Some websites reject traditional views of women by satirizing them. One of the posters painted by the feminist art collective Guerrilla Girls satirizes the nude odalisque Berger saw as a prototypical "sight" in Western art. The Guerrilla Girls' reclining nude wears their signature gorilla mask and the accompanying text explains why they feel guerrilla action is necessary:

Do women have to be naked to get into the Met[ropolitan] Museum [of Art]? Less than 5% of the artists in the Modern Art Sections are women, but 85% of the nudes are female.

The Brazen Hussies on the site of that name mimic the bombshell stereotype--woman as sexual object--by pursing their lips in a mock smoochy kiss for the camera, a gesture that complements their motto: "Classy, in a tasteless, classless sort of way." Dinner Roll Barbie is one of many websites that make fun of thinness as a standard of female beauty. One of its Barbies, a plump doll in a tee shirt that reads "EAT," is meant "to show girls that voluptuousness is also beautiful." The doll comes with a "miniature basket of dinner rolls, Bucket o' Fried Chicken, tiny Entenmann's walnut ring, a brick of Sealtest ice cream, three packs of potato chips, a t-shirt reading 'Only the Weak Don't Eat,' and, of course, an appetite."

gURL spoofs the beauty makeovers in women's magazines by doing its own "virtual makeovers." Whereas the conventional makeover is an attempt to dress and make up ordinary women to resemble the models in the fashion magazines, gURL's "virtual makeovers" are largely transformations in identity. One young woman with an unmade up girl next door appearance is changed into a trendy waitress with eggplant colored hair and a pierced nose. Another loses her "Calvin Klein-ish naive quality" to become a "vampy Marilyn clone." The before and after shots of the "victims" are framed in cameos like those that framed pictures of women's faces decades ago, as in an advertisement for Ruvia deodorant from a 1916 issue of Vanity Fair. The virtual makeover spoofs an ideal of demure female beauty that has been popular for centuries.

Some websites satirize the way conventional depictions of women atomize their bodies by showing only one body part--legs or lips, for example--rather than the whole person. When a woman's appearance is judged, each body part is given its own value, independent of the rest of her body. Women internalize this practice, learning to think of their bodies in segments, able to inventory and assess each feature separately from the whole--skin is smooth, arms flabby, eyes too small, hips too wide. This attitude is reflected in the Glamour magazine survey. One of the questions, "what do you like best/least about yourself?" all but invited readers to itemize their physical features; at least, the 27,000 respondents interpreted the question that way. What they liked best and least about their bodies was a specific body part: 70% liked their breasts; 60% were dissatisfied with their hips; 72% were unhappy about their thighs; 28% were "ashamed" of their stomachs (Fraser 283).

The sites turn this tendency on its head: when they isolate portions of a woman's body, they use the isolated body part to convey power and defiance. The kicking leg that accompanies each page of the "unabashedly feminist" zine Blue Stocking describes a lack of patience for fools, not sexual availability. This feisty leg, wearing a heavy boot and thick socks, is the visual equivalent of Blue Stocking's opinionated essays on controversies such as toxic pollution and abortion. On The Nerve!, we see another isolated body part, the bare buttocks of a woman about to slide down a pole (actually an arrow leading to the site's title), which illustrate the slogan "Get the Nerve to go feet-first into the future." This playful image suits The Nerve!'s jaunty approach to issues such as gender conflict online ("Modem Grrls get rough and tough in electric boyland") and pornography for women ("women whip up their own smut"). As with the leg on Blue Stocking, the buttocks are less seductive than defiant: the viewer is being mooned.

Similarly, the grid of 12 naked buttocks on FAT!SO? flaunts the website's goal, to promote the acceptance of fatness: the site is "for people who don't apologize for their size." The image defies typical depictions of women's buttocks by showing a range of shapes and sizes, many of which are not conventionally considered beautiful. Furthermore, it satirizes popular depictions of women that focus on this body part by absurdly framing each set of buttocks in its own square and by inviting visitors to acquire their very own copy of this image--a butt poster is for sale on the site, "a breathtaking piece of art...suitable for framing."

Less overtly defiant than FAT!SO?'s buttocks are the disembodied mouths on Fabulous Net Women, a site that provides links to online resources of special interest to women. While the mouths have a practical function as the links to other pages, they also parody the way billboards and other media direct the viewer's gaze to this part of a woman's face. The Fabulous Net Women mouths look like those in popular media: the lips are bright red, pouty, voluptuous, and slightly parted, revealing a few perfect white teeth. But they float on the webpage on their own; they're not attached to a face. Thus, whereas other media downplay the rest of the face, Fabulous Net Women satirically goes one step further; it erases the face, leaving the lips ridiculously disembodied. By exaggerating the way visual media atomize the female body, the site parodies this practice.

The sites also take an ironic stance towards fashion, particularly in the way women's clothing has constrained women or been used to draw attention to their sexuality. b.r.i.l.l.o. makes fun of the "bullet bra," the uncomfortable pointy bra women wore in the 1950's. By clicking on a bullet, the reader can find an advertisement from that period in which models, in their stiff bras and girdles, preen and dance ecstatically. Net Chick's Magic 8 Bra spoofs the traditional power of women's underwear to attract men--this talking bra does not seduce; it predicts:

Hello. I'm a Magic 8 Bra. I am wise and will tell you how to achieve your dream. Concentrate on your wish, then close the cups. CAUTION: Believe in the bra, and it will be your friend. If you scoff, the cups will know, and will not like you. Bad bra karma is not a good thing.

The Nerve!'s Marcia Clark paper doll satirizes the notion of using clothing for professional advancement. Under the banner, "Help Marcia Clark dress for success!" are three "image maker[s]" that will enable an attorney to manipulate a jury: a man-styled pant suit and a wig in which Clark can "blend in with the boys," suppress her sexuality ("feeling 'frigid'?"), and divert attention from her physical attractiveness ("kiss those talk-show hair critiques good-bye!"); a frumpy schoolmarm dress to intimidate the jury ("reduce the jury to drooling preschoolers ... O.J. is guilty or you all get detention!"); and a coquettish miniskirt/bra-top ensemble ("why short change 'feminine wiles?' Cosmo says go for it!"). "Beware the scales of fashion," the site cautions. The message is that for a female attorney, "justice is not blind."

Throughout the sites, content, image and language work together to satirize the fashion industry. Amazon City tries and convicts fashion "crimes," such as stiletto heels, which are guilty on three counts: they're uncomfortable, dangerous to walk in, and bad for the feet; they assume that women want to look like strippers; and they propagate the idea that women need "girlish weapons...to subdue stupid men." The punishment: "ignore the fashion industry and wear whatever you want...!" Other sites tease us by publishing articles whose titles play on the association of woman's clothing with her sexuality. The Nerve!'s article "UnderWire(d)" (an allusion to the underwire bra) is not about sex or underwear, but sexism in electronic communities. Equity's article "Dressing for the Tax Man" explains how female firefighters, actors, physicians, and other workers can use job-related clothing expenses as a tax deduction. The women interviewed in the article are hardworking and financially savvy, but the title suggests a more stereotyped view: a woman who seduces her way out of a dilemma (in this case a tax audit). Both titles satirize conventional views of women's clothing as ornamental and sexually inviting.