Louis Bayard

Louis Bayard
Location
Washington, DC,
Birthday
November 30
Title
Staff writer
Company
Salon
Bio
Born in Arizona, moved to Babylonia

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MAY 14, 2008 9:58AM

Ehhh....

Rate: 10 Flag

 

So my 7-year-old son came home the other day and said: “Papa, do you have a five-pack?”

            “You mean a six-pack?” I asked.

            “That’s it.”

            “You mean like … a six-pack stomach?”

“Yeah.”

            God knows what possessed me, but in the next moment, I was lifting my shirt (taking care, of course, to suck in my gut).  Seth studied it a good long while and then said:

            “Ehh.”

And as he said it, he made that little wiggling motion with the hand.  I didn’t even know he knew this gesture, but I sure as hell know this.  As a physical specimen, I am seriously lacking.  In the last few days alone, my son has told me:

1) My teeth are too yellow.

2) My face is too wrinkled.

3) My stomach (in addition to being a two-and-a-half-pack) is too hairy.

            If I were dating him, I think I would have broken it off by now.  Instead, I’m starting to consider plastic surgery.

            And the good news is this.  If I ever do go under the knife for purely esthetic reasons, someone stands ready to explain the situation to my kids.  According to a Washington Post article (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/18/AR2008041802861.html), a South Florida plastic surgeon has put out a children’s book called “My Beautiful Mommy,” which explains why “Mommy,” in the interests of lookin’ good, goes away with one nose and comes back with another. 

            But why stop there?  How about “Mommy’s Face Doesn’t Move”?  “My Daddy Can’t Frown”?  “If Mommy Gets One More Lift, She’ll Have Daddy’s Beard”?  “Papa Used to Have a Gut, and Now He’s Strangely Ripped (But Only for the Next Year or So).”

            Bring it on.  I’ll be ready with a whole line of counter-propaganda geared to the same kiddie audience.  “Mommy Is Plump Because of You.”  “Daddy Drinks Because of You.”  And (this is the book I’ll write myself): “In Thirty Years, Your Teeth Will Be Yellow, Too.  Repeat After Me.  Ha.  Ha.  Ha.”

 

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After a recent hip surgery, I still have quite a stockpile of pain medication in my medicine cabinet. Reading that link about the book makes me want swallow them all at once and just end it all.
Too funny.

My 4-year-old daughter recently told me that, "it's called a forehead for your four lines." Ouch.
Along this line, does anyone else watch the show "10 Years Younger" on TLC? I am completely fascinated with it, but one of the things that really bugs me about it is that all of the stuff they do seems only to help for a short period of time -- Botox, teeth vaneers (or however you spell that), one outfit, etc.

It seems they are trying to make people so much better for a short period of time, while they do not provide the people with anything to keep up what can be quite expensive treatments over time. I find it kind of fake. But maybe that's what we all want, just to look better for at least one day. . .
How about "Mommy Drinks to Forget She's Not Hot Anymore?"

I went to an Irish pub a few weeks ago and, being in Scottsdale, the nesting place of bleached blonde and plastic surgeoned Ladies Who Lunch, I saw my share. The worst though had eyebrows drawn almost to her scalpline (which of course never moved) and lips that looked as if she had been attacked by swarms of killer bees. Though her appearance made her seem desperate, worse were the reactions of the semi to totally buzzed people at the bar who, when she turned away, curled their tongues over their upper lips and stuck their bottom lips out to touch their chins. Funny but sad.

I think I'll stick to my wrinkles, scowls, and rapidly-declining jawline. At least, I still have nice eyes (with brows right above them).
I got my first pair of glasses when I was 7 years old. To this day I can remember putting them on in the optician's office, looking at my mother, and saying, "Hey, you've got wrinkles!". Others in the office started giggling, and poor mom was so embarrassed.