I was up in Miami recently, striding through the mall, as one does, trying to get the last couple of items I needed before returning to the rental car and motoring to the airport to catch my flight.
At such times, it is best not to make eye contact with the sellers positioned by those mobile carts who are certainly more aggressive than the average bear. As I sped up to pass one, I looked briefly in their direction and they sensed blood in the water. Would madam like to take a quick look? What caught my eye was an arrangement of undergarments obviously designed to corral one’s shape, including something that looked like control-top pantyhose with two small pillows sewn into the back. It struck me that a) If there’s one thing I did NOT need it was extra layers added to my rump; and b) Have we really gotten to the stage where we are buying fake bums? There are so many products out there to help us adjust the perception of our looks and body; it’s gone WAY beyond makeup these days!
I was allowed to wear ‘face paint’ at around the age of 17, and even though it was only mascara and lip gloss, I sure made the most of it. I layered that stuff on so thick (as only a rank amateur can) that my eyes ended up framed by what appeared to be a collection of dead wolf spiders, and my lips were shiny, shiny, shiny – like I’d eaten a dozen heavily buttered crackers. Over time, I learned how to apply it all with more grace, but I thought that more was always better – the foolish notions of the young. Make-up is great for hiding blemishes, enhancing our best features and downplaying what we perceive to be our imperfections and flaws, but less really is more as you become older … unless, apparently, you’re Joan Collins. Terrific advice – but don’t judge me when I’m out looking like Tammy Faye Baker. Saying it is one thing; putting it into practice is quite another. And by the way, I would never recommend waterproof mascara. That stuff is like epoxy resin.
Do I dye my hair? You betcha! It’s all brave talk – “I’m going to allow myself to go gray naturally” until those first silver soldiers start poking out from the scalp, then it’s time to run to the hairdresser PDQ lest an army start taking up ranks along your parting. I used to go with a sort of orangey-red colour, so it looked as though my entire head was on fire, but then I went darker and darker. I have always taken my mother’s advice, however, (who privately despairs at her daughter’s lack of attempts to calm down her wild mane) and have never gone as far as dying it solid black. The world only needs one Ozzy Osbourne.
Spanx is a company that has made millions with its products, designed to take pounds off the frame and smooth the silhouette. (I might mention that the founder of Spanx, whom I have met, doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her.) I have owned a pair of Spanx, and lemme tell ya that although they’re effective, you need to pull them on in a well-air-conditioned room with the addition of a ceiling fan, no deadline and no one else around you unless they want to be yelled at. Apply make-up once the perspiration has subsided. When you’re finally strapped in, I wouldn’t recommend drinking too much water on your night out, if you know what I mean. Those toilet cubicles can be restrictive when you need a lot of elbow room to manoeuvre …
One garment that really doesn’t offer much in the way of hidden additions to flatter is the bathing suit. Growing up on an island in the Caribbean inevitably meant beach parties and swimsuits. I’ve always been pretty bottom heavy, with the kind of plump hips that made me very popular with camel wranglers in Egypt. Word in the souk is that I would have been worth quite a few Dromedaries if I’d been interested in getting hitched.
Back in the ‘80s when those high-cut bikinis and one-pieces were all the rage, I was hard-pressed to find anything that would suit me. It also didn’t help that my skin was paledy-pale-pale. After subjecting everyone to my zaftig form in a neon pink number that would now be considered a relic from the good ol’ days of Poison, I finally found some models that better suited my frame. Subtle padding will accentuate the positives of your figure, but man, can swimsuit shopping be tough! I have the solution – how about going back to the old days of neck-to-ankle onesies so we can all wear our Spanx underneath?! Who’s with me?! Bueller? Bueller??
Of course, nowadays if you’re not happy with your body or your looks, you can go the more radical plastic surgery route. So far, I ain’t quite bitin’, but I’d be lying if I said I never surf the internet looking for options. I think it’s pictures of the late great Kenny Rogers and the obvious plastic surgery that left his eyes looking perpetually surprised that bring a dose of reality.
Sure, there are some things I’d change, if I magically could, but long ago I realised that Vogue wouldn’t be calling me for a multi-page spread, so why sweat the small stuff? If there’s one lesson I’ve learned over the years, it is to avoid those 10x mirrors they sell everywhere. They may help you pluck your eyebrows like an expert, but prepare to enjoy your pores with new eyes. I swear I could see the Sea of Tranquility on my left cheek when I foolishly purchased one. Never again. In fact, I don’t wear my glasses when I look in the mirror before I go out – it’s like instant soft lighting without renovating the bathroom.
Yessir, denial – that’s the key! It’s not just a river in Egypt … where future camel herders are waiting for my hand in marriage.
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