Friday, October 3, 2008
The Butt Bra (Just Not Pretty Enough)
First, a disclaimer. I color my hair. When it’s too dark, I look like Bela Lugosi. That’s why I have no problem with improving the hand that nature dealt us (to a point). And neither do television talk show hosts – in the past two months I’ve seen a whole posse of plastic surgeons and their greatest creations cheesing from the front row. They talk about collagen, botox, restylane and some stuff made out of pig skin. There’s a lift, a tuck, a sucking out and a plumping up for every part of a not-quite-good enough body. Eager audiences applaud for women who were renewed by surgery or non-surgically “refreshed.” They squirm at big-screen shots of oozing injections. They’re shocked and sympathetic to guests with scary stories (and the scars to prove them) of surgery that made them wish they’d kept those thin lips or that A cup.
Most of the shows were mildly interesting. But when talk turned to the perky booty, one particular show became fall-down funny. So listen up: if you want a high round butt, but don’t want it cut and stuffed into a Brazilian Butt Lift, there’s a Butt Bra in your future. When I finished laughing, I had to search the net for a picture. It looked like the unholy marriage of a chastity belt and a horse bridle. What sadist created this contraption? And what woman is so desperate for a book shelf booty that she’d walk the streets bound up in an instrument of torture? I was a little ticked; there was nothing comparable for men. But before I could work up a good head of steam, I found a figure in boxer briefs, sporting “The Package Booster.” I laughed so hard I expected a knock on the door and a charge of disturbing the peace.
So here’s a question: What happens at the moment of truth when the clothes come off and the woman’s apple bottom butt drops to the back of her knees? Or when that long limousine (as promised by the Package Booster) turns into a "tiny little Volkswagen with two flat tires"? In sue-happy America I can just see these people in front of Judge Joe Brown claiming false advertising, misrepresentation of goods, bait and switch, or whatever it’s called in legalese.
The real question is “what price beauty?” And when does this craziness start? Here’s one answer: it begins when a 7 year old girl is replaced by a lip-synching stand-in because she’s “just not pretty enough.” In the words of my mother, it’s a sure sign we’re going to hell in a hand basket.