see that when I say that everything seems to go well, then at the end there is always something that escapes you? I mean, you read that the Miss Italy contest open to size 44? Here is the news .
Wow, I say. A coup against the whole of anorexia is fashionable che ha falciato un'intera generazione di modelle (e ha fatto sentire inadeguata la restante popolazione femminile). Ma non basta. Negli anni il concorso ha aperto anche a donne sposate e con figli, e da questa edizione saranno bandite le minorenni. Leggo con vivo interesse le parole dell'organizzatrice, Patrizia Mirigliani, che ci conforta dicendo: "Oggi più che mai si impone il tipo di donna burrosa, completa, intelligente e autonoma, consapevole dei momenti duri della vita che ci aspettano". Mi piace. "Donna burrosa" mi fa simpatia. Magari anche con un po' di pan grattato sopra. L'articolo ci ricorda che lo storico patron di Miss Italia, diceva sempre: "Chi vince il concorso non deve essere un monstrum di bellezza, una silhouette irraggiungibile, a ghost or even erotic aesthetic. If anything should look like the girl next door, a real woman, she certainly attractive and desirable, but delivered a healthy sense of normality and everyday life. "And here I wake from my irrational optimism and I think this ideal woman, attractive and desirable that could be your neighbor. Like, if you run out of eggs, knock on his door and you find the front. Beautiful, with its fleece robe and slippers shaped like a bunny. And then what do you do? Well, we have a whole literature of the porn that we recommend it. Moreover, this neighbor who has just won Miss Italy who will do in life? The university researcher? No, because otherwise it would be abroad. Will continue to do your neighbor across? I think not. This girl simply and without shackles on my mind, enter the contest in order not to be your neighbor. To sign a contract with the Rai and assist the host of Domenica In O Rocchetta water run a few commercials. Or take part in some drama on the life of the Capuchin friars. After you buy an apartment in downtown Milan or Rome and I salute you. You'll get new neighbors, a family of Chinese Cooking tofu from morning to evening, and finally you will always remember to buy eggs. Here is the story of Miss Italy. This is the meaning of the event: find the next chick that "sells". A television program, a detergent, a machine. Indifferent. The statements of Mirigliani father and daughter are full of ethics, values \u200b\u200band good feelings, but in the end the contest remains the one that was for centuries: a parade of young women (as the opening to the forties?) Dreaming a life very different from the one they had before. The famous "woman buttery, comprehensive, intelligent and autonomous," just because it is "aware of the hard moments of life that lie ahead", he chooses to take another route. Of course it all the Miss Italy in the fifties to today, there have been some who have worked hard, who are committed and they had a real talent to stay in show business and build a career. I think of Sophia Loren, for example, which had not won. All other numbers, however, did, helping to fill the industry image that haunts us today with the usual messages of asses-tits from which we can not just come out. Laudable initiatives of the competition. Bravi. Now, perhaps, on billboards to sell an air conditioner or a herbicide will always find a naked woman. But buttery.
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