Never a dull day at the new Pharon Square abode! Tonight, after an exceptionally mundane day filled with work and a boring trip to Target, I found myself in my room, admiring Claire's new Compression Nylons. What are those, you ask? Well, apparently Claire broke my cardinal rule of never buying a Groupon for a "procedure" and used a Groupon to get some gunk shot into her legs to cover up some teeny, dark veins, and now has to wear these tights to keep all the gunk in place or something. It's a purely cosmetic procedure, but now she's all laid up, in her tight tights, with her new pretty legs. I'm an eensy weensy jealous. Claire has legs for days, whereas I have the legs of a Troll doll. So her walking around in tights is a very different scene than me walking around in tights. Her legs are long and normal. Mine would look like summer sausages. But I digress...
So it occurred to me that women do some ca-raaazy things to keep ourselves in top-notch shape. I'm not even talking about, like, diets or anything. (Because trust me, there are plenty of people - not just women - who obsess over every morsel of food they put in their mouth. Is it organic? Is it low-cal? Psht. Public Service Announcement: That behavior is very annoying to your friends.) Anyway, no. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about compression nylons, scalding wax, and internal-organ-crushing intimate wear. It's painful. It's intense. It's insane.
Now don't get me wrong. I love me some Spanx. They work hard for their money by sucking me into prime curvatures. But they are annoying and unattractive and expensive. But do YOU know any girl who doesn't have a pair? If you do, count yourself among the very teeny minority. Now think, for a second, if a man were to slap on that flesh-toned masochistic torture device. They don't. They just buy bigger clothes, or wear a basketball jersey and giant shorts everywhere.
Then there's the medieval devices known as "straighteners" or "curling irons". Basically we suffer through hours of the intensely high heat of these hair styling devices only to end up with a very vulnerable, carefully crafted coif that comes completely unraveled at the mere hint of a breeze. Plus, I've gotten literally dozens of burns on my forehead and neck while trying to achieve the perfect "effortless, breezy waves". "Effortless" my Aunt Fanny. Now luckily, I've not enjoyed the chance to have my scalp pounded by formaldehyde, but apparently, women are now doing this - the Brazilian Blowout - to achieve the much-coveted straight hair.
And if you are a chick who can make it through one month without having your feet attacked and mutilated by some pedicurist/torture expert, you can go ahead and pat yourself on the back.
Claire and I were just brainstorming ideas of more of the crazy, insane procedures women have to go through to have that "natural beauty" look, and we ran into a brick wall of sorts. I offered "lip injections, boob jobs, and Botox" and she countered with "Well, they're all injections, like my legs, so maybe that's redundant." Then she came up with "waxing, laser hair removal, and bleaching". While these are all completely relevant, I have already discussed these ridiculous procedures.
The fact that so many of these womanly practices have become redundant is just so...sad. Hey men and judgmental ladies? Quit it with the crazy standards. There is only so much a body can go through before you become the horribly disfigured face of the tragic, pre-teen Ali Lohan. Yes, I know it says she hasn't had any "procedures" done, but COME ON!
It's crazy. There's too much that women can or are supposed to do just to look "natural". Natural means laugh lines and frizzy hair on humid days, and thighs with a bit more, uh, texture than we'd like. Natural is the occasional stray hair, or the double-digit jeans sizes. Natural is a big laugh, or a smart retort. It has nothing to do with constriction, or injections, or pain. I wish more people could embrace that concept.
I think the dumbest part of all this is that when I told Claire she was an idiot for getting some random substance shot into her model-worthy legs, she laughed and said "Why not?! I like how it looks!" And she has a point. Turns out, some of the torture we put ourselves though is for ourselves alone. I personally like it when my hair is wavy and sleek. So what if it takes me 1.5 hours and 6.5 burns to get that? I like it when it's all done and I'm the first to fondle my own curls. I just kind of hope that we are going through all this malarkey for vanity alone. Then it's fine because all that stuff hurts, and then we are the only ones who can truly appreciate the effects.
So keep that in mind, people. At the end of the day, you're the only one dissecting your pores and veins and wrinkles in the mirror. My money is on the fact that everyone else just sees You. And if you read this blog, I have no doubt that you are already totally awesome. Never change, guys. Never change.