Typically when we (okay fine, I) write a line-by-line fisking of something written elsewhere, it’s entirely over-the-top and solely for comedic purposes. (Here’s a nice example.) This one will feature plenty of that, but overall this isn’t going to be a simple, empty calories entry like the fiskings before it. It will only be mostly empty calories. On June 11, a woman named Lauren who writes a lifestyle-type blog called Apples and Band-Aids Blog posted an article called, “My Husband Doesn’t Need To See Your Boobs“. [Update: Lauren has thankfully removed this post from her blog. Luckily for me, the internet never forgets and nearly all of it is included in this post.] Beyond the fact that it’s moronic as can be, it’s downright demeaning (and not just towards men). In fact, my main issues with it aren’t the things she asserts about men, although they are insulting and asinine. Let’s go line-by-line and break this down so we can hopefully take some sort of good lessons (and laughs) out of this shameful, toxic mess.

I can’t believe I’m writing this. I can’t believe I’m writing this. I can’t believe I used the word boobs in the title of this post.

I can’t believe you’re writing this. I can’t believe you’re writing this. Wait, boobs? Do go on.

I got enough purity lessons in high school to invoke a gag reflex any time I heard the word modesty. I remember wanting to crawl out of my skin when my Bible school teachers discussed appropriate *touching*. Ugh, that still makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little.

If there’s anyone who’s teaching someone who’s about to teach us about what’s appropriate and not appropriate, it should be Bible school teachers. Seriously, Bible standards are great and relevant barometers for modesty in the twenty-first century! Thus, anyone who attended Bible school must be an authority on the topic.

Growing up, my father carefully examined everything I wore out of the house. There was a stack of clothes in his closet that I was never allowed to wear, even if I had just ripped the $54.99 tag off. If it was too short, too tight, too low-cut, or too anything, it went in the pile in his closet.

This behavior from a father towards his daughter isn’t demeaning, repugnant or alarming at all! Dropping the sarcastic tone for a minute, I’m going to assume Lauren didn’t decide to sport nothing but two sea-shells up top and a skimpy bikini bottom with the words “OPEN FOR BUSINESS” right on the butt (retail: $54.99) to Bible school growing up, so this type of KGB policing is downright disturbing from her father. It at least shows that her worldview on this topic is so distorted because of her upbringing and it’s not completely her fault.

Once I came home with this beautiful pair of khaki-colored stretch pants. The making of such a thing should be a sin to begin with, but I loved them all the same. I wore them out of the house one time, felt super hott {yes, with two ts} and into Dad’s closet they went.

Making clothes is a sin. Okay. I read this paragraph and felt super sickk (yes, with two ks). I actually lost approximately 18 points off of my IQ simply from reading this paragraph. Maybe I should go to Bible school for a few weeks.

Being the insightful teenager I was, I decided my father clearly didn’t want me to be happy.

You were far more insightful back then.

So I snuck into his closet, grabbed the pants, and double layered them with jeans on top. Once at school, I went into the bathroom and shed the outer layer, leaving my khaki stretch pants and all my glory to be seen.

You go girl!

On the way to my first class, after three Dang, girl! comments from {ahem} fine, upstanding young men, I realized why Dad had hidden those suckers away.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever confessed this to him. Hey, Daddy—ummm, sorry.

So let’s recap Lauren’s takeaways from her SUPER REBELLIOUS PANTS ADVENTURE:

  1. “Ew, I absolute hate it when people find me attractive.”
  2. “Because three high school boys made an immature, but pretty harmless comment to me any clothes that make women look attractive are the devil’s work.”
  3. Most importantly: “I liked the way I looked in those pants, but since some boys made comments and my controlling dickhead of a father disapproved, I should feel guilty for wearing them.”

This is where we reach really troubling territory. (And you thought we were there when she described her father, who may or may not have been Joseph Stalin.) This article is one of the most offensive pieces of slut shaming I’ve ever read, mainly because of the cutesy image it portrays to mask its toxicity. It’s so offensive that it offended me and I’m hardly a feminist. (By “hardly a feminist,” I mean that I support the feminist movement about as much as Donald Sterling supports minorities living in his apartment complexes.) This woman is the latest to jump on the unbecoming bandwagon of people who think women and girls should feel guilty about the clothes they wear if people disapprove or ogle. This is ridiculous. Girls should always be comfortable wearing exactly what they want (within common sense reason, not Bible reason), no more and no less. If you take nothing else from this 2,000 word monstrosity of a screed I’m spewing, take that. Want to wear turtlenecks and sweatpants year-round? Great! Want to show some skin because you eat absurdly healthy, work out everyday and have a fantastic body as a result of that hard work? Have at it; you earned it! Assholes will judge or hoot, but they’re assholes. Slut shaming like Lauren’s post has way too prominent of a voice on and off the internet and I for one (again, not even close to a feminist) have finally had enough to say something. Respect each other, people. Respect a girl’s right to wear what she wants. (And it goes without saying but respect a guy’s right to do the same.) Come on. It’s silly that it even needs to be said, but here we are. Thanks for bearing with me through that, let’s get to some lighter stuff.

I’m not writing to tell all the teenage girls to respect their bodies. It’s a must, but plenty of people are saying that.


I’m not writing to chastise you for posting your bikini pics from your lake outing. I suppose we all have enough criticism via blog spaces.

You may not be writing this post for that specific purpose, but chastising hot girls for posting bikini pics from a lake outing is exactly what you are doing, Lauren.

But I am writing to share the perspective of a woman who is fighting for her marriage. And for that reason, I want to tell you that I don’t need my husband to see your boobs.

“I’M SERIOUS, LADIES! IF MY HUSBAND SO MUCH AS SEES ONE INCH OF CLEAVAGE, HE’LL BE GONE SO FAST THAT THE AIR BEHIND HIM WILL MAKE THAT CARTOON SOUND EFFECT! By the way, we have a great marriage and we’re quite happy together.” Did this woman marry Mike Tirico?

If I was skinny with rock-hard abs and legs from here to Mexico, I’d want to take lots of pictures of myself. Mostly naked. I would want to post them with a nice filter on Instagram, and share them with whoever might see. By the grace of God I’m forever bound to the granny tankini with a built-in skirt. File that away with #thingsIneverthoughtI’dsay.

Wait, so if you were hot you would throw on a skimpy bikini and pose like Kate Upton but back when you were hot you couldn’t even wear tight pants for five minutes without feeling shameful? What? File that away with #explicitcontradictionsthatdetractfromyourpoint. Meanwhile, how does this woman not know that YOU CAN’T PUT AN APOSTROPHE IN A HASHTAG? On Twitter, she would have just filed that away with #thingsIneverthoughtI. Sorry, I had to.

Anyways, what I’m saying is I don’t fault you. I don’t blame you for being confident enough to let the world see how good you look in front of the waves with your coozie and ballcap and barely anything else.

“ANYWAYS” IS NOT A WORD! Grammar pet peeve aside, great! Glad that’s all resolved. That wraps things up. See you on our next DCIAB post, 17 Things You Won’t Believe This Little Boy Fit Into His

But I want to tell you that it’s a stumbling block in our marriage.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

When I scroll through my news feed, my thumb moves in a continuous circular motion until something catches my eye and I want to look closer. And then I tap on the picture and make that little swipe with my thumb and pointer finger so I can zoom in just as close as I can to capture all the details. I’m especially bad about this when there is a line of bathing suits in the pic. AND I’M A GIRL. Mostly I’m looking at your legs asking myself, How are there seriously people without cellulite???? And then I continue scrolling through my feed until something else seems interesting.

“My husband doesn’t need to see your boobs, BUT I DO! By the way, I also need you turn around and give me a nice ass shot so I can examine the back of your legs. You think the Total Frat Move bros gawking and drooling at the Tumblr of USC’s Kappa Kappa Gamma chapter are bad? You obviously haven’t seen my other blog, 43-Year Old Women Who Have Somehow Staved Off Cellulite, A Scientific Visual Analysis.

I doubt my husband is so lucky. Actually, I know it’s next to impossible to take in images like those and erase them from his mind. Because our men are much less emotional and are much more visual. And as quickly as I can forget your picture, it is filed away in his mind, ready to be pulled back out whenever he so chooses.

How exactly does she know what it’s like to be inside the head of a man? I don’t want to dwell on this part too much, because I don’t think it’s important. Everyone can see the stupidity behind arguing girls shouldn’t wear revealing clothes simply because she doesn’t want her husband to see that, so this part isn’t my concern. But, still. I mean comethefuckon. Lauren, do you think we all have a photographic memory that automatically activates upon seeing boobs? That’s waaaaaay too good to be true. Seriously, I would pay money for that superpower. I don’t even have the ability to remember what I ate for breakfast, let alone the ability to store high resolution JPEGs from Bar Refaeli’s latest bikini shoot in my head. I think I need to speak with her husband about his gift.

Again, I am not faulting you. And by no means am I faulting him. This man of mine diverts his eyes from whatever questionable images flash on the screen before him. But sometimes the temptation is too much.

You have a husband who actively diverts his eyes from boobs, AND YOU’RE CONCERNED THAT YOU’RE GOING TO LOSE YOUR MARRIAGE BECAUSE OF GIRLS SHOWING OFF THEIR BOOBS. *cut to Buzzfeed article entitled One Harry Kroll Who Just, Like, Can’t Even Right Now*

After Memorial Day, I noticed so much skin on social media that I half-yelled a warning to him as I ran out the door one morning. It’s summertime, honey! Beware the beach pics and half nude girls on Instagram! And like that, he was in solitary confinement from all virtual community for the next two days. Protecting his eyes, protecting his heart.

I bet you $20,000 this guy triple-screened Instagram on his phone, iPad and laptop all at once anytime his controlling, insecure wife left his side over the next 48 hours. He then died instantly from the mind-corroding poison of seeing some PG-13 beach pictures of this one girl he knew in college because his wife wasn’t there to protect his eyes and heart. Tragic.

I know you don’t mean anything by it. But I need to share one more thing with you.When your bare shoulders and stretchmark-less bellies and tanned legs pop up, I not only worry if my husband will linger over your picture. I worry how he will compare me to you. As I wrap myself into his arms at night, I wonder if he is seeing you there instead of my mess of a body left over from pregnancy. I wonder if he thinks I’m lazy and that I don’t take good care of myself. I wonder if he wishes I looked more like you than who I really am. And then the insecurity monster comes back to bite at our relationship again…me, begging for affirmation, and him tiring from saying the same thing over and over.

Honestly, this insecurity is just sad and I can’t bring myself to even make fun of this paragraph. This is a really unfortunate case of a father who acted so awfully towards his daughter that he ruined her emotional health for life. And now, she’s furthering the chain of emotional abuse by making a run at the confidence of teenage girls everywhere (not to mention my sanity and faith in humankind). I could go through the last few paragraphs, but I think we’re done here.
Some knowledge takeaways from Professor Kroll:
  1. Fathers, please listen to John Mayer and be good to your daughters. If I have to read one more article like this, I’ll probably have an aneurysm and this is all because some middle-aged asshole emotionally abused his daughter when she was young.
  2. Lauren needs to seek counseling for her insecurity. I don’t mean to joke about this; it would be great to see her get the help she desperately needs.
  3. Girls should be able to wear what they want without guys being creepy and women being nuns about it. This is easily the most simple takeaway here. Just don’t be an asshole to people because of what they wear.
  4. If you’ve managed to get all the way down here through 2,000+ words, you’re awesome and thank you so much.

Kroll out.