#objetification

That's why it can be called...

- Pig/ piggy

- Toy

- Fucktoy

- fleshlight

- cum bucket

- Cum Slut

- plaything

- Toilet

- Servant

- set of holes

- Thing

- puppy

- Kitten

- Cow

- Pet

- doll

- cunt / dick

- Maid

- Object

- ....

i once went to rome in vacation and i was to go to visit the churches (im not even religious, i just wanted to see the architecture and designs that is all) in the vatican but still they pretty much objectify and sexualize women’s bodies that you CANNOT LITERALLY GO IN WITH SHORTS OR SKIRTS OR DRESSES AND WITH YOUR SHOULDERS BARE. 

so i was basically in the line for hours, in an unbearable heat only to be denied entrance. and then as i was going to sit under a shade i said 

‘ I WOULD LAUGH AS HECK IF NOW IT RAINED HARD AND THEY HAD TO CLOSE IT !

and it did. i heard a lightning bolt and damn jesus heard me and rain came. to shame on those sexists and mysogynistic bastards.

(ESP) Pincha en la imagen para ver el vídeo

Es fresco. HECHO A MEDIDA. ¡Uuuuh! Bellísimo envase! Brilla! Fresco moschino. ¡CHORREA! Frescura hecha a medida, darling. Me encanta moschino. ¡Fresco!

(Chorrearse: jerga para la eyaculación femenina)

Anuncio de un perfume de Moschino, marca italiana de lujo, 2016.

¡Enviado por una activa Radiactiva! Gracias

(ENG) Click image to watch video

It’s fresh. COUTURE. Uuuh! Pretty bottle! Amazing. It sparkles! Fresh moschino. SQUIRT! Fresh couture, darling. I love moschino. Fresh!

(Couture: the design and manufacture of fashionable clothes to a client's specific requirements and measurements. Squirt: in slang, when a girl literally shoots out her vaginal fluid from her vagina as she climaxes)

Moschino, Italian luxury fashion house, perfum’s advertisement, 2016

The first time I got catcalled I was about 11. Me and my cousin, who was 12, were walking down the street. A car full of men passed by. They honked. And, although 17 year-old Paula knows a bunch of 30 year-old men honking at two girls is not only disgusting but scary, 11 year-old Paula liked it. She liked it. She liked it because she was at that point in life when she just wanted to grow up, grow up so fast. Because she thought that that was what made a woman. Because that’s what she had been taught. Because she was starting to feel insecure about her body. And she t​hought​ that meant to be​ ​beautiful, to be sexy, to be appreciated.

The second time I remember being catcalled I was 13. It was a sunny day. I was so happy. I was just walking to a friends house. We were going to make a project for school. I was bringing my brand new laptop. I felt so good. And then a small truck passed by. And slowed down when it reached me. And the man driving started shouting things at me. I don’t even remember what he said. 13 year-old Paula didn’t know why but she felt awful all of a sudden. She felt the urge to lower her head and walk faster. She felt so bad, the smile ​scaping​ from her mouth. S​he didn’t know what was it, but she was felt upset, almost guilty as if she had done something wrong. 17 year-old Paula knows what it was. 13 year-old Paula was feeling objectified for the first time. ​ ​​  

The last time I got catcalled was yesterday night. I was walking down the street, coming back home from a party with some friends. An old man with almost no hair in his head was standing in front of a bar. And I could see it coming. I could see it in his eyes. I could see the worlds about to come out of his mouth. And then I passed by, and he said it: “What a delicious little butt” He sounded proud. And I just walked by. I always think of come backs. But whats the point? The scary thing is I’m already used to it. The scary thing is all my friends have similar stories. In the mall. In the street. At the beach. In the grocery store. And they are all used to it. And we shouldn’t be. 

But I’m not writing this for myself. I already know those words don’t define me. Those words don’t measure my worth.

I’m writing this for 11 year old Paula. I’m writing this for my 13 year old sister and all her little friends.

And I’m writing this for the boys. So they grow up to be better men. Men who don’t degrade women this way. Men who have a little bit more of self respect, who know themselves to be better than that. Better than shouting, whispering, whistling, honking at strangers down the street.