glamour grammy

Oh, yeah, so the other day while I was getting my pedi, I was perusing this magazine I'd never seen or heard of before. I couldn't even begin to tell you its name. No idea. But it was a big, thick tome, like "the September Issue". You could chuck it at an intruder and they'd get hurt, is what I'm saying. And it was organized into sections, like skin, hair, teeth, etc. Each one of those sections would tell you what's wrong with you and what product you should buy or what procedure you should get to fix it. Now, frankly, that's not much different than any other magazine aimed at chicks. It was just a little bit more blatant, which I guess is refreshing.

But the last section, and perhaps the thickest, was all about plastic surgery. There was this feature wherein they showed a before and an after, and it'd say something like "Emily, age 53, before looks 61, after looks 48." Which was hilarious all on its own, because why 48, not 47 or 49? They were totally just pulling numbers out of their asses. So that was, as I say, amusing, no matter how much of a pro- or anti- facelift or botox kind of person you are. But then I came to the woman who was 77, looked 87 before and 70 after.

The mind boggles. Really, isn't there any point at which we are allowed to just give up? Am I, as a woman, supposed to fret about looking pretty, and not just pretty but young, until the day I croak? I.don't.think.so. When I am 77, I'm going to be really happy with myself if I am just alive and still walking and able to remember my name, thanks. And I'm sure that by the time I'm 77, my doctors will probably be wanting to do enough various necessary surgeries on me that I won't need to have any elective procedures to play chicken with the anesthesia death.

Just say no.

Besides which, I saw this episode of Rachael Ray (her talk show, not her cooking show, obs) recently in which they showed how just tweezing your eyebrows correctly makes it look like you've had an eye job. It was remarkable. Also, hair in your face=good. (If Carla had just kept the bangs, she coulda skipped the botox entirely, yo.) Magazines don't want to tell you these things, 'cause how can you sell product that way? But Rachael just wants to sell me cookbooks and overpriced pots and pans. Anyway, there are work-arounds that'll do you just fine till you do reach the age where you can confidently say, I just don't give a fuck anymore.

If someone wanted to buy me a booblift, though, I probably wouldn't say no. Ha!

xoxo

P.S. Blogger spellcheck wanted to turn tweezing into tweeting, which is just sad.