Pretty Please...With A Cherry On Top

I think I am working in the wrong industry.

After a long and hectic week, I decided that a calming trip to the hairdresser was very much needed (The fact that my colleagues had started calling me Cousin IT…and a kind RSPCA worker kept dropping by to see whether I had been micro-chipped yet , had nothing whatsoever to do with it.)

I get along pretty well with my hairdresser, but each time I come in for a trim the same scenario plays out: I ask her to make me look 27 years old, she falls about the floor laughing and then proceeds to do whatever she fancies on the day to my unsuspecting head.

Normally, the results aren't too bad. There has been the odd follicle faux pas, like the time I was convinced that my hair could use a bit of a perm for body and that perhaps this was also the time to test the theory about "Blondes having a slightly better time of it". She looked at me somewhat cynically and sighed (the kind of sigh that can only be interpreted as "Forgot the meds this morning, did we?" ) and went to fetch the peroxide.

When she had finished, I handed her my credit card and cried "Bring on the mirror! Let's see this fine new creation".

She happily obliged and waited patiently for me to stop screaming, before penciling me in for another appointment that day to try and undo the "Deranged Albino Wookie"-look.
The last visit was quite uneventful though. She snipped away as we chatted about the deep and meaningful things of life…her ex, her ex's dog, her ex's dog's case of canine gingivitis, and then, reasonably happy with the result , I grabbed my credit card and we walked to the register.

Now, I don't know what sort of crazy time-warp occurred between the time I got out of the chair and left the salon, but I found myself walking home with 3 large bags of so-called product…$380.00 worth to be exact.

There were tubes of moisturizer, tubs of hair wax, packets of exfoliating thingies, little tubs of gunk to unclog, reclog, rejuvenate, dejuvenate, smooth-over, strip and polish.

And that's not all, everything had it's own unique scent. I had acquired chocolate-smelling hair conditioners, cinnamon facial scrubs, banana and coconut body washes and caramel foot lotions.
When I got home and tested out some of these little goodies, the man of the manor didn't know whether to compliment me, or go and grab a spoon. I couldn't help but think that if I had gone to Baskin and Robbins and simply smeared a couple of tubs of ice-cream over myself, the effect would not have been dissimilar (albeit a LOT cheaper).

Did my hairdresser think that my poor old body was in that much chronic disrepair, that I needed to be transforming myself into a strawberry sundae? More importantly did I think so too? (…considering I had just spent more money on various "beauty-enhancing" bits and pieces than I would on my weekly mortgage payment.)

I have always thought of myself as the type of woman who would be more than happy and proud, to grow older gracefully and naturally…and I still do. I realise that beauty product manufacturers have long focused their marketing on the insecurities of women and their vanities. Nowhere is this more evident than where I live, here on the Gold Coast.

In the US, the coffee company "Starbucks" prides itself on its slogan ,"One on every corner" - and this seemed to be the case when I was there. On the Gold Coast, the green and white coffee franchise on every corner is absent, replaced with a "Boobs R Us" clinic, or similar.

Seriously, the amount of money that pours through these here parts, on achieving that Double D Cup, or smaller nose, or flatter stomach is phenomenal, to say the least. A good friend of mine, in recent months, took an unscheduled week off of annual leave. She had just broken up with her partner of seven years, so we thought the break was welcome time off for her to go and lick wounds, and then to return a bigger, braver woman for having done so.

Well, I don't know about braver, but she certainly came back somewhat substantially bigger than before she left.

I love this lady dearly, but even I still find it hard to keep a straight face, when I see a pair of knockers appear around the door before the face and other body parts catch up.

When I asked the question why, she shrugged and said, "I just wanted to feel like a fuller-bodied woman, and hey, guys like tits."

I bit my tongue, sorely wanting to point out, that whilst some of her potential paramours may well be breast-men, they were also probably quite partial to their sense of sight, and anyone within a 2-metre radius of her was in danger of perhaps losing an eye or two, should she start jiggling them about.

She went on to tell me that her surgeon was one of the best and that she would be returning later in the year to have a face lift and tummy tuck….because it made her feel good, and it was what everyone was doing these days.

I doubt this is true, but it certainly seems to be on the rise, if the number of pages in the newspaper dedicated to telling me how much more beautiful I could look, if only I would take the time to come and see Doctor X about those unsightly cellulite thighs...are to be  believed. (For the record, I don't have cellulite thighs, but after reading through this little blurb, I did find myself bending over backwards squinting hard in the mirror to just double check.)

I have no problem with women getting a little nip and tuck, if it is what makes them feel better. One should do as one pleases. I have seen it taken a little too far though. I mean, have you SEEN Joan Rivers lately? Another case in point is a client of one of my colleagues. You know that maybe you have had one face-lift too many, when every time you come into the office someone innocuously asks you what part of Southeast Asia you hail from.

Naomi Wolf put it very succinctly I thought, in her book "The Beauty Myth"

"Women have face-lifts in a society in which women without them appear to vanish from sight".


I like my little emerging laugh-lines, and I see no need to erase them now, or in the near future, as they remind me of all the things I have done in my life to date (and even if I wanted to, I seriously doubt the $45.99 tube of Tutti Frutti wrinkle eradicating cream is going to do the trick).

I was discussing this point with a lovely male friend over a mid-evening drink recently, and I posed the question to him, as to whether he was a leg-man or a breast-man. He turned to me, laughed and responded "Neither..I am a brain-man". I then toasted him with a glass of Tyrells Old Winery Semillon….very fragrant and floral on the nose, with just a hint of vanilla and citrus lemon/lime.

Guaranteed to enhance nothing but an enjoyable evening with genuinely gorgeous people.

So, next time I am at my hairdresser, I will ask her to trim my locks, and thank her for the beauty products she told me I absolutely had to have last time.

They may not have turned me into a flawless 20-something…but they have saved me a lot of money in car air fresheners.