The fake boobs thread got me thinking about…well, boobs. (ha…remember when a pair of boobs meant 2 stupid guys?..my grandpa used to say that) Anyway, like most men I’ve been unintentionally drawn to lok at women’s chests even when I’m trying not to…but i’ve also met women who have gone as far to admit that they use their real or fake boobs to manipulate men. One girl I knew once not only got out of duty (army) with them, she got manipulated the 1st Sergeant having me do it. (because i was the fist person he saw while she was holding her chest out as far as she could in front of him…believe me, she had some guns on her. And she told me later she did it on purpose.)
So I’d like to know if there are any ladies out there that do things like this and are willing to admit it. As sexist as it sounds I’ve seen pretty girls (especially ones with big titties) get away with things that no one else could.
I’ve never done it, probably because I’m a bit shy. However, Hubby and I had a friend who blatantly and openly exploited her looks to get what she wanted. She was a very fun girl and had a great sense of humor about it, so very few people resented her for it.
She told me about the trouble her wing of the building was having with getting their air conditioning fixed. It was as hot as hell in there. Our friend had a supplemental window unit in her office which wouldn’t work, either. She called the maintenance office, who’d been telling everyone that it would be weeks before they could get to it.
She purred and cooed into the phone at the man on the other end. “I’m sooooo sweaty!” Her air conditioner was fixed that very afternoon.
I do, and I have no qualms about it. Would anyone ever tell you that you shouldn’t use your superior brain to get what you want? Or your superior means? Of course not! So I see no problem with using my superior appearance. Use whatever advantages you’ve got, people!
My little girl is four years-old and a very bright, headstrong child. (Above Halloween pics taken at ages 2 and 3).
I, her mom, her female instructors, all get treated the same. “Yeah, OK, whatever, when I get around to it.”
Some boy gets her attention… Jesus, it’s a totally different child. She tucks her chin, looks upwards, bats her eyes, and smiles in a way that highlights her dimples. Her voice gets all whispery… my God, it’s the damndest thing I’ve seen.
And I haven’t the slightest idea where she gets it: Trust me, her mother doesn’t act like that at home!
I do, and I’m an expert at it. My entire wardrobe is built around using what I’ve got to my advantage. The way I figure it, this body and face aren’t going to last for long, so I’d better use them while I’ve got them.
Ladies, even if you don’t actively use your looks to manipulate us, it still does. Heck, you could be wearing a potato sack, and all we’d be thinking is, “I bet she looks hot under there.” We’re weak like that (well, we’re weak in lots of ways and we only shine when it comes to hammering stuff or opening jars).
I don’t do it often, but I have found that occasionally a little flirting can help move things along. If I can get something done faster with a little smile and some lingering eye contact, s’okay by me.
And I therefore assume that you never complain or feel insulted or demeaned when a guy looks at your chest or body when talking to you, or leers, or stares, correct?
I’ll field that one. I don’t dress provocatively, unless the event calls for it (going out to a club, for example), but I do wear figure-conscious clothing. Go on and have a look, says I. Harmless fun. When we’re having a conversation, however, I expect you to tear your attention away from my tits to look at my face because that’s what adults do.
Not intentionally–I’m suck when it comes to flirting on purpose. I almost wish I didn’t, lots of women would kill for my figure so I might as well use it to it’s full advantage. But I’m sure my looks have helped me a time or two without me trying or even noticing.
I did when I was younger. I had a friend as a teen who used to like to remind me and recount to everyone we knew the time that we went to see Rocky Horror Picture Show together, and she wanted to get to the front of the line, but all her “excuse me”'s were being ignored, so I stepped up, tossed my waist-long reddish blonde hair and threw out my chest a bit, tapped a guy on the shoulder and smiled and said “Excuse me please.” She described the results with “parting of the Red Sea” magnitude. I do remember that all of those guys that let us cut ahead were smiling and had a certain enthusiastic tone in their voices as they said “sure,” “no problem,” etc. She swears the guys ignored her because she was flat-chested, and didn’t ignore me because I, um, wasn’t - and was bra-less, wearing a leotard with a sheer, low-cut blouse over it. It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was the attitude - she seemed to focus more on what she lacked, and I just focused on what I wanted.
Anyway, that’s just an example. But I quit doing that sort of thing in my 30’s. I guess I feel it’s not very dignified, and maybe a little pathetic, when a “middle-aged” woman does it. Or it just isn’t who I am any more.
Exactly. I’ve come to the conclusion in my long 20 years on this planet ( ) that, regardless of what I do, there will always be some people (and there are quite a few of them) who will never think of me as more than a pretty, young girl. Oh, I’m sorry: in 10 or 15 or 20 years, they’ll think of me as that middle-aged woman who was probably so pretty when she was younger. As I always say: I could cure cancer, AIDS, make peace in the Middle East, balance the federal budget, and get everyone in the country a free 50 inch plasma TV-- I’d still be “that pretty young girl that got lucky” (to some, again).
I could spend my life in frustration trying in vain to fight their ignorance, but I’m smart enough to know that they’ll never change. When it comes to people like I just described, I definitely use my looks (and their prejudices about them) to my advantage. Hell, (again specifically with the above mentioned group) it’s the biggest card I’ve got-- no one ever expects the young, pretty girl.
And it ought to be noted: don’t think that it doesn’t tear me up and leave me tremendously conflicted. I get so frustrated that, every so often, it will just get to me and I’ll cry (we’re talking, once in a great, great while). I wish I could just be an equal, but I don’t think it’s realistic that- at the junction in our society- that that’s possible. Heck, I don’t know if it ever will be. Am I setting back the “movement” by batting my eyes to get my way? You know, maybe. I honestly don’t know. But I can promise you that I do think about it a lot and the best conclusion I’ve reached is what I do.
Within reason- of course not. If my tits are hanging out for the world to see, of course you are welcome to stare like there’s no tomorrow. If you have half a brain cell, you will be smooth and have some tact in most situations; if not, I’m going to lump you in with the idiots I described above.
Don’t get me wrong, I still find myself getting upset when people judge me based on my age and looks-- it’s frustrating, even if I do know that it can- in some situations-- be an advantage. I’m babbling, but does that make any sense?
And also, it’s important to realize that there is a TREMENDOUS difference between a guy checking me out and a guy harassing me. Most of the time (you know, unless you catch me having a particularly bad day), I don’t mind if you stare at me, smile at me, wink at me, tell me I’m pretty, whatever. I do mind if you follow me around the grocery store, stalking behind me creepily, only to follow me out to my car (yeah, that’s actually happened a few times). I also mind if you and five of your closest friends decide that it’s a good idea to come up to me and tell me, in graphic detail, just what you’d like to do to my titties. That’s harassment and there is a huge difference between that and just leering.
Unless of course it is one of those times when you are using your tits to manipulate me, or course…
I’m mostly kidding here, or course - but as a guy I get a little tired of hearing women complain about being stared at, and how disgusting guys are, and how they are never treated with respect, all the while their tits, and asses are hanging out.
To me, if you are going to use your body and looks to purposely manipulate people to your advantage, you pretty much have to put up with some disrespect and ogling (stopping short of harassment, of course).
Someone made a comparison to using you brain to your advantage - if I use my intelligence to my advantage, I can’t get pissed when people start asking me questions and expect me to solve all kinds of problems.
If someone is weak enough that they have no alternative but to bow to the will of a hot woman, why should I be the bigger person and not take advantage of it?
And besides, why fight it? I never go out with the intention of manipulating men with my looks, but if they’re going to be weak-willed because they can’t stop staring at my tits, then else would I do but take advantage of it?
I lose a lot of respect for someone who will treat me differently because of my looks, whether that’s because I’m more attractive or less attractive or too tall or too fat or whatever. Therefore I have no problem with taking advantage if the opportunity is available to me.
I would like it stated for the record that I do not do this on purpose. When I was younger, I used my looks to get what I wanted a lot. It was too easy. And it was fun and an ego stroke to watch guys fall all over themselves to do whatever little thing I asked for. Yes, yes, very mature. I know.
I like to think that I’ve grown out of it, for the most part. I figure, if it’s something he really doesn’t want to do, my using that method just to get my way is a betrayal of what our relationship is about. Besides, he gives me most everything I want, anyway.
) that, regardless of what I do, there will always be some people (and there are quite a few of them) who will never think of me as more than a pretty, young girl. Oh, I’m sorry: in 10 or 15 or 20 years, they’ll think of me as that middle-aged woman who was probably so pretty when she was younger. As I always say: I could cure cancer, AIDS, make peace in the Middle East, balance the federal budget, and get everyone in the country a free 50 inch plasma TV-- I’d still be “that pretty young girl that got lucky” (to some, again).