Feminist Goes Commando For a Week: Schadenfreude Ensues

Source: Bustle (because nothing screams "progressive female empowerment" like Victorian era fashion, amirite?)

Pictured: Why I'm not surprised she conflates her personality with her axe wound.
The fugly British woman modeling her ill-fitting clothes above went commando for a week and wrote about the experience. Because empowerment, or something.

The article is intentionally vulgar and gross. Of course. "Lady Garden" is a phrase that has been burned into my soul. However, what is unintentional and hilarious is the glimpse into this "sex-posi babe's" personal angst and failure.

The article starts with the author's friends negatively judging her for not wasting money on frilly consumer products. Being the typical leftist, our frumpy hero decides to one-up their signalling by eschewing said products altogether. Beat that!

She does this with some reservations. Of course.

I worried about everyone... thinking of me as an unclean pervert...  Yet still, for the sake of... perversion I decided to go one week without any panties.

That is a completely retarded string of words, but it also provides valuable context. The underlying impetus for this woman writing gross things online is a deep-seated neurosis. She wants social approval, but she's also narcissistic. Of course.

Let's see how feminism attempts to resolve her personal crisis (lel).

In seven days the author skips class and bitches about her job in a clothing store. She breaks her experiment and wears underwear one day because low impulse control involving a dress she looks cute (read: less fat) in. She goes out drinking two nights in a week and fails to pick up a man. She mentions being drunk and lonely while jilling off. She talks about farting and pooping.

I think she is supposed to be really empowered. Except she's not. At all. I don't read someone who is in control of her life. Rather, I read someone who is constantly rationalizing her failings as a human being. I don't see a strong, independent woman in these pictures. I see some chunky girl with self-esteem issues whose eyebrows don't match her dyed hair and thinks cocking her head like a confused puppy is endearing (PROTIP: it's fucking not).

Pussying up her wardrobe isn't going to resolve her angst, and it's certainly not going to empower her long-term. It didn't even help her short-term: loneliness and more of the same was all that happened in those seven days.

What she really needs to experiment with is controlling her portions at the table and wearing clothes that don't make her look like a sloppy drug addict.

Oh, and not being such a vapid, narcissistic hambeast. I wager that would do wonders for her.

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Bulbasaur is a blue collar worker and part-time polemicist from the Southern U.S.