I get it. I've spent a fair amount of time trying to convince teary eyed girlfriends that their asses didn't look fat in their jeans, when all I really wanted to do was tell them to "Put the fucking jeans on, and let's go already!" As I listened to my friends speak, I wondered if women ever feel the same way. Isn't it in their natures, after all, to nurture? Wouldn't a woman lovingly tell a boyfriend or husband that his ass looked perfect in his Levis without the slightest hint of anger or resentment?
But I suppose no one really likes to be a cheerleader - a fact that hit home this past weekend as I worked on a freelance writing gig at the NBA All-Star game in Dallas. I watched the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders sitting on the side of the court waiting to rehearse, and they could not have looked more bored and disinterested. They put on a good show when the cameras were rolling, like a man does when he's telling his weeping woman that she doesn't look like she's gained any weight, but I knew the cheerleaders' hearts weren't in it. As I watched them do their cheers, I wondered if their boyfriends were tired of convincing them that their asses looked good in their tiny short shorts.