Saturday, March 13, 2004

Smells Like Denial 

I have to chuckle sometimes, when browsing the perfume aisle of any store. How’s a self-respecting woman supposed to feel about buying a scent named, “Baby Doll?” She can’t help but wonder, “Am I regressing?” “Do I have a need to regress and satisfy some expectation which hasn’t been met yet in my adult life?” The fact that it simply smells adorable and is packaged in a toddler-like spinning-top is enough for me to take pause and deeply examine my inner self and the potentially deeper meaning of a fairly unimportant purchase. And what if someone else were to inquire, “Gee, you smell great. What’s that called?” Being that I’m no longer a teenager, how sad would it be fore me to answer through my outward-adult appearance, “Baby Doll!” I’d have to lie to the potential consumer and pass it off as “some kind of musk or something. I don’t remember.”

So I guess that would make me a liar and surely not in the market for Calvin Klein’s new scent-da-jour, “Truth.” What was that man thinking? A woman wants a shot of “Truth” in the morning as much as she’d want to spritz a little “Reality,” thank you Liz Claiborne.
The truth is, I’m shoveling around and groveling for a job that’ll pay 25% less than any of my male counterparts. That the closing-window of my youth is my nemesis in this youth-obsessed country in which I live. The reality is that thin was never more in, 16-and-under was never more desirable in a “woman,” our current president has done more to repeal a woman’s reproductive rights than any of his predecessors. I can’t handle the truth, much less wreak of it. I can’t deal with the reality, much less assault my olfactory senses - and yours – with it.

You know , how about something that really hits the right “note” with a consumer like me. How about “Bitchlette,” a beautiful new scent that exudes feminine notes underscored with the seductive bouquet of hard-work. I think I’d buy that, and be happy to tell anyone who should wonder, just what “scent” I’m wearing.

Obsession, Truth and Contradiction, for all Eternity, this is the CK Conundrum. And it stinks.


Tuesday, March 02, 2004

I Gotta See Those Boobs! 

So one day my new friend, Mr. Editor Man, was telling me about the time he and his fiancée went to New Orleans. They were scouting for the place where their upcoming nuptials would take place, romantic cat that he is. So Mr. Editor Man was tending to his soon-to-be in-laws when he wonders what’s become of Mrs. Editor Man. He steps outside to see his par amour being felt up by two chicks. He was caught in two minds at one time, “Oh my god! Her parents are here!” and “Oh my god, that’s hot!”

He excuses himself for a minute and sullies over to his little lady and her two admirers. These passers-by had been attracted to his missus and approached with an innocent inquiry, wanting to examine her rack. She, being open minded and deeply secure, granted them access with pride.

The part of his story that struck me was the fact that two lesbians, presumably no strangers to the female form, who live in New Orleans, home of Mardi Gras and rampant nudity, were in a stupor over his woman’s tits. So I said to him, “I gotta see those boobs!”


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