Last semester my roommate got a Fredericks of Hollywood catalog in the mail. Giddy, he started to cut out the pages and put them on the wall. Since we shared the room, it was my duty to either protest this or join in the fun. Being a warm blooded male I got out the scissors, and after a flurry of activity, the wall by the windows filled with 98 pictures of scantily dressed women.
My roomy was proud and immediately invited down a girl from upstairs who had scantily clad men on her walls. She expressed absolutely no interest in making the trip, and to this day looks down at our messy floor to avert her eyes from our wall. When it was first established, the Hollywood wall drew many comments, mostly from the girls. “Wow,” followed by leaving the room was in the same crowd as “Hey, I have that!”
I draw no particular pleasure from the sight of these lingerie models anymore. They have stopped being fun to look at, and have reached the point of being an eyesore. The only images that still catch my gaze are the ones that are closest to fully clothed. I doubt I could ever get tired of looking at gorgeous women, but there is definitely something to be said for leaving things to the imagination.
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