Why are so many Democratic/liberal women so insecure about their looks?

Clad in white while draped around a staircase like 18-year-old debutantes about to be introduced to society, the Democratic female members of Congress grinningly posed prior to President Donald J. Trump (R)'s 2020 State of the Union address.  After besmirching the legacy of the white-clothed suffragettes they claim to follow, most of them dutifully attended the annual event, sitting alongside their Democratic male colleagues who were not required to be  monochromatically attired.  

Ah, the freedoms of Democratic male patriarchy with corresponding willing Democratic female subservience.  But the subsequent spoiled brat behavior of all the Democratic senators and representatives, whether in attendance or not, further trashed the women's  image.

#MeToo was silent.

Two days earlier, at the entertaining Super Bowl halftime show, two scantily clad over-40-year-old women, who identify with one of the politically correct victim groups, shook it up to great acclaim, also without a peep from #MeToo.  

This contradictory duality is so confusing for the average middle-aged liberal female.  As writer Jennifer Weiner whines in the New York Times (naturally):

I Feel Personally Judged by J. Lo’s Body

Are we really supposed to look this good at 50 now?

Weiner piteously blathers that although she is Lopez's contemporary, her maternal body just can't compare with that of  the singer/dancer's.  I'll spare quoting you the full sob story of Weiner's oh so unfair, imaginary body competition with Lopez — #MeToo has no answers — but Weiner's solution to her liberal feminist problem is typical of liberals.  

Act like a man!  Yep!

The answer, I think, is to watch these types of performances like a man.

Women watch a 15-minute show featuring elite entertainers and, in some cases, end up feeling bad about ourselves.

Men, meanwhile, watch a three-hour game, played by elite athletes with single-digit body fat, and most won’t feel a single twinge of self-doubt, or miss a single chip from the nacho platter.

Women see inspiration or goals we’ve failed to attain or a pretty stick to beat ourselves up with. We hear a voice (sponsored by Weight Watchers and Revlon and Planet Fitness and Jenny Craig) whispering This can be yours, if you just work hard enough. Men see entertainment, athletes who exist on a different plane than mere mortals. Their inner voice whispers, Are there any more nachos? I don't even think it would occur to them to feel bad, or try to emulate what they saw.

And so, my fellow Gen X ladies, if you want to be J. Lo, more power to you. If you want to be Blanche, be Blanche. But if it's always been about Bea Arthur, come sit back here, with me, in your Eileen Fisher tunic and the newish bifocals you haven’t quite mastered. We’ll wait till the crowd goes home, and we’ll dance like nobody’s watching.

Ps-s-st Jennifer.  This not-liberal 50-plus-year-old female will now share a well known secret with you: there are plenty of self-confident women — maybe because they're conservative or aren't part of your social circle or neighborhood, you haven't met them — who watched the halftime show and, like your imagined men, didn't "feel a single twinge of self-doubt, or miss a single chip from the nacho platter" because they too "see entertainment, athletes who exist on a different plane from mere mortals.  Their inner voice whispers, Are there any more nachos?  I don't even think it would occur to them to feel bad, or try to emulate what they saw."

And since we're sharing secrets, here is another one: there are plenty of men, flabby or not, who, while watching the game, had numerous "twinges of self-doubt," who endure "inspiration or goals they've failed to attain" who also long for their hard bodied, youthful, athletic self as they grab another nacho chip.  Be kind to them.

Feel better now?  Wanna dance?  We can wear whatever color we want — even white.  I don't care who is watching my over-50 body, which is somewhere on the spectrum between J-Lo's and Patrick Mahomes's.  And you won't, either. 

Now, that's real #MeToo.

Clad in white while draped around a staircase like 18-year-old debutantes about to be introduced to society, the Democratic female members of Congress grinningly posed prior to President Donald J. Trump (R)'s 2020 State of the Union address.  After besmirching the legacy of the white-clothed suffragettes they claim to follow, most of them dutifully attended the annual event, sitting alongside their Democratic male colleagues who were not required to be  monochromatically attired.  

Ah, the freedoms of Democratic male patriarchy with corresponding willing Democratic female subservience.  But the subsequent spoiled brat behavior of all the Democratic senators and representatives, whether in attendance or not, further trashed the women's  image.

#MeToo was silent.

Two days earlier, at the entertaining Super Bowl halftime show, two scantily clad over-40-year-old women, who identify with one of the politically correct victim groups, shook it up to great acclaim, also without a peep from #MeToo.  

This contradictory duality is so confusing for the average middle-aged liberal female.  As writer Jennifer Weiner whines in the New York Times (naturally):

I Feel Personally Judged by J. Lo’s Body

Are we really supposed to look this good at 50 now?

Weiner piteously blathers that although she is Lopez's contemporary, her maternal body just can't compare with that of  the singer/dancer's.  I'll spare quoting you the full sob story of Weiner's oh so unfair, imaginary body competition with Lopez — #MeToo has no answers — but Weiner's solution to her liberal feminist problem is typical of liberals.  

Act like a man!  Yep!

The answer, I think, is to watch these types of performances like a man.

Women watch a 15-minute show featuring elite entertainers and, in some cases, end up feeling bad about ourselves.

Men, meanwhile, watch a three-hour game, played by elite athletes with single-digit body fat, and most won’t feel a single twinge of self-doubt, or miss a single chip from the nacho platter.

Women see inspiration or goals we’ve failed to attain or a pretty stick to beat ourselves up with. We hear a voice (sponsored by Weight Watchers and Revlon and Planet Fitness and Jenny Craig) whispering This can be yours, if you just work hard enough. Men see entertainment, athletes who exist on a different plane than mere mortals. Their inner voice whispers, Are there any more nachos? I don't even think it would occur to them to feel bad, or try to emulate what they saw.

And so, my fellow Gen X ladies, if you want to be J. Lo, more power to you. If you want to be Blanche, be Blanche. But if it's always been about Bea Arthur, come sit back here, with me, in your Eileen Fisher tunic and the newish bifocals you haven’t quite mastered. We’ll wait till the crowd goes home, and we’ll dance like nobody’s watching.

Ps-s-st Jennifer.  This not-liberal 50-plus-year-old female will now share a well known secret with you: there are plenty of self-confident women — maybe because they're conservative or aren't part of your social circle or neighborhood, you haven't met them — who watched the halftime show and, like your imagined men, didn't "feel a single twinge of self-doubt, or miss a single chip from the nacho platter" because they too "see entertainment, athletes who exist on a different plane from mere mortals.  Their inner voice whispers, Are there any more nachos?  I don't even think it would occur to them to feel bad, or try to emulate what they saw."

And since we're sharing secrets, here is another one: there are plenty of men, flabby or not, who, while watching the game, had numerous "twinges of self-doubt," who endure "inspiration or goals they've failed to attain" who also long for their hard bodied, youthful, athletic self as they grab another nacho chip.  Be kind to them.

Feel better now?  Wanna dance?  We can wear whatever color we want — even white.  I don't care who is watching my over-50 body, which is somewhere on the spectrum between J-Lo's and Patrick Mahomes's.  And you won't, either. 

Now, that's real #MeToo.