Life Long Primping
April 8, 2013 § 1 Comment
Posted April 2011
There is no denying it, a lot of work goes into being a girl. And we hate on each other for god given elements of beauty. Some ladies would be jealous of my “naturally straight” hair, just like I curse the girl with the effortless curls. I am 100% jealous of the morning person because she always looks better than me for the simple fact that she doesn’t have to put her make-up on in the car. Just like I can’t stand Ms. Hyper-metabolism, yet persist in indulging in chicken fingers and Ben and Jerry’s on a bi-weekly basis (okay, more often than that, if I was being honest, but I’m not). And I wonder why I can be bikini ready year round.
The grass is always greener, eh? I suppose I am envied as well, I got a great rack. I don’t need to stress about getting a miracle into my bra, or misleading my public. The meat is there, and set up on the top shelf too. I suppose we should all be thankful for what we’ve got, but still, I would trade both of these sprightly jugs to be able to wear something strapless or backless without feeling like the two tubs of pudding clutched to my ribcage weren’t going to spill out of my armpit. It’s like at any moment: nipple. People just watch, waiting for it. It’s not only guys and lesbians, but straight ladies are just as mesmerized by large uncaged wild bosoms. I’ve tried everything to control these things to wear the fashion of the day, strapped in, pushed up, sticky boobed, peddled, all 27 ways to wear the multi-strap, every over the shoulder bolder holder imaginable. Oh the aching, the chafing, the sagging, the hiking up every 20 seconds, a strapless bra shouldn’t really be considered a bra at all. It does little to contain and support.
Oh the Madonna that walks out of her house braless, air dried hair, perfectly wavy and naturally highlighted, wearing nothing but a sun kissed complexion, some ol’ frock she found near the dumpster that just so happened to be practically made for her and somehow she’s completely hairless. I guarantee this woman doesn’t exist. Let’s be honest, some put more time in than others, but as a women living in the western world, select attributes are expected to look a certain way.
Shaved, waxed, bleached, lasered, plucked, plumped, trimmed, tanned, tucked, toned, tinted, shadowed, sprayed, cut, colored, curled, crimped, under eye concealed, powered, rouged, whitened, bronzed, moosed, greased, brushed, full bodied, styled, straightened, highlighted, lowlighted, hair-extended, flat ironed, non-frizzy, frosted, layered, heeled, skirted, belted, accessorized, moisturized, blown out, augmented, cleavage enhanced, pushed up, sucked in, smoothed out, invisible panty lines, lip glossed, blemish free, blackhead fighting, cellulite reducing, anti-aging, color coordinating, eye liner, lip liner, panty liner, facial masked, coco buttered, manicured, pedicured, Brazilian waxed, Brazilian blow-out-ed, yoga-ed, Pilated, worked-out, fitness goaled, lifted, chin up, shoulders back, legs crossed, low-carb, low-fat, fat-free, sugar-free, south-beached, detoxed, modest but sexy, conservative but suggestive, unique but trendy, simultaneously concealed and revealed, nonchalantly perfectly put together, purse preparedness, health conscious, environmentally conscious, holistic, realistic, poised, polite, witty, smart, charming and instinctually maternal. All day, every day while appearing as though it takes no effort at all. So let’s be allies instead of enemies, because everyone of us has gotten shit for leg stubble on the fourth day of a busy week.