The Best Kept Secret Blog - You Say Breast Augmentation, I Say Krab - Part II
You say midlife-crisis. I say Thursday.
It has become impossible to attend a gathering (cocktail party, line-up at the bank machine, school PTA meeting) that includes 40 and 50 somethings and not have the conversation turn to a discussion of midlife-crisis.
Consider this exchange from a recent dinner party.
Host: "So, I'm still going through my midlife-crisis. On Friday I noticed my bald spot was getting bigger and I was depressed all day. Can I top up your wine?"
Me: "It takes a long time to get through this stage. You're luck you're just depressed - at least you're still functioning. I know a woman who had an affair with a younger man. It eventually fizzled but her husband found out and dumped her. Now the husband has a new, younger wife and my friend spends her evenings updating her profile on LavaLife.
"These beans are fabulous! I must get the recipe."
Hostess: "I'm glad you like them. Phew, I'm so glad I finished my midlife-crisis. I went through mine last June. That's just the way I am - fast and efficient."
(She's always been such a smug overachiever.)
You say effortless-style. I say liar.
There's nothing effortless about what it takes to get ready to leave the house these days.
From the moment I start hopping up and down as I wriggle into my shapewear, through the application of serum, moisturizer, primer and foundation all necessary to achieve a natural look, to the depressing moment I stand in front of my closet and realize I don't have a clue how to dress anymore (Does this make me look too young? Too old? Too hippy? Too saggy?), I'm working.
And I can't even call the final result "style". I'm happy if I can leave the house without my children rolling their eyes or laughing at me.
So to all the fashion magazines with the glossy spreads promising effortless style at any age, I just want to say "We're on to you Pinocchio."
You say vintage. I say my prom dress.
I was in a trendy store in Leslieville this spring, an upcoming shopping destination in Toronto. I had read about this store in the local paper as being a hot, new destination for fabulous vintage clothing.
With visions of demure Doris Day suits and sexy Marilyn Monroe dresses dancing in my head, I made the trek.
When I walked in, I was greeted by a young woman from her perch behind the cash register. As I looked at her to return the greeting, I had the uncanny feeling I had seen her before. Then I realized it wasn't her - it was her clothes.
She was wearing a skirt and top ensemble that I had worn when I got my first job after high school, circa 1979.
"Poor girl", I thought. "She must not make very much money in retail and she has to wear old clothes. It must be tough working around all of these gorgeous, vintage items and not being able to afford them."
Then I turned to peruse the vintage items. And they were all from the 1970s and 1980s. I even recognized some that I still had at home and occasionally wore.
I (and my clothes) had become the new vintage. And the young woman I had moments before pitied thought she was at the height of fashion.
You say progressives. I say bi-focals.
Kudos to the clever marketer that turned this phrase. While I'm obviously too young for bi-focals (that's what my parents needed), I'm definitely hip enough for progressives.
You Say Breast Augmentation, I Say Krab
Finally, as in last year's You Say Breast Augmentation, I Say Krab, the last word goes to a friend of mine, a divorced man in his mid 40's. When I asked him what his thoughts were on cosmetic enhancement, he immediately thought I was referring to breast implants. Go figure.
That aside, he used a restaurant analogy in his response. It seems to him that a woman who has her breasts enlarged so as you'd notice, is basically saying that she is a volume business (no pun intended); an 'all you can eat' buffet, rather than fine dining.
He admits that many men have gone through a time in their lives when 'all you can eat' was the way to go. Its great at first, but after a while you notice that you are getting 'Krab', instead of crab, and you wake up the morning after gravy-stained and feeling horrible.
