I AM A WOMAN AND AN EDITOR, AND BUXOM, BUDDY
That’s me, and (WARNING) this is about to be TMI.
I am a person who wears a DD bra.
This is relevant because I recently received a piece, from a man, railing against women who wore size double d.
I do not think I hide it, on Devil’s Party Press, that I am a female, that the business is 51% female-owned, that it is important to me to be able to publish women when I can, but maybe it is a big secret? Like my bra size? LOL.
The piece went on and on about women with large breasts choking men, forcing men to breastfeed as babies, and later to suckle on overly large breasts in order to get any action, or some such thing, and how unfair this was. The tyranny of the large-breasted, dare I say, buxom, woman.
I knew, mind you, that I was going to hate it before I even opened it. Why? Because the fellow (I withhold the term author here) told me I was going to love it. That librarians (I assume he was imagining Marian from THE MUSIC MAN) would SWOON, was the word he used. Many women had been his poor beta readers, apparently, and they had loved it. (Had they? Was he paying them to say that? Beta prostitution?) AND he made some joke about his age, which is always a dead giveaway: “Oh boy and how am I over 40, lol!” “I certainly meet your criteria, so I know you’ll love my piece!”
Listen I’m 58, but I’m not making dumb jokes about my age,
Truth be told, I’m not making any dumb jokes. I’m pretty fucking funny, in general: sharp-witted and sharp-tongued too. Just ask the fam., who have to put up with it.
And I’m going to tell you what I think about this petitioner: he feels to me to be old as fuck, in his actual person, not his number. He feels lacking in virility. He feels ignored by women and wishes he weren’t, and he’s got a bone to pick. And he’s an idiot, because he did ZERO investigation into Devil’s Party Press, or me, and he just saw, “THEY WANT OLD PEOPLE!”
In fact, old people are not at all what I want. In no way shape or form do I want old people. If you are old, walk on by, as slowly as you must. I am 58 people, and, as a younger person I edited recently said to me, “Who is 58? No one is 58!”
Yup. 58 is, on the calendar of youth, pretty freaking old.Technically I am too old for the fun party. But I am not an old person. Get me?
So I don’t want people who are sending me their stuff because I said I want old people. I do not. I want good writers who are smart, crafty, funny is always a huge plus, and yes, I’d also prefer them to be past birthday #40. But I don’t want anybody stodgy, cranky, etc. No no no.
The oldest person I’ve published is sometimes old-fashioned, but also fun, vibrant, kind, over 90, and “woke.” Him I want to publish.
May I say, with apologies to all the wonderful authors I know, and work with, who are men, and who are over 40, and who are also interesting, clever, and funny, and who can write, WTF is up with men, STILL?
How is this man going to send me a piece complaining about women’s breast size? AS IF any of us could help it without going under the knife! AS IF pleasing HIM was the whole point of our having breasts?
And then he sends it to me? Had he seen my non-hidden blog? If you’ve seen it you’ll see my tattoo up there at the top of the page, and it is GIRL POWER. And I’m tempted to say “How dare you?” but I know the answer: mysogyny, libido, ego, tiny little dick, probably white, and probably thinks of himself as monied. And he has been a victim of boobies! His whole life, and it’s not fair!
I remember driving to work one morning in the ‘90s in Philly, and on the “cool” radio station, the three DJs, two guys, one girl, were all discussing how a boob should fill a champagne coup, and no more. That’s the size of mine, if you like about 4 inches of the swirl on top above that rim. I instantly felt less-than, and how dared they? I’m the one lugging them around, and what am I going to do with them, oh mighty has-been DJs? Where do you expect me to offload this part of my body, as much a part of it as my arm, that you find unattractive? Hopefully those two guys, and their complicit female, are all in some backwater burg on the overnight shift where they belong. And mister author-wannabe: My mom choked me on her double d boobs! if there is any justice, you’ll never see a naked tit again.
As a publisher, and as an editor, both, when asked to publish someone’s work, and when asked to edit it, I see, again and again, jokes at women’s expense, jokes about women’s bodies, jokes about being female, insults, sexism, body-shaming, tropes, stereotypes, females described like produce or dessert. If, overall, I feel the person is trying to achieve humor, or something they’ve seen in a movie, I will try to gently educate them that they are horribly wrong, and will likely offend and alienate a ton of readers, some of whom are men who have wives and daughters and who don’t like the objectification of half or more of the human race. Usually they’re shocked and apologetic, and ask for more help to work on it. Which I am glad to gently continue giving, to bring them along slowly, to give the benefit of the doubt. In a world that keeps wanting to be patterned after the MAD MEN days, when talented jerks like Frank Sinatra reigned supreme, I can understand that they might be completely blind to the idea that any of that is no longer okay. Um, guys, it is no longer okay. And it never should have been.
And yes, there are some women, some in my own family, honestly, who think all of that stuff is just boys being boys, but I don’t. And I am, frankly, appalled all the way to DEFCON double D by it. What, then, is girls being girls? Do I get to complain about all the men who dress appallingly? Who have let themselves get saggy? Who smell? Who have no style and no hair and no physique? Who think that a working dick, or a viagra assisted dick, is all they need? Oh, and their smooth banter, and their interesting stories about their own lives.
I know it’s shocking, my choice of words and my tone. How dare I?
The man with the boob story alleged that his mother, when he was a baby, tried to choke him on her gigantic breasts, and that women have been doing it ever since, shoving their unwanted massive breasts in his face when he was looking for teacup models. Truly. Oh where oh where were the women with the streamlined breasts?
Well, they ain’t here. And this is my advice, to all aspiring authors, if you want someone to publish your work, do a little legwork first, and find something out about the person you’re sending it to. Maybe, like me, they are a size double D.