I have been musing on the issue of body shape. There is still an awful lot of fat phobia out there, not just in the media, which we have all come to expect, but in blogland too.
In general, women tend to be far harsher toward fat than their male counterparts. They not only want to eradicate it from their own bodies but from those around them too. It's that Gillian McKeith mindset again. Ban Big Bums! If you're fat you're unhealthy! (Pah, feh, and bollocks.) If you are fat you will die! (Newsflash - we're all going to die. I'd rather die with a full belly and strong bones, so fuck off.)
Adequate body fat on women gives us our feminine curves, produces oestrogen and makes us fertile. This basic biological fact is what triggers desire in most men. Hardly surprising then, that our unskinny forms have long been an inspiration to artists from the stone age onwards. (Yeah, it wasn't just Ruebens, you know).
Then, as I bopped about doing the ironing, with my Ipod Shuffle on, I suddenly noticed how many songs also sing the praises of the fuller female form.
There are the obvious ones like Sir Mix-a-lot and his I Like Big Butts:
So Cosmo says you're fat
Well I ain't down with that!
'Cause your waist is small and your curves are kickin'
And I'm thinkin' bout stickin'
To the beanpole dames in the magazines:
You ain't it, Miss Thing!
Or Queen and their Fat Bottomed Girls:
Oh wont you take me home tonight?
Oh down beside your red firelight
Oh and you give it all you got
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin world go round
Then there's Mika and Big Girl (You Are Beautiful):
You take your skinny girl
Feel like I'm gonna die
'Cause a real woman
Needs a real man here's why
You take your girl
And multiply her by four
Now a whole lot of woman
Needs a whole lot more
And Shaggy growling It Soon Be Done:
I'm gonna lay down beside my big thing
Lay down and love her till the morning,
Lay down beside my fat thing, oh my
Lay down and love her all night
There's even the lovely Kate Bush, and The Warm Room just to prove it isn't only men who sing praise to the plump:
In the warm room
You'll fall into her like a pillow.
Her thighs are soft as marshmallows.
Say hello to the soft musk of her hollows.
Now, I could be wrong, and I am relying on you guys to point out where I am, but there just don't seem to be any songs that sing the praises of possessing hip bones you can slice bacon on and having tiny tits.