So, I was zoning out in the mirror…September 17, 2008
and got to pressing my ears in, then letting them pop back out. I don’t have ears that stick out, no more than they should, but when you look in the mirror for too long, funny things happen.
It got me to thinking, or rather, remembering.
I hung out with this girl (woman, I should say, but it was more than a decade ago) who had had her ears done. Yeah, you heard me through your non-done ears correctly–she had her ears done. I saw pictures of her as a child, and they weren’t bad. Actually, they were fine. At the tender age of…well, I don’t know, but it was before she was 20, and the scars were damn near invisible by then (trust me, I looked…I looked everywhere).
She wanted to be a model–or more probably, her mother wanted her to be a model. It happened, she went on to do what she had wanted, and probably ended up doing okay at it as well. But the ears thing. Seriously, what price glory? What if it had been screwed up in some odd way? Imagine an otherwise unbelievably beautiful woman with deranged ears? Yikes.
I won’t kid you, I’m a big fan of immaculately manicured and semi manufactured looking women. There’s something about the industrial sterility of them that makes them both unbelievably attractive and utterly forgettable afterwards. It’s a great total package if you’re into that kind of thing. But, at the same time, I really enjoy the lingering, nuanced attractiveness of natural, ‘normal’ woman more. The jeans and blouse girl with the two year old hairstyle, and the slightly ravaged look. It’s like they dig a little deeper into your soul than the medically perfected, symmetry guaranteed style mavens ever could.
Maybe I’ll get calf implants just to see what the whole hubbub is about.