Vocabulary

I have expanded my vocabulary. No, not with the words that I usually miss in a game of WordTwist (I *NEVER* remember the word "gnu". In fact, I still don't know what the word means.) Instead, my vocabulary expanded thanks to a Facebook discussion of "barbie mothers" and a Huffington Post article on "boob tape".

First, the "barbie mothers". My sister -- a perfectly nice-looking, professional, well-groomed woman -- lives in a part of Portland frequented by the high-heeled, spa-going, Prada-bag-carrying types. Not that there is anything wrong with those qualities, mind you, just that being in a room full of size 2, highlighted, lowlighted, pedicured, manicured, full-blow-out, full make-up, perfectly-dressed women can make the mom who shows up with the $9 Target purse, jeans, outgrown highlights and old Nikes feel a bit insecure. My sister was at a birthday party for a five-year-old (complete with pedis and manis for the children), stuck in a room full of these women, all of whom skipped the birthday cake in order to be "good." (My sister happily partook.)

Sis shared the experience on a Facebook post, complete with the story of one mother who, after learning my sister is a doctor, asked her for the name of a good "dermo" (dermatologist). My sister asked her what was wrong, thinking maybe she was worried about an odd mole. But, no, she just wanted something to lighten her freckles. Yes, we can't let somebody have freckles, now can we?

This story prompted a flurry of responses from my sister's friends, who (presumably) are sympathetic with my sister finding herself surrounded by those who think dressing for a kid's birthday party entails clothing worthy of a fancy outdoor wedding, complete with the Gucci purse and matching toenails and fingernails. My favorite comment was the following, "Did they all have the coveted lollipop look (big head, no body)?"

"Lollipop look" -- what a GREAT description of the barbie mothers!! Although, as I found out later in the thread, it *appears* that a few of them may have augmented a part of their anatomy in such a way as to only make them look more like a barbie doll. (To those feeling slow today: BOOBS.)

This prompted another great quote in the discussion, this time from my cousin: "I still have my original boobs." "My original boobs" -- what a great term! She went on to say that were she to find a lump, she'd get new ones. I'm with ya, sister! Too much breast cancer in our family for me to think otherwise. In fact, I know one retired plastic surgeon who spent the last decade of his career removing non-diseased breasts and replacing them with fake ones for women who were worried about their chances of getting breast cancer, based on family history. That, of course, is worthy of another blog. But I get *that* reason for getting new boobs. (If I'm honest with myself, I also have some sympathy for those who just want to look a little better; but still, wouldn't it be great if women just loved the bodies they had, rather than feeling they had to "fix" them in every way imaginable?)

This discussion of boobs brings me to the Huffington Post article on "boob tape," and thus to the other extension of my vocabulary. I've never used it myself, but the pictures of pretty starlets whose boob tape "slipped" got me thinking about the lengths women go to to look good. It's not enough to have the great boobs -- you gotta tape the clothing to them so that they look "right." And pity the poor soul whose clothing has the audacity to un-stick, leaving the unsightly double-sided tape showing in the picture.

I think I'll stick to my old jeans, nikes and t-shirts. No boob tape needed. No need to worry about the lollipop look. And (I am thankful to be able to say), I still have my original boobs.