Buns, Boobs & Botox
Many years ago, someone much smarter than me said, “You love a person for their flaws, not their attributes.” Given that, I figure that I have a lot to offer someone who wants to love me. And for that reason I really don’t get this modern-day obsession with having a perfect body. Everybody is “having some work done” and TV shows like Extreme Makeover are creating a frenzy that is driving women by the thousands to the local body shops.
As a kid, I just didn’t get this fake stuff. I remember being shocked reading an ad in a magazine for women’s panties and men’s briefs that were padded in the seat to enhance how you looked from behind. I couldn’t believe anyone would spend money to make their butt look bigger. My mom and all my aunts were always complaining that theirs were too big. Back then all the girls in school wore padded bras. I didn’t get that either. Whenever I copped a feel, I knew right away that it was false advertising. And when the word would get around school, the girls would be mortified.
My first exposure to breast augmentation was about 20 years ago, when my niece, who worked for me as an art director, decided she needed larger breasts. For my money, she had all the equipment necessary to attract any male with better than 20/200 vision. She was very pretty, tall, and had a nice shape. But she wanted to graduate from grapes to grapefruit, lest Mr. Right pass right by. So she had a consultation and made her appointment with destiny. Of course, she first had to have an appointment with the loan officer at the bank, because this procedure would set her back several months pay. The plastic surgery center offered all kinds of incentives, like a gift certificate for a C-cup bra, but they didn’t offer an easy pay plan. When she came to work the next day, showing off her “new boobs” I had to ask her if the bank had a lien on her breasts, and how would they collect, if she defaulted.
I guess the investment paid off. Shortly after she had the procedure, she moved to California, where she could stack up to the competition, where everybody out in Hollywood has implants of some kind. And there she found her dream hunk. I never asked him, but I’ll bet he would have fallen in love and married her anyway. But she told me that the extra equipment gave her the self-confidence she needed to snag this great catch.
The other thing that troubles me is all this face work that women are getting done. A friend of ours went on vacation, and when she came back she asked me, “Do I look any different?” That’s always a dangerous question for me to answer, and I cringed, hoping I would guess right. So I tentatively commented, “Yes. I like your new hair style.” To which, she responded, “I just went through five friggin’ thousand dollars on my face, and you like my hair!” You need to understand that the whole time she’s shouting these expletives, her facial expression did not change. That’s when it hit me that there were no longer any wrinkles, creases, dimples or dents in her face, and her skin was so taut, it didn’t move when she spoke. To make matters worse, I couldn’t tell if she was smiling or snarling. It was truly unnerving.
And this plastic body syndrome is no better with guys. They’re taking steroids, getting hair plugs, having silicone implants inserted in their biceps, and elsewhere, and having unwanted fat vacuumed out of their beer bellies. And the women that they are trying to impress are sitting around making fun of them. So what’s the point?
With all the migration back to natural foods and natural fabrics, when are we going back to natural bodies? I expect this will happen as soon as I invest in a case lot of Grecian Formula to start coloring what little hair I have left.