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Get your Pure Insanity Journals out everyone, because it’s time to make another entry!For all those new to this activity, this is where we jot down the latest story that provides concrete proof that we’re all going completely mad. I’m kind of hoping that there won’t be enough stories to fill the pages of our journals, but at the rate we’re going with high heeled babies, and women opting out of what it is to be a woman, I don’t think we’ll even need to fill the journals to make the diagnosis stick.
Today’s topic just may be the clincher. I’ll summarize with one sentence: Perfection-obsessed women take their self-loathing out on their vaginas by turning genital mutilation into a sport that society now calls “Vagina Reconstruction.”
Have you heard of this, ladies? This is the latest and “greatest” in cosmetic procedures that our esteemed medical community is pushing on society, with promises to “correct” and “perfect” the vulva of any woman naive or insecure enough to pay for it. If it weren’t for the fact that women are lining up in droves for these surgeries, I would think that “Vag Repair Services” as a business model was a joke conceived by a high school business economics class filled with sixteen year old boys who were still waiting to see one for the first time.
I saw the Benjamin Button movie the other day and it got me thinking about the inevitability of aging. But then I got to thinking about the extent to which some of the visible signs of aging are preventable. Well, maybe not completely, but the process of aging can be slowed or delayed, at least.
Obviously, exercise, eating right, getting enough sleep, and reducing stress all help in the process, but there is another important factor that can play a key role in keeping you from being a Benjamin Button - a young person looking older than she is- and that is toxin elimination.
Health Benefits Of Antioxidants A Big *f.a.t. Fantasy?
In my article Four Antioxidant Wonder Foods, I talked about four fruits with anti-aging effects. Leave it to my friends over at CrankyFitness.com to burst my unrealistic, wrinkle-free forever, bubble! They’ve uncovered a little more news about anti-oxidants and their inability to work miracles.
Now I know why they call themselves Cranky Fitness - they’ve given up on the fantasy that I inhabit, and are living in reality. Hell, reality will make anyone cranky! I think I’ll stay put right where I’m at: a pretty, pink, feminine world where sexy, fun, and fitness collide into a place where “fat” is a happy word meaning Fit After Thirty! But occasionally, for the sake of relating great information to my lovely, *f.a.t. sisters, I’ll step over to the dark side - into the world of Crabby McSlacker - to bring you funny, and informative articles like this one.
Years ago, before Photoshopping was mainstream, I was friends with a guy who worked at a company that did the digital photo re-touching for many of the major fashion magazines. In his position, he handled all the photos of top models and actresses that we see every day in print media. The models in the photos were beautiful to begin with, but even more so after hair, makeup, and lighting effects were applied.
When my friend received the photos from his clients, it was his job to make the women even more beautiful with the magic of computer technology. In fact, it was his job to make them perfect. Perfect in the eyes of his clients - the ad agencies and magazine publishers.
He called it “impossibly perfect”, because he said what his clients asked for was a distortion from actual reality that even the most highly paid photographers, make up artists and models in the world, couldn’t achieve.
“Impossibly perfect”, in fact, could only be attained with computer software. My friend recounted stories of “enhancing” the photos of well known names and recognizable faces to the point that he felt they looked more like fake barbie dolls than real women.
The other day I was working in Santa Monica, otherwise known as the Land Of The Beautiful People Who All Look The Same, and I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode - no, not the one where the hot chick is being operated on by the mutant people so she’ll fit their standard of beauty. The one where everyone swallowed a magic pill causing them to morph into exact replicas of each other in size, shape, and facial features. What do you mean that wasn’t a real Twilight Zone episode? Well, okay. But it should have been, because it’s freaky enough to be fiction.
Sadly though, it is reality. The plastic surgery epidemic is a perfect example of a good idea gone horribly awry. Giving people the option to look younger and feel better about themselves is a good thing. But when that evolved into giving people the option to look like a younger version of their favorite celebrity, whom they never looked like to begin with, even on a good day, is when we gave up our seat on the sanity train for a ride on the cuckoo rollercoaster from hell at the county fair. The one with the rickety tracks operated by a carnie from Kentucky named Jeb who is in the throes of a bad acid trip while on his shift.
I will never forget the “bush” story that my coworker, Mike, told me fourteen years ago.He was about 28 and was married to a cute blonde named Melanie who was his age. At a previous job, he had worked with a 55 year old southern woman, Evelyn, who was concerned after seeing a female swimsuit calendar on another guy’s desk. She discreetly came into Mike’s office and shut the door. Imitating what I now think of as a Paula Deen-like accent, (from The Food Network) Mike relayed his conversation with his co-worker.
“Mike, does Melanie have a big patch or a little patch?”
“She’s not a pirate, Evelyn.” He told her.
“No, not that kind of patch.” She said. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper and continued. “The patch of grass down there.” She said, as she pointed to her lap.
Remember the Seinfeld episode about “shrinkage” where George worries about whether women know that a man’s anatomy reacts like a “frightened turtle” after he’s been in cold water, because a woman saw him naked right after he went swimming? “I was in the pool!” He shouted.
A few years ago, I discovered the female equivalent to that scenario. A friend set me up on a blind date with a good friend of her husband’s. Because he was a trusted friend of theirs I did not mind him picking me up at my apartment. Gotta love chivalry! He arrived smelling very good and looking even better. He was slightly early, so I still had two loads of clean laundry in a basket on my couch that I had not had time to put away. I invited him in and quickly ran to the other room for my sweater.
As I was headed back down the hall, my eye caught the laundry basket long enough for me to notice a horrific site. I had left my “FrumpSista” panties, as I call them, in plain sight, prominently exposed on top of the heap of clean laundry!
You know the panties I’m talking about, right? Not quite as bad as granny panties, but almost. The pair that you bought in a three for five bucks package from the TJ Maxx close out bin, that you only wear during your period when you have to wear a pad and need the wide crotch to wrap the wings around? That pair. The most boring, lace free, unfeminine pair of panties ever known to womankind. The panties with the “frills kills” attitude that all other lacy briefs and sexy thongs refuse to associate with in the underwear drawer. The pair that never saw the inside of a Victoria’s Secret store even in their infancy; and in their wildest dreams, aren’t even a distant third cousin of Victoria.
The other day a friend commented on the dorky looking glasses women wear while working out, and suggested we write a piece on some of the feminine looking eyewear options available. I got stuck on the dorky part.
“What do you mean by dorky?” I asked.
“You know”, she said. “Those big goofy athletic and masculine looking ones with the weird lenses.”
I gave her a blank look, so she continued with the optical descriptions and observations.
The more she talked, the more it sounded like she was getting dangerously close to describing my favorite BluBlocker infomercial-bought shades from 1990.
“Are you still married to those things?” She asked.
“No, but we are seriously dating, and practically engaged.” I responded.
“You should break up.” She said without missing a beat.
“They block the blue rays!” I answered defensively.
“Well, you know what else they block? They block the man rays. You are much too cute and much too single to be wearing those in public.” She scolded.
“Well sometimes I mix it up with my other ones when I play beach volleyball.” I explained.
“You mean those Cory Hart-tribute shades you go around in?”
“My black Ray Bans?” I asked. “No, I only wear those at night.” I winked. She got the joke.
I thought I had heard it all when I learned that leeches can be used in a hospital setting to eat bacteria out of infected wounds. Well, it turns out that carp can be used in a similar way in your local salon. The little fishies seem to like eating human dead skin, and are being incorporated into the pedicure experience.
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