Sometimes when I look at beautiful women and then frumpy women, and then back again, I’m overwhelmed by the feeling that I’m looking at a different species. A different breed. Just as the elegant athletic lines and purposeful snout of a Siberian husky are worlds apart from a waddling bootfaced pug, the clean curves and majestic features of a top-drawer woman are worlds apart from the stove-pipe block that is a modern woman. Miss Worlds apart.
In the unlikely event Hugo Chavez rolls his fat thieving socialist arse out of the hospital bed he’ll surely attempt to make Miss Venezuela – now Miss World – his concubine. I certainly would. Just look at her. Beautiful.
Who could possibly object to such a fine specimen of female beauty gracing the world’s stage, shining her star for the pleasure of millions of men and a role model for young girls to aspire to.
Oh, someone objects.
Two different breeds.
What possible motive could this ugly rabble of halfwits have to wish to stop women being judged on their beauty? Would they perhaps be making a virtue out of necessity?
Look at them.
Telling the world you aren’t ugly doesn’t make it so. If any readers stumble upon a photo of a beautiful feminist, please let me know. Photos of unicorns, bigfoot, or a PUA Hater’s girlfriend also welcome.