Worrying Development

…or maybe I should say reduction instead of development.

Longtime Readers will know of my longtime infatuation with the wondrous Nigella Lawson:

However, of late there appears to be a lot less Nigella than there was before:

…and in fact, she looks positively skeletal nowadays:

I’cw always preferred bigger, full-figured women with hourglass figures, and Nigella probably epitomized that preference. But this disappearing act? I like it not. Maybe it’s time to find another Real Woman, of more-appealing amplitude.

But I’m going to feel guilty about this; I’ve always been a one-woman kinda guy.

Then again:

 

 

Still Hot

I don’t know why the Brits persist in calling the DWI/DUI offence “drink” driving — as Dennis Farina notably said, “You guys invented the fucking language; why don’t you speak it?” It’s drunk driving, FFS.

Anyway, I see that Sky Sports presenter Kirsty Gallacher has been banned from driving because she was three times over the limit. Don’t care; she’s still a total hottie:

Volunteers for the job of Kirsty Gallacher’s chauffeur: the line forms to the right, over there. No pushing and shoving.

 

Gotta Have Pitchurs

I’m by no means a fan of horror movies — in fact, I avoid them like the plague for two reasons: either they’re so cheesy and horrible that they anger me, or else they’re so good that I have to sleep with the lights on.

Over at Insty’s, Stephen Green has a link to 7 Indispensable Horror Movies or something — which I don’t care about in the slightest — but he does suggest that any list of good horror movies which does not include at least one performance by Ingrid Pitt is suspect. Of course, Stephen should know better than to talk about the exquisite Miss Pitt when she is largely unknown outside the horror genre. So as a public service, allow me to rectify his oversight:

 

…and something a little more spicy:

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Eye Of The Beholder

So this Paris-based fitness blogger (no, I don’t know what that is either) decided to give us two views of herself — as men might see her and as she does. Here’s the object in question:

Here’s what I see: a reasonably-pretty woman, decent boobage (the bra doesn’t help), with the bandy legs and slightly large nose of the typical Parisienne. In a stone-cold sober state, I’d rank her somewhat above average: about a 7, maybe a 7.5 if she cleans up nicely. If she has a sexy walk or carries herself with confidence, she’s a definite 8, and I’d wager that most men would happily ask her out on a date.

Here, however, is the comparison she draws:

Good grief. This just goes to prove that there’s no fiercer critic of a woman’s body than the owner thereof.

Suddenly, she’s a lot less attractive. Ladies, take note: self-hatred is not sexy.

And if Miss Aubery is just doing this to attract attention to herself — what’s known today, cruelly, as “attention-whoring” — to build up her self-esteem, then that’s even less attractive.

Missing The Point(s)

Apparently all these women are desirable, according to scientists, because their figures have the ideal waist-to-hips ratio:

…which only proves that scientists don’t know diddly. None of the women can be called attractive.

Here’s a pro tip from a longtime lecher (that would be me): put Nigella Lawson in the lineup, and those other women wouldn’t rate a single look.

The perfect ratio is: big boobs, small waist, wide hips. Otherwise known as an “hourglass” figure, you pencil-pushing dweebs.

Afterthought: I bet that some of these purported “scientists” were female — which would explain everything.

 

 

Random Beauties

One of the great things about being a polymath is that I may be searching for something, and along the way find something else of equal or even greater interest in the search. Before this Intarwebz thing came along, such delightful discoveries usually came at the library, where I’d be looking for a particular book, and then, while walking down the aisle looking for it, I’d suddenly find another book on the same topic which looked more interesting than the original object of my search. A twofer! And, of course, checking out two books instead of one was a bonus.

Even as a callow yoof, I did the same thing at home. I’d be looking up something in the Encyclopedia Britannica (of course we had a set of encyclopediae — didn’t everyone?) and be flipping through the pages when suddenly — what? What was that? And off I’d go along a tributary of discovery, finding out something of equal or even greater interest than my original quest. (My younger Readers may not know what the hell I’m talking about, at this point: “Library? Encyclopedia? What the hell is the old fart talking about?” to which I can only suggest that they ask their parents to explain.)

Nowadays, of course, we have the Internet; and while there’s this cornucopia of information out there, there’s also a lot of crap which sadly, neither informs or educates, but simply obfuscates or misleads. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.

The other day I was looking for some biographical details on someone (forgotten whom), when I came across this little vision of loveliness:

Her name is Roxy Shahidi, she’s half-Iranian, and apparently she is in the cast of some forgettable British TV show (aren’t they all?). Whatever. Of course, I had to find some other examples of her pulchritude, just to make sure that wasn’t a lucky pic. Oh, good grief.

Sadly, of course, this is where a little too much information can spoil things: apparently young Roxy is a committed vegan, ergo as crazy as a sackful of cats. (I know, I know, she’s a British actress; can lunacy be far behind?)

But you have to admit: for a random discovery, she’s quite lovely.


Afterthought: I just remembered how I stumbled on Miss Roxy. I was searching for some information about American actress Sarah Shahi:

Coincidentally, Miss Shahi is also half-Iranian, so maybe that’s how the link came about. I don’t know if she is a vegan.