on fake titties, fat lips and family values
redefining resilience in an age of plastic surgery
So dear reader,
I was in downtown Halifax just the other day.
It was a heavy tourist day.
A family walked by - Dad, his sons, his wife and their adult daughter.
The dad and mom looked my age - middle aged.
Dad had really nice skin - it was smooth, no wrinkles.
He had really great hair and very nice clothes.
Mom?
She may have been a fox at one time.
Though she was more lady gaga these days.
That’s right dear reader, she had a pokerface.
Well…
With that much botox and plastic, even if this lady had an emotion, that mug of hers wasn’t moving.
Her clothes though? Elegant?
Fashoon-able?
Slick?
Perhaps but certainly not ‘pretty’.
There’s something about being pretty. This lady couldn’t pull that off.
But what stood out the most about her?
No, it was not her punching bag lips.
A question dear reader, when did it become attractive for women to look like they had hotdogs where their lips should be?
At what point in time did men decide that kissing guppies was fun?
Maybe puffy lips like this are a safety feature…
Right?
If they were in a tall building that did world trades and an airplane hit it, the would likely be able to climb down the sides like one of those sucker footed frogs that you see pictures of, or like a giant banana slug on a window just using their mouths.
I tell ya folks this safety culture has gone too far…
And this botox babe?
Her lips were only the first thing I noticed.
Then?
Then I saw her boobies.
Oh holy moly did she ever have big titties.
And those titties?
They were to boobies what cubic zirconia is to diamonds -
FAKE AS FUCK
They didn’t seem to really fit her chest.
It was like they took the biggest implants they could find and stretched them under the tightest skin on the planet.
And here shirt?
Well her shirt looked like they were trying to fit wading pool into an ice cube tray.
Those titties were so big!
And this is where the safety element comes into play.
If she were to ever trip and fall, there’s no way she’d fall and hit her face.
She’d just bounce right up like some sort of inverted weeble.
No matter what happened to her, with titties that that, she’d be safe. She was a walking talking bop bag.
Her theme tune? It had to be Tubthumping by Chumbawumba.
The best part though?
With those big silicone clown bags, there would be no need for airbags in any of her cars.
Did I mention that I may have noticed her titties?
Titties that big in a low cut shirt just scream to be noticed.
There’s little more that she could have done to get men to look at them other than attaching neon signs and runway lights leading up to them.
And then?
Then I noticed her daughter.
I noticed her pretty, natural daughter, also wearing a low cut shirt, with her much smaller titties getting a bit of sun onto them.
And then?
Then I felt a bit sad.
After that?
Judgemental.
In a family that has clearly had A LOT of work done by a surgeon with many Porches, I began to wonder: When does the young one get her fake titties? Is this some sort of new coming of age for her?
Right?
Does she get an iPhone at 10, a pony at 16, a car at 16 and big fake titties to help her find a man when she’s 21 and ready for roofies and a college town bar?
I’m still not sure how I feel about this family.
The dad was a slick haired bozo with a very punchable face.
The boys?
Too preppy, too clean. I wouldn’t trust them. They look like the kind of nice boys who’d be kind to your face but would shit in your pillow one day after a frat party.
But the ladies?
These barbie babes?
When I looked at the daughter, I imagined what mom may have looked like.
Then?
Then I felt a bit sad.
But then again, she’s probably seen a lot of shit, felt a lot of pain to be that insecure.
And no matter what ever time she’s been smacked down by life, those big fake titties protect that plastic hot dog lipped face of hers and she bounces right back up again.
And maybe?
That was mom’s therapy.
And perhaps the daughter might discover the forest, or surfing, or pottery.
And if not?
She may feel pain too.
But in the event of a car wreck, she’ll never be in need of airbags.
