My body was designed for Men

I’m a reformed feminist and this is the life-changing realisation I’ve had, through my daddy, ofcourse. I’m too big of a bimbo to figure it out myself

My hair is thick and wavy, it grows quickly. Almost too quickly. As though it wants to be grabbed, pulled on and used to control me.
My eyes are drawn to movement, particularly from men. They look for signals, signs and body language almost constantly. As though they need to immediately adapt or comply to the actions of others.
My lips are fuller than men’s are. Designed to entice and cushion a blow. As though they know they need to be able to take a pounding.
My throat seems to constrict uncomfortably if I try to swallow a bite of food too large or take a large pill, but it naturally tries to relax and accommodate a penis. As though it was designed to see cock as more nourishing than food or medicine.
My tits are definitely not made for me. They get in the way, hurt when I try to run, sit awkwardly under clothes and have to be controlled by often uncomfortable bras. They are made for nourishing offspring and giving pleasure to men who have less awkward access to them.
My hips are made for men. They bear their children and naturally sway and roll when I walk. They give me an hour glass figure and show how small my waist is, the slimmer I am the more my hips serve to enhance my tits and ass. As though they want to reinforce the idea those are the aspects to focus on.
My cunt is made for men. It lubricates to accommodate them, it squeezes itself around them, it drips in response to them. Men can get pleasure from my whole cunt whereas I can only get pleasure from one tiny bundle of nerve endings. Sure there’s the g spot but that isn’t really in a convenient place. If my cunt has too many orgasms it hurts, if my clit has too much or too little pressure it won’t bring relief. By design my cunt must want men to be sadistic with me – otherwise it would give me pleasure more easily and readily than it does men.
My legs are made for men. Whenever I’m aroused or men show their dominance my knees get weak and my legs want to bend. They know I’m meant to kneel. They know men are superior.
So of course I dress for men. I dress for the pleasure of men.
Because I respect my body enough to respect and understand it’s nature. If that’s not the real definition of so called “body positivity” I don’t get it.

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