Check out this part of a facebook conversation I had with my buddy yesterday* over this whole “change your profile picture to fight child abuse” bullshit…
*Yes, that was actually a back in October-ish, but I suck and forgot to click “publish”. My bad.
If only they’d start a trend of posting pictures of their tits. Ok, that could backfire as 2/3 of facebook is either grandma’s or underage girls. Either way, I’m not above sifting through thousands of ugly boobs to find the pair that I’ve always wanted to see.
Isn’t that what we’ve been doing since we turned 11 anyways?
The quest to lay eyes on the perfect set of tits is a long, arduous journey. But I’m sure that once it happens I’ll be able to die a happy man.
It’s like Areola Nirvana. I almost achieved it when I played strip poker with this broad in college.
Maybe it’s one of those goals that is just out of reach, literally and figuratively.
Such is the curse for guys like us, packed to the teeth with rippling bulginess. Fit chicks=no tits.
Now I’m weird in the fact that I can take almost anything that is said to me, said about me or literally anything I see and find some type of lesson in it. Now what did I take from this tiny piece of the conversation? Well besides reinforcing the fact that J and myself are perverts, I also was pretty much stuck on this concept of “Areola Nirvana” all day.
Yes, it gave me an excuse to think about boobs all day. But I do that anyways, so nothing really new there. It actually got me thinking about my goals and how they’ve changed in the last few years.
Once I realized I wasn’t going to play football anymore my goals shifted towards having the perfect body. Well at that time the perfect body pretty much consisted of seeing a six pack of abs staring back at me in the mirror. I hit that goal in February 2010 when I was living in Mississippi. I was also living off of Qdoba and Chik-fil-a, which makes the whole thing even weirder.
So do you think I was content and satisfied with meeting my goal and went into 100% maintenance mode for the rest of my life? Nope. Next I wanted to get back to 200+ lbs and STILL have the visible six pack because, let’s face it, having a six pack when you weigh under 185 lbs isn’t that hard.
So what exactly do the perfect set of tits and having a “perfect body” have in common? Easy…you’ll never see them. Ever.
Once you think you’ve seen perfection you’ll be smitten for a few days. Maybe even a few weeks. But the kicker is that eventually you’ll want something better. The grass is always greener on the other side and the vulva is always smoother on a different chick.
Living a life being content with everything fucking sucks. I did it for pretty much the entire time I was in college. Being content with what I had and just checking off the days until graduation when I’d get a “real” job and everything would be honky-dory because that’s the way America works right?
I say fuck that. If you haven’t already realized that the days off getting a cush-job handed to you with your bullshit degree are over you are way behind the curve.
In order to make anything of yourself these days you need to make it happen yourself. You need to stop being content with every single fucking aspect of your life. You need to set goals, realizing that it doesn’t end there. Realize once you hit that goal you will need to hit bigger goals.
And this is the way it should be. This country has already given the whole aspect of “survival of the fittest” the finger. Now you just have to take it upon yourself to create the “you” that you want.