What is it with men and topless women? I just donâ€™t understand why they insist of having them plastered all over their wall / computer / phone and calendarsâ€¦ it’s bad enough that we can’t open a tabloid without staring at someone’s breasts every morning, but how would blokes feel if page two of every newspaper was a picture of a naked fella?
Does anyone else find it unnerving when you’re sat there with a guy, thinking about how you could murder a pizza and a glass of wine, and all you can see is a teeny-waisted girl staring back at you, gloating; “I’m fitter than you.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against these girls, my fellow columnist Karly Ashworth is probably the prettiest page three girls I’ve ever seen, and I know there’s no way on earth my man would have a chance with her, but I still don’t like the idea that he looks at these teeny women with perfect skin and hair and nails and bums and boobs whilst I’m waddling around with my non-tanned skin and wondering why I can’t live up to them?
Someone said to me last night; “Memphis, the more weight you lose, the less confident you become.” And I think it’s trueâ€¦ but no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be like them, does that mean I’m not enough?