What a load of crap.
"Why pretty isn’t (always) sexy."
I've been to the bar, on the dating scene, in the car repair and at the gym long enough to call bullshit. Just last night, working out with the after work crowd, the rail thin, deeply tan blonde with a bottom most men could cup in one large palm (barely contained in shorts equivalent to Vicky Secret panties), breasts wider than the span of her rib cage bouncing sprightly on the elliptical in front of me earned stares from the hot men, the average men, the unsightly men, the young men, the old men. Dumbfounded stares as each wandered by. Yet the beautiful girl in the room, pale, scrubbed skin, chestnut hair, classic Dresden features and legs so long they appeared gangly as she kicked them forward with each extended step, earned nary a passing glance. It’s the "bottled" image; qualities we've been weaned to believe represent what’s sexy.
Absolutely, confidence is key. But we’re physical beings and, despite the rhetoric, little trumps sexy on initial contact. The somewhat fuzzy, can’t really make out the face but tits quite clear blog photo, when posted to a personals ad online, results in many more responses than me straight on and covered up. Men become smitten by words, humor, empathy and how snugly and comfortably I fit in my own skin, tits included. But sometimes, I too just want my drinks bought and my ass pinched.