Dani Mathers, Playboy Playmate of the year 2105, is easily the biggest bitch and ugliest woman on the Internet thanks to her body shaming shenanigans. Nothing like being beautiful and a mean girl. That’s original. Want to kick some puppies and pick on kids in wheelchairs next, Dani Mathers? To add insult to injury, she backtracked her bad behavior with a half-assed apology saying that she shouldn’t have taken the photo of the naked woman and posted it and she’s better than that; it was supposed to be a private chat. Either way lady, you are the worst. Your half-assed apology only proves one thing, that you are sorry that you got caught. Period. If you were really sorry that you body shamed some poor unsuspecting woman trying to get healthy, you wouldn’t have taken the picture and posted it in the first place.
As I stood there, in my nothingness, my stomach began to hurt. Looking down, I saw nothing. No hips. No hair. Just breast buds. What does that even mean? It’s like they weren’t even trying and hair on my legs. The hair my father refused to let me shave. I stood there trembling, assessing the situation and realized that while over the summer I had a massive growth spurt, it was in all the wrong places. I was tall and gangly with just a hint of a child’s body, a whisper of a woman’s and nothingness surrounded by beautiful, in full swing pubescent girls. F*CK! Now, I have to get naked and walk into the showers with all their glory and all of my nothing.
I’d been avoiding this for as long as I could. You can only have so many periods and illnesses before the gym teacher demands that you see a specialist. So, I took a deep breath and took the longest walk ever into the public showers in the gym locker room at Middle school. It was my first walk of shame, if you will. I kept expecting the locker room scene from Carrie to take place, only I had no period and was definitely waiting with baited breath for it to happen.
Girls don’t stare at one another per se but at that age, you definitely look, if for nothing else to see how you “measure up” and believe me you, I wasn’t measuring at all. It was the same year that my dad would tell me that I needed to “run more” and not coincidentally, the year I developed my first eating disorder. I felt my body being judged and shamed from that moment on and I hated it.
As I got older and as things did begin to fill in, I expected it to get better because I’d look like the other girls but it never did. In fact, I never seemed to be in sync with everyone else’s body. I swear I was still able to wear camis until I was 15 because I had no breasts to speak of. I felt disfigured. Obviously, I was a late bloomer because, if you know me, a size D is definitely not nothing. It is definitely something in the world of breasts but with that came an entirely new set of problems.
Like many women, I’ve never been completely comfortable in my own skin. I’ve always found myself hunching, sucking in, pulling at and pushing out different parts of my body and still, never felt good enough to be stared at or called beautiful. I think many women can relate to this. The way we look is our Achilles heel. It’s the one thing that we, women, feel very personal about and one that we have very little control over.
Sure, we can work out and starve ourselves. We can dress in the nicest clothes and the best make-up. We can get all the blow outs we can afford, and maybe even more than we should, but we can’t fight genetics. Our body puts us in a position of vulnerability that we don’t often experience. It also makes us feel the most judged, as women. We know we do it, whether it’s intentional or not, and we know everyone does it. We all measure our bodies against others. We score ourselves in comparison to some unrealistic, unattainable idea of what a woman is supposed to look like; based on what we think men want.
I used to blame men for their expectations but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized I don’t dress for men. I dress for women. Men are so much less critical of women’s bodies than women. We judge other women harshly, and we judge ourselves even more harshly.
I’ve always felt trepidation about being naked in front of other people, especially women. Since that very first group shower in middle school, I became painfully aware that we were all being judged and judging. Measuring who we were against other women. It might not be nice or politically correct, but it is what it is and it is. However, the problem comes when we make the choice to share those inner criticisms or think we have the right to openly evaluate another woman’s body especially behind her back and to other people. In fact, keep that shit to yourself.
The woman had no idea. The locker room is supposed to be a safe zone. But it gets even worse.
She not only snapped the unsuspecting woman’s naked pictures, she shared them to SnapChat with the caption; “If I can’t unsee this then neither can you!” Right next to that, a picture of Dani Mathers covering her mouth in laughter or disgust, I’m not sure which. What a witch! All of our insecurities and fears as naked women, come to fruition in one mean girl tweet! Isn’t enough that we have to fight men for every crumb of equality and respect we can get, do we really need to battle the mean girls too?
I hope the woman in question sues Ms. Mathers and gets her banned from locker rooms everywhere. Mathers is the worst kind of woman, the kind who knocks other women down to feel better about herself. Thankfully, Dani Mathers has lost her job and will be banned forever from LA Fitness locker rooms everywhere. Hopefully, that will put an end to her reign as top dog mean girl.
Isn’t it enough that she’s Playmate of the Year, which one would expect implies a degree of expectation of beauty does she have to belittle and body shame all the regular women? Lucky for her being a Playmate of the year isn’t based on intelligence or the kind of person that you are on the inside because Ms. Mathers you are a hideous monster among a world full of assholes. You may have been crowned their new queen and rightfully so.