Article by Nicky Dumbell (click below for more Nicky Dumbell)
I was thinking of ten questions about the appeal concerning ‘buff birds’. The first and most predictable question would have been how can you possibly want anything to do with a women who looks like a man. This is the default defensive strategy question. I can understand where that question might originate from (perhaps ignorance and insecurity?), but such a sweeping generalisation makes for a pat argument.There are no borders or boundaries separating masculinity and femininity, apart from the obvious common denominators. The rest are a series of increments and degrees that vary right across the board. It’s the proper BIG MUSCLE BITCHES who don’t so much as push the envelope but rather stuff the envelope who give everyone else a bad name.
The insults can get a lot nastier than man jokes, but what actually constitutes masculine features on a lass, any amount of muscle mass at all? Short hair? I’ll be the first to admit that one or two, without makeup, in a suit, with a cropped wig, could pass for a bloke. No problema whatsoever. I’m not standing here saying none of them look like men and I want to sleep with them all till dawn. I’m not saying any such thing. It’s my intention to say as little as possible about the matter, actually, and I hope that what I’ve said so far doesn’t seem like I’m getting defensive myself.
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Basically, it’s highly interesting to see how far some people are prepared to push the limits of human potential – ESPECIALLY WOMEN. A man in knickers, or a woman in knickers? You decide.
The fact is, pictures and images speak for themselves. You either like them or you don’t. Of course, as with anyone, you look at a member of the opposite sex and you judge them physically, maybe subconsciously, most of the time. You measure their attractiveness. You might think phwoar!, or eugh!
There are no subliminal messages with a big muscle bitch. They inevitably evoke a very conscious reaction. They’re like flashy concept sports cars. They’re extreme. That’s why they stand on stage, like rare breeds of exotic animals from forgotten islands. It’s ever so unusual to meet one on the street, in this part of the world.
Different story for men. Gyms, streets, nightclubs – you name it – they’re all teeming with muscle-bound ‘apes’. Why is it that so few females in comparison are obsessed by the shape of their physique? All that time spent on fashion and makeup but no interest in doing skullcrushers or kickbacks or butt blasters? Whenever I’ve been into a modern gym, which is not very often, there have been more women than men doing cardio exercises, using treadmills and cross trainers and the like. In that respect, i.e. inclination for fitness, it may be an even keel; not so true of the weights room, which is a predominantly male dominated arena.
I’m boiling this down to steroids, I’ve decided. That’s the penultimate factor in this. There’s no amount of natural physical toil a man or woman can do, unless they have freaky genetics to start off with, that can result in them looking abnormally huge. The natural way makes you look ‘developed’, whereas only the drug-enhanced way can make you look like a mass monster.
I guess it washes down to the perfect blend. Someone who has aided their favourable genetics with honest natural slog and then enhanced their honest natural slog with modest drug assistance. It’s no secret that genetics is the most important though. There will always be that individual with a God-given, stunning figure who has never set foot in a gym.
The fact is, pictures and images speak for themselves. You either like them or you don’t. Of course, as with anyone, you look at a member of the opposite sex and you judge them physically, maybe subconsciously, most of the time. You measure their attractiveness. You might think phwoar!, or eugh!
There are no subliminal messages with a big muscle bitch. They inevitably evoke a very conscious reaction. They’re like flashy concept sports cars. They’re extreme. That’s why they stand on stage, like rare breeds of exotic animals from forgotten islands. It’s ever so unusual to meet one on the street, in this part of the world.
Different story for men. Gyms, streets, nightclubs – you name it – they’re all teeming with muscle-bound ‘apes’. Why is it that so few females in comparison are obsessed by the shape of their physique? All that time spent on fashion and makeup but no interest in doing skullcrushers or kickbacks or butt blasters? Whenever I’ve been into a modern gym, which is not very often, there have been more women than men doing cardio exercises, using treadmills and cross trainers and the like. In that respect, i.e. inclination for fitness, it may be an even keel; not so true of the weights room, which is a predominantly male dominated arena.
I’m boiling this down to steroids, I’ve decided. That’s the penultimate factor in this. There’s no amount of natural physical toil a man or woman can do, unless they have freaky genetics to start off with, that can result in them looking abnormally huge. The natural way makes you look ‘developed’, whereas only the drug-enhanced way can make you look like a mass monster.
I guess it washes down to the perfect blend. Someone who has aided their favourable genetics with honest natural slog and then enhanced their honest natural slog with modest drug assistance. It’s no secret that genetics is the most important though. There will always be that individual with a God-given, stunning figure who has never set foot in a gym.
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The flipside is that all this vanity is skin deep. Furthermore, self-obsessive and meaningless.
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