. Everyone knows you can’t paint over rust. You’re fooling yourself if you think this stuff makes you sunnier. Quite the opposite. You’re still very bitter.

Do you even realize how negative you sound? No one wants to put up with that kind of attitude. You can’t fake sunny. Positive energy radiates from your core. I appreciate that you’re trying to smile at people, but I bet that’s just a coat of paint too.

You can’t smile with bitterness in your heart. Not really. Sure, your face will make the right shape, but people can tell that it’s not real. A smile is a projection of an emotional state of love, and if your conscious mind is fixated on negativity, it’s gonna come off looking awkward, or worse, fake.

You want confidence? Okay. Give this ‘whole new you’ process one more try, but this time, start from the inside and work your way to the surface.

Those old feelings of being ugly and undesirable have been there the whole time, and you need to sandblast them off of your soul. There is no easy way to do it. You’ve got to use all your inner strength, and it has to be tougher than all that gunk to get the job done.

You have to be more sick of all this negativity than you are sick of sitting in the corner. Your desire to be friendly has to outweigh your fear of an awkward moment of rejection. I can’t tell you how to stop hating yourself, but that’s what you gotta do.

Never again referring to yourself as a ‘double bagger’ is a good place to start.

On not being pretty

I’m not pretty. It’s cool. Not everyone can be pretty. However, I don’t date a lot because well… I’m not pretty and I live in a college town where there are a lot of pretty girls. One of my guy friends keeps insisting I tell him why I don’t date (he has a girlfriend, he’s not trying to date me). How do I explain without sounding like I have super low self-esteem?

I don’t accept your implied premise that being pretty is a prerequisite for dating, nor do I accept your excuse that you don’t date a lot because you’re not pretty. Come on, bitch. You’re in college. Surely you know that correlation does not imply causation.

It doesn’t matter if you’re uglier than mormon sex, if you really wanted to be on a date right now, you could make that shit happen. This isn’t about your looks or your self-esteem. It’s about your priorities, and to some degree, it’s about your standards.

That’s not criticism, by the way. I’ve got no doubt that your priorities and standards are well adjusted. I’m just saying if you want to explain it to your guy friend, frame it in those terms.

In other words, you can tell him that you’ve got high standards, and dating just isn’t that high a priority for you right now. That’s the high self-esteem excuse you’re looking for.

Also, who the fuck is this guy that you owe him answers to personal questions in the first place? Friend or not, that shit isn’t any of his goddamned business, and you should feel free to tell him so.

Oh, and one more thing. You may not be a carbon copy of the local beauty standards, but that doesn’t mean you’re not pretty. You don’t know it, but I guarantee, every day you’re surrounded by people who think you’re hot.

Are you afraid of getting old?

No. I’m afraid of looking old.

How do I find the beauty to become confident if I hate everything about myself?

You did not hate yourself as a child. Somewhere along the way, you learned how. Retrace your steps and unlearn. Forgive yourself, and get rid of the negativity.

How can I let go of the belief that beauty matters?

Beauty does matter. Just quit letting other people tell you what’s beautiful.