Disembodied Things

One of the many reasons I like Shakesville is that they pick up on things that I miss because they’re so ordinary. Of course, seeing women represented as only parts of bodies shouldn’t be normal. Unfortunately, it is.

Every so often, I get J in on the act, sending him links, discussing things with him and usually ending the conversation with an argument about films, which started when I first talked about the Bechdell-Wallace test, many months ago, and which shows no signs of ending.

So, when we were in a kitchen-things shop yesterday (good potato peelers being irritatingly difficult to find), it was him and not me that noticed a Disembodied Thing.

I can’t find a picture of the ones that we saw, but this will give the gist of it:


Charming, isn’t it?

Well, the ones we saw weren’t even clothed.

There three of them: all disconcertingly thin, all white, all nude. The only part missing, and by implication inside the bottle, was the head. One of them was a mermaid, so while her crotch was still defined, it was fish-scaled and green, but the other two had very obvious black pubic hair, and all three had large, prominent breasts and dark pink nipples. It was, if you like, a Snow White of nudity. A silent Snow White.

I think perhaps I shall go back to that shop, when I’m next in the City Centre. And when I go back, I shall ask them why they stock those things.



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