What Magazines Won’t Tell You About Your Body
Remember slamming forties of malt liquor in the yesteryears? Taking the 211 to 911 and laughing off the crazy night before with friends?
If I tried to down a Four Loko now I am pretty sure I would shit my pants and throw up on my dog. There is a slight gag coming on in the back of my throat just thinking of all the times I drank those. And Joose, the purple kind, my skin crawls.
When I was younger though, it was the best. I would take malt liquor any day of the week, two cans or a forty MADE YOUR NIGHT. You could hand me a craft beer and I would probably have called you a douche (okay, back in the day, young Briton had an affinity for calling people fags and I don’t feel it fair to lie and pretend Forty Chugging Briton wouldn’t have called you a fag for handing him a fancy beer) and told you your stout tasted like unwashed butthole. You would have said, “You know what unwashed butthole tastes like? Who’s the fag now” and I would have violently attacked you for questioning my masculinity.
Nowadays, reformed F-word user Briton likes a good IPA. That’s India Pale Ale for those not in the know. My favorite thing to do is kick back, relax, turn on whatever sport is showing on ESPN and enjoy a cold bottle of a fancily brewed IPA.
“What happened to us?”
Slurs the messy drunk of the past.
Over time, our tastes change. Be it music, food, beer, even women. Just like I am not running to the TV for Saturday morning cartoons, I am not running out for the types of girls I liked in my youth. (I know youth, for me, is a relative term. I have three kids, bills to pay, and I am a good three years clean from Steel Reserve. It is about as old as you can get without purchasing a Life Alert button.)
My wife isn’t the girl I met. As a person or physically. My first memory of my wife was a tight ass, a firm belly and some breasts that looked like they may have been tiny planets. They also had a gravitational pull. I was hooked on that knockout down at the grocery store, going as far as to pay the extra few dollars for a rack of beer at her store just to get her to okay the sale.
She still has this chest that pulls me in from a room away, but her body has changed. Go figure, after providing me with three kids, she looks physically different. She has very much earned those tiger stripes on her stomach. The heels that once pushed her ass up have gone, in favor of comfier shoes, making it easier to chase two very active kids around. She has changed physically. The woman I am married to now is no longer the girl from the grocery store. Damn though, she is still a knockout.
I love her physically now, just as much as I did the first time I saw her.
What beauty magazines don’t tell you about, because they are written by women for women about men that women never cleared the men desires they are claiming as man secrets by the actual men they are trying to perfect your sex life with, is men love women. Men don’t love girls. Men love meaty, they love your body’s transformation post motherhood. What the magazines fail to mention, while being distressingly interested in trying to get you to stick your sneaky pinky in your man’s ass (seriously, stay away from my goddamn ass, Cosmopolitan), is that sexuality moves past physicality at some point.
Sexuality as a kid is physical. There is little to no understanding of how many inhibitions can be let loose once you get on the same mental wavelength with your partner. Oklahoma, Diana. (All married couples need a safe word)
As we have matured and become less partygoer and more parent, our tastes have matured. Yes, twenty year old us still is in there, still remembering the joys of tequila shots and sex that could be broken up any minute by perverted and nosy friends. Now, we still want to pull you in the bathroom and pray the TV holds attention of nosy kids for a quickie.
We still want you, and yes, the you we want is the you now. It isn’t the girl we met but the woman we decided to promise our lives to.
You won’t find that in a magazine, because they are too busy selling flowery scented insecurities. We aren’t kids anymore, but that doesn’t make you any less the hottie from back in the day. MILF porn is a thing for a good reason. Besides, those tiger stripes you earned that adorn your body? Those are exotic. Exotic is sexy.