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http://madeiradarling.tumblr.com/post/560247773/the-hypnosis-fetish-or-is-that-a-watch-in-your

It started with "In Living Color." That tv show? Had Jim Carrey on it before he got really famous? In retrospect, it was pretty lame, but I was eleven or twelve at the time, so I found it funny. What did I know. But there was one skit where the token white girl played Super Bimbo, a superheroine whose weakness was math. As thugs loomed over her, pummeling her with long division, she whipped off her camisole to reveal a bra made of two spinning cones with spirals on them. "You're getting sleepy," she purred. Her assailants were transfixed; one warned the other not to look at her bra, but it was too late. Super Bimbo rose to her feet, victorious.

And I was harder than I'd ever been before.

I was watching the show with my dad, and as soon as Super Bimbo revealed her secret weapon, I glanced over at him in embarrassment. It was as though she was fully nude — that's how plainly and obviously sexual that scene was for me. And I looked at my dad to see if he felt the same way. Or, more to the point, I wanted to see if he noticed how aroused I had become. But it was just a funny gag for him; he didn't appear to notice me. So I put a pillow in my lap and enjoyed the rest of the show.

I'd always found something alluring and dangerous about hypnosis. But this was the first time — or most powerful time, at least — that the erotic aspect of hypnosis became clear to me. Let me emphasize there wasn't anything sexual per se about this scene. Super Bimbo wore a spandex suit, sparkly tights and boots; she looked good, sure, but nothing too raunchy. (That was saved for Married with Children an hour later.) What aroused me was the hypnosis.