Monday, January 19, 2009
Inequality of the Sexes Justified
Everyone pretends there’s no disparity when it comes to the sexes. We say that women can do the same work men do and that they should receive equal pay for equal work. They claim that, other than anatomy, there’s really no difference between guys and gals. To that, I say, “Bull!”
Significant differences exist between males and females—and they should exist. I’m a dad, the father of two grown daughters. I raised my girls to believe the above sentiments. Heck, I actually thought I believed them myself. But then my daughters changed.
My daughters discovered “woman’s” undergarments. Now, I had discovered these in my early teen years (as a spectator only, of course), and I was quite impressed. I am not so impressed now that my daughters wear these items, themselves.
I remember shopping with my wife for my daughters’ “big girl panties” when we were potty training the girls. These undergarments had teddy bears, cartoon characters, kittens, flowers, polka-dots, butterflies—decidedly un-grownup decorations. They came in innocent colors like white and pink or, perhaps, a combination of the two.
Later, we moved on to the training bras (I never was quite sure what event their chests were training for, but my wife assured me that the training tops were necessary). This was not a fun time for me. No dad thinks his little girls are ready for upper torso support. But at least there was a modicum of comfort in knowing that these “bras” were still innocent even when my daughters wanted us to purchase the “bras” and panties in sets. These articles of clothing were still child-like enough, so I could deal with them.
As my daughters got into their middle teen years, I was no longer part of the USC, the Underwear Selection Committee. My checkbook was still involved, but my presence was no longer required. It was about this time that a different type of undergarment began to appear in my home. Gone were the pastels. Gone were the cartoons. Gone was the “cuteness.” Gone was half the material!
My daughters went from full-coverage to “cheekies” (one even occasionally wears—shudder—thongs). They wear crimson red, jet black, and leopard print panties with push-up Wonder—as in, it’s a wonder those things stay in—Bras. Some are lacey, some have “cutsie” cartoon characters, and some come with provocative words written in strategic (and inappropriate) locations. These are not panties that any father’s daughters should be wearing (or, in some cases, hardly wearing).
Here’s the difference between boys and girls in this regard: if I had had sons instead of daughters and they decided to progress from Bob the Builder or Spiderman underwear to “tidy whities” to boxers, I wouldn’t have any problem. For this reason alone, it’s okay for boys to grow up, but not for girls. I know it’s sexist, but it’s the way it should be. Ask any father with daughters. They’ll tell you.
Significant differences exist between males and females—and they should exist. I’m a dad, the father of two grown daughters. I raised my girls to believe the above sentiments. Heck, I actually thought I believed them myself. But then my daughters changed.
My daughters discovered “woman’s” undergarments. Now, I had discovered these in my early teen years (as a spectator only, of course), and I was quite impressed. I am not so impressed now that my daughters wear these items, themselves.
I remember shopping with my wife for my daughters’ “big girl panties” when we were potty training the girls. These undergarments had teddy bears, cartoon characters, kittens, flowers, polka-dots, butterflies—decidedly un-grownup decorations. They came in innocent colors like white and pink or, perhaps, a combination of the two.
Later, we moved on to the training bras (I never was quite sure what event their chests were training for, but my wife assured me that the training tops were necessary). This was not a fun time for me. No dad thinks his little girls are ready for upper torso support. But at least there was a modicum of comfort in knowing that these “bras” were still innocent even when my daughters wanted us to purchase the “bras” and panties in sets. These articles of clothing were still child-like enough, so I could deal with them.
As my daughters got into their middle teen years, I was no longer part of the USC, the Underwear Selection Committee. My checkbook was still involved, but my presence was no longer required. It was about this time that a different type of undergarment began to appear in my home. Gone were the pastels. Gone were the cartoons. Gone was the “cuteness.” Gone was half the material!
My daughters went from full-coverage to “cheekies” (one even occasionally wears—shudder—thongs). They wear crimson red, jet black, and leopard print panties with push-up Wonder—as in, it’s a wonder those things stay in—Bras. Some are lacey, some have “cutsie” cartoon characters, and some come with provocative words written in strategic (and inappropriate) locations. These are not panties that any father’s daughters should be wearing (or, in some cases, hardly wearing).
Here’s the difference between boys and girls in this regard: if I had had sons instead of daughters and they decided to progress from Bob the Builder or Spiderman underwear to “tidy whities” to boxers, I wouldn’t have any problem. For this reason alone, it’s okay for boys to grow up, but not for girls. I know it’s sexist, but it’s the way it should be. Ask any father with daughters. They’ll tell you.
Labels: bras, daughters, panties, Underwear
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