Tank-Top Wearing Man Candy?

Everyone is just a little bit prejudice, and one of my BIGGEST prejudices is against men who wear tank-tops. I see a man in a tank top and I run the other way. Men should not wear tank-tops, but if you must wear one, please be gay. The Gays can carry it off–sometimes–but I have yet to see a straight tank top wearing man rock the sleeveless wonders. Here is why:

• Many of the guys who wear tanks, especially to the gym, do so to show off their muscles. I understand this. I like to rock my best features, which is why the boobs are always pushed up to where God intended and my hair shiny and soft. Tis’ human to highlight and accentuate, however, when a guy highlights his arms I immediately (remember, I told you this is a prejudicial issue for me) think, “Buddy…not too smart, are you?” Can you believe how pedantic I can be about appearances? I figure a guy showing off his arms like that has to do it to make up for being a complete idiot.
• I also find the guys with the tight workout tank-top cannot get enough of looking at themselves in the mirror. They go to the gym to show off their bodies and announce how hot (which I think means “fuckable”) they are. They want hot girls to see them and want to sleep with them. If my former roommate is a good litmus test, this plan usually works for them. Now you probably are thinking, given my own confession of not being a “hot girl” previously, that I am just jealous. Two amazing bodies see each other across the room and instantly want to fuck like rabbits never happens to me. The wallflower in Nike capri’s and her Duke Divinity tee-shirt does not get the “fuck me baby right after this rep” look ever! You are right about that! Jealousy though? Not on your life. Again, if my former roommate is any indication, these guys also have more drama wrapped up in them then you can find on a Telenovela. Do not even get me started on the insecurity issues either. They pump up for more than just health for damn sure!
• I find myself staring at the guy’s arm pits. The shirt stops right there! I never swoon over the muscles bulging, but instead find myself mesmerized by the little hairs sticking out. Now, when I guy is naked (really the best way to size a man up) I embrace the underarm hair. I will even embrace it when he is naked from the waist up–most of the time. However, standing next to a guy in a tank, I find myself totally grossed out by the underarm hair. I want to scream, “Cover that shit up man!” Sometimes, a guy will look all cute and athletic until you see the little Tribbles poking out their heads.

Dear Captian Kirk Up to His Pits in Tribbles.

• On the topic of not being mesmerized by a guy’s muscles…the WORST case scenario is when there are no muscles at all to size up! I speak from experience here. My arms flail in the wind. I know not to wear tank-tops in public unless medically necessary, by which I mean I find myself in the midst of a peri-menopausal moment and coolness wins over “Cool Factor.” Flabby arms on a guy, plus one tank top, equals REDNECK. Sweaty, stinky, beer can tossing, tractor pull going, NASCAR lovin Redneck. And for the record: A wife-beater is a tank top.
• Add some zits to the above and the ick factor quadruples.
• Lastly, and most importantly, when I see a good looking guy, well-groomed, athletic, etc. in a tank I a.l.w.a.y.s. sigh and think to myself, “God bless the Gays.” In fact, I discussed this whole Tank-Top Man Hating Thing with The Boys (a totally fab gay couple and good friends of mine) and Bubbie piped up saying, “But I have a tank-top that I work out in, what would you think of me?” With that The Joker hit him over the head and howled, “She would think you are GAY!” And she would be right.

In summary, boys if you have the muscles to highlight in a tank and are gay, feel free. I still find it a bit weird–Tribble Factor and all–but who am I to judge? (HA!) If you are not gay, keep those biceps under cover and let me use my imagination. I especially like the imagination part where I run my hands up your arms…wait! I do not write that kind of blog…