Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Women vs. Men - assignment bathing suit

In December a woman's thoughts are on the joys of the holidays, buying gifts, socializing, being with family. And then January happens and you suddenly realize that it's T-minus three months and counting until Spring Break.
It doesn't help that all the "spas" in town start advertising various ways to remove hair from your body in December.
<Just note here guys, no matter what these spas say, a woman DOES NOT want a hair removal system/plan for Christmas!! I don't care if your lady herself leaves gentle or not so gentle hints about wanting this for Christmas, don't fall for it. If you do please have a nice piece of jewelry as a buffer offering.>
Now you have to think about hair removal and the inevitable bathing suit. So you begin the process of getting ready for a bathing suit. If you are one of those ladies who keeps it all together all winter you may want to quit reading. Or maybe keep reading as a warning to keep it up girl!
Playboy has done a lot for women, both positive and negative. For now I declare war on Playboy because I'm fairly certain they were the ones who declared war on a woman looking like a woman...um...down there. Your trip to Taget this time includes a look at the hair removal aisle. Yes men, there is an entire aisle dedicated to making women look like naked mole rats. Oh, while also keeping our (head) hair long and luscious. And that is an entire aisle two over from hair removal.
So you look at the hot wax, cold wax, Nair, and other name and off-brand products and devices. There's even a device called the No-No. How much more obvious of a message is that for a woman that hair is bad!
You put a few items in the basket and vow to head to the gym. While in Target you see that they have swimsuits out. You know, for all the shoppers headed out for "cruise season". Why not, you say to yourself. Grab a few and head towards the dressing rooms. The lighting, oh the lighting. A million dollar idea would be to have a store dedicated to swimsuits of all sizes, types, and colors. With beautiful soft pink lights. And cucumber water. The water is of course just a formality as the real attraction will be the glass of champagne you receive as you walk in the door. If your shopping experience is too much of a shock there will also be taxis and uber available to take your drunk butt home...with your bathing suit of course.
But here you are in Target with their horrible lighting and bright, white walls. You undress to your undies and try on the first suit. At first you can't decide if the blinding white in front of you is from the walls or your legs. Guess what darling, it's your legs. You try on more and more eventually finding the suit that advertises that it will take 2 inches off your figure. This one doesn't look so bad. "Where does that two inches go?"you say. Then you do that half-turn butt glance and guess what? There it is! It's physics I suppose, that compressed mass has to head somewhere so gravity does it's part here. Sigh.

Leaving the dressing room you decide that the gym is definitely your next stop, right after the self-tanner aisle.

After the gym you head home to start the hair removal, self-tanning ritual. I won't go into too much detail here, but let's just say that the words exfoliation and pain are involved. And in case you wondered, home waxing kits do not work and can indeed burn you.

So now you are hairless and a little streaky in spots from the tanner. But you're ready for spring break. This process seemed simple enough but actually spanned months of prep and may or may not have involved Bondo and Kilz.

Returning now to January and a man has a fleeting thought that Spring Break is some time in the future. Flash forward to the first day of Spring Break. The man thinks about a shower, decides why bother and puts on the swim trunks his wife bought him.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Gramma got her groove...back?

I was unlucky enough to have had the stomach flu this past week. Yesterday I was at a local drug store waiting for my phenergan (another word for love) prescription to be filled and I was afforded the opportunity to do some people watching. This particular drug store attracts most of the city so there's a great cross-section of people coming and going.

My eyes fixed on one particular lady. She looked to be in her mid 80's and was perfectly turned out. She had a starched white shirt with a bright green cable-knit sweater pulled over it and all matched to her pressed khakis. Her makeup was subtle and defined her face rather than painted it. And the topper to her look was just that, a wig that you could tell had been styled just right. Again, subtle enough to allow her beauty to show through rather than let it wear her. 

I watched her for awhile as she went up and down each aisle. Remember, I was bored and nauseous so fixating on her was helping me to pass the time. I noticed that she had bought some laundry detergent as well as a large bottle of Metamucil. I thought that this trip must be a big outing for her as she was doing a little shopping and a lot of looking. I also noticed her feet. This was the one place where she even remotely showed her age. She was wearing compression socks and one of her feet was turned sharply inwards. She walked slowly with a slight limp because of this. I selfishly began to think of my own arthritic 40-something feet and made a mental note to see my doctor so that I would not end up like her with that walk that looked so painful. 
Just as I was having this thought she stopped at an end cap about 5 feet from me. She picked up a box of ultra-thin condoms and began to study the package. My nausea took backseat to the small drama unfolding in front of me. I wondered, was she looking at these for curiosity or was she buying them for a grandchild perhaps? Surely she was just curious and killing time reading, or this is what I told myself anyhow. I was still telling myself this as she tossed the condoms into her basket! 
OK, I thought still could be for a grandchild or who knows who. Then she reached over and grabbed the box of generic lubricant. She carefully read the package, turning it over to look at the price as well as the directions. Apparently she was a name brand kind of lady because she shakily returned that box to the shelf and grabbed the box of KY next to it. Boom! Straight into the cart it went.

I don't know this woman, but I love her. Obviously she has kept it ALL together and I need to take notes. She truly was perfectly turned out in every area of her life. I suppose her feet do hurt her, but I guess that doesn't matter when they aren't on the floor!