What the hell is wrong with "frumpy" anyway?
Seriously, the only downside to coming home after I pick up Stevie at 3 is when I turn on the TV and am faced with afternoon television shows. Oprah's egomania is out of control (not big news, I know). The other day, her Best Friend Gayle was touring pizza places and then they shared some Chicago pizza on the air. Yes, America was riveted as Oprah ate her slice and said things like "that's fantastic". The thing is, America probably was riveted, and hopped onto Oprah's site immediately to look up that particular pizza joint and hope and pray, because their prayers are always with you, that that pizza joint delivered to South Carolina or Nebraska--somehow!--so that they could eat the rarified pizza that Lord Oprah eats. Oh shit. It's all too exciting.
And then there's the trend on these shows to give 'everyone in the audience' whatever they're featuring on the show, and the crowd goes nuts! I was watching Ellen. Or, I should say, Ellen was on. She was demonstrating this new video game thing that looks like something only very wealthy institutions could buy. There were 4 columns, maybe 6 feet high and a couple feet wide. Each column had 4 lights. You get green, I get red. Whenever a red light flashed, I have to jump to it and hit it. Similar with green. The point of this contraption is to get fat kids off their asses. Everyone in the audience clapped--oh what a lovely idea! And all it takes is another video game, this one costing thousands, to do it! Wonderful! So two people in the audience got chosen to play it, screamed in excitement all the way down, furiously played the game, and everyone agreed and clapped--again--at what a wonderful contraption this was. The winner's gifts were so spectacular that Ellen had to wait to present them. The LOSER of the game was presented, right there and then, with a cart of gifts. A cart of gifts consisting of every high-end video game system currently on the market (I guess--they're all a blue to me). The middle-aged woman went NUTS. Freaking crazy! For a cart of video games that her kids will . . . sit . . . and grow large . . . in front of. Good show, Ellen!
But the reason I'm writing is actually because of Dr. Phil. Or, rather, Dr. Phil's wife, Robin. Robin apparently took it upon her little polished self to dust off the frumpy housewives of America and spit-shine them until they fairly glowed. So a group of already thin women left their families and worked out for 2 weeks. They lost many inches of fat, many inches of hair, and gained many pounds of make-up. They showed the hideous Before pics, followed by a soul-inspiring After march across the stage ("And here's Susan NOW!!") Wow!!
OK, sure they looked better (the 2 I saw anyway). And sure they got to spend the day in Robin's Beverly Hills mansion ("Oh, your home is lovely, Robin!" "Thank you", says Robin, as the camera swept up the lovely staircase and lovingly curved around the Trump-ish kitchen.) and picked up a lot of Robin's favorite pampering products ("I just love to take a long bath after working out, and these are my favorite bath products!" Squeal!) A long bath after working out? Come on.
So the women came out wearing their pocketless, dry clean only clothes, and pledged to burn their overalls and "take time to look fabulous every day!"
Which makes me wonder...What the hell is wrong with "frumpy" anyway?
Dr. Phil's wife Robin is a tiny bird of a woman, loaded with money and time. She has that curiously overdone 90210 look that, in my opinion, far too many women have embraced (with their teeny-yet-sculpted and shiny, buffed arms). It's a cliche to say this, but it IS very Stepford. The overall result of 'looking great' is looking plastic. Fake. These are the women who have their labia shaped in more pleasing . . . patterns? I'm not sure what a good-looking labia consists of these days. And, no, Dr. Phil's wife, I don't WANT to know.
I love my overalls. They're comfortable and practical. They come off, and I have sex with my husband. Yes, he still manages to get turned on even when confronted with my extra pounds and my frumpy overalls with their many pockets stuffed with tissues and keys and Hot Wheels. He's obviously a real freak. Would he like it if I walked around in lacy lingerie and Jimmy Choo's and lots of 'product'?
Seeing as how all that shit costs money (unless you get it for FREE on Oprah!), and how it requires a shitload of shopping time (I can't even imagine doing that), the answer is no. I'm sure he'd see all this for what it is--a thinly disguised commercial for overpriced items that no one needs. It's nice to lose a few pounds or get a good haircut, but it's not the key to self-esteem. Sorry. That lies a few inches under those hideously wonderful overalls. And I will continue to wear them, thanks. And if you call me "frumpy", I promise you that I won't care a bit.
And then there's the trend on these shows to give 'everyone in the audience' whatever they're featuring on the show, and the crowd goes nuts! I was watching Ellen. Or, I should say, Ellen was on. She was demonstrating this new video game thing that looks like something only very wealthy institutions could buy. There were 4 columns, maybe 6 feet high and a couple feet wide. Each column had 4 lights. You get green, I get red. Whenever a red light flashed, I have to jump to it and hit it. Similar with green. The point of this contraption is to get fat kids off their asses. Everyone in the audience clapped--oh what a lovely idea! And all it takes is another video game, this one costing thousands, to do it! Wonderful! So two people in the audience got chosen to play it, screamed in excitement all the way down, furiously played the game, and everyone agreed and clapped--again--at what a wonderful contraption this was. The winner's gifts were so spectacular that Ellen had to wait to present them. The LOSER of the game was presented, right there and then, with a cart of gifts. A cart of gifts consisting of every high-end video game system currently on the market (I guess--they're all a blue to me). The middle-aged woman went NUTS. Freaking crazy! For a cart of video games that her kids will . . . sit . . . and grow large . . . in front of. Good show, Ellen!
But the reason I'm writing is actually because of Dr. Phil. Or, rather, Dr. Phil's wife, Robin. Robin apparently took it upon her little polished self to dust off the frumpy housewives of America and spit-shine them until they fairly glowed. So a group of already thin women left their families and worked out for 2 weeks. They lost many inches of fat, many inches of hair, and gained many pounds of make-up. They showed the hideous Before pics, followed by a soul-inspiring After march across the stage ("And here's Susan NOW!!") Wow!!
OK, sure they looked better (the 2 I saw anyway). And sure they got to spend the day in Robin's Beverly Hills mansion ("Oh, your home is lovely, Robin!" "Thank you", says Robin, as the camera swept up the lovely staircase and lovingly curved around the Trump-ish kitchen.) and picked up a lot of Robin's favorite pampering products ("I just love to take a long bath after working out, and these are my favorite bath products!" Squeal!) A long bath after working out? Come on.
So the women came out wearing their pocketless, dry clean only clothes, and pledged to burn their overalls and "take time to look fabulous every day!"
Which makes me wonder...What the hell is wrong with "frumpy" anyway?
Dr. Phil's wife Robin is a tiny bird of a woman, loaded with money and time. She has that curiously overdone 90210 look that, in my opinion, far too many women have embraced (with their teeny-yet-sculpted and shiny, buffed arms). It's a cliche to say this, but it IS very Stepford. The overall result of 'looking great' is looking plastic. Fake. These are the women who have their labia shaped in more pleasing . . . patterns? I'm not sure what a good-looking labia consists of these days. And, no, Dr. Phil's wife, I don't WANT to know.
I love my overalls. They're comfortable and practical. They come off, and I have sex with my husband. Yes, he still manages to get turned on even when confronted with my extra pounds and my frumpy overalls with their many pockets stuffed with tissues and keys and Hot Wheels. He's obviously a real freak. Would he like it if I walked around in lacy lingerie and Jimmy Choo's and lots of 'product'?
Seeing as how all that shit costs money (unless you get it for FREE on Oprah!), and how it requires a shitload of shopping time (I can't even imagine doing that), the answer is no. I'm sure he'd see all this for what it is--a thinly disguised commercial for overpriced items that no one needs. It's nice to lose a few pounds or get a good haircut, but it's not the key to self-esteem. Sorry. That lies a few inches under those hideously wonderful overalls. And I will continue to wear them, thanks. And if you call me "frumpy", I promise you that I won't care a bit.
posted by lulu | 6:15 AM
2 Comments:
And, by the way, America needs to stop with the standing ovations. Scott Baio got a standing ovation. Nintendo got a standing ovation. Seriously, people, if you ovate at everything, what will you do when you're actually overwhelmed by a performance?
Think 'Rubenesque'
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