One interesting evening with the First Thursdays I was asked what I had been using on my eyes. ‘Huh?’, I asked (profoundly, I might add. I can be that way). “Um, what do you mean on my eyes?”. To clarify, they wanted to know what I was using on my eyes because they were not that wrinkled.
Here’s the thing. I do happen to have wonderful genes. Both grandmothers had amazing skin. So I am blessed. That aside, I subscribe to the theory that as Catherine Deneuve once said (and I paraphrase) 10 lbs on your ass does wonders for your face at a certain age.
Or in my words, “F the Botox. Eat a big sandwich”.
Let’s face it my friends, being extremely thin after, let’s say fortyblahblahblah, gives ones face a gaunt look. The little bit of extra weight is like natural Botox if you will. It fills you out, and stretches those wrinkles away.
Hey, I am all for anything that makes you feel better about yourself. And I am not going to preach about not having plastic surgery, because if that rings your bell and makes you feel good, go for it.
But what scares me is the obsessive race for perfection. Two consecutive weeks the NYT ran articles as absurd as the Emporer’s new nail polish.
First one from June 23rd was in the Suburban Trends section, called Promoting Plastic Surgery Party Style (oy). Here is a quote if I ever read one:
“The event attracted about 200 people, mostly women, paying $20 apiece; it cost about $12,000. Dr. Greenberg described it as “like a bar mitzvah.” It had an open bar, a disc jockey and performers on stilts during cocktail hour. The dinner buffet included carving, pasta and dim sum stations.
Hey ladies, lay off the friggin dim sum and pasta and you can avoid the lipo altogether! And of course the Bar Mitzvah comment was heartwarming. Now performers on stilts are considered commonplace when celebrating your child reading from the Torah?!
July 3rd Sunday Times Style section had this article about – no this can’t be true– and a woman doc no less… vaginal cosmetic surgery! Just when we were starting to worry about our crow’s feet and sagging whatevers, some lunatic has now come along to tell us that we need to consider a little nip and tuck in, as my husband fondly says, the hey–nanny-nanny. This must fall under the category of WAY too much time and money on your hands. Here is the most hysterical post from blogher on that article.
The race to beat aging is a losing battle. I’m not saying let yourself go, but hey a nice big sandwich once in awhile can’t be a bad thing. Sure beats shooting poison into your face!