The Green Swamp Monster and Poolside Beauties

I couldn’t have been more thrilled when my husband proposed a Vegas getaway! I have a love for the Vegas poolside attractions and the endless people watching possibilities.  I packed my favorite poolside attire and was game for a fun trip!

The moment we arrived I slipped on my shiny green halter swimsuit and we headed straight for the pool.  I kicked up my feet and rested on a lounge chair ready to dive into my James Patterson Novel.  I looked up to take a sip of my passion punch,  and  that was when two gorgeous young Victoria Secret models plopped in the lounge chairs beside me.

I felt slightly envious of their itsy bitsy bikinis and more envious when they ordered deep-fried chicken fingers. It was too much to stand as I thought of my spinach salad and bottled water I had for lunch. If only I could eat like that...My cheeks turned green the envious sea monster began to lurk under my skin.

I looked over to Mr. MBA with his back to the sun, slowly beginning to snore, and burn in the sun. I took another sip of my passion punch. As another young beauty passed us glancing up and down first at Mr. MBA, then me with a guilty look.

You know the one where you realize you didn’t make the cheering squad.

She sauntered over to the models with her clipboard, “Would you like to be on our guest list at our club this evening?”

My neurotic brain went into overdrive - how come she didn’t ask me? Of course I never would have went! But it would have been nice to be asked…

It was at that moment my brain clicked to the scene from Knocked Up. It’s  when the doorman refuses to let the girls in the club and says “It’s not cause you’re not hot, I would love to tap that ass. I would tear that ass up. I can’t let you in cause you’re old as fuck. For this club, you know, not for the earth.”

Those three little words old as fuck passed through my head but in my mind Vegas is place of illusion, a mirage of beauty, and attempts to mask the ugly that is behind the glittery lights. I might be in my mid-thirties but I can still rock it!

Age is a state of mind and a symbol of beauty. Perhaps, I never will ever have my pre-baby body or perfect legs. But I still have my groove and I can do that in my kitchen any day of the week. No guest list required..

As I took another sip of my passion punch I looked over at Mr.MBA snoring in the sun, his fuzzy belly glistening with sweat, and his skin boiling to the point of lobster red. I thought to myself it couldn’t have possibly been me she passed-up. It must be the lovable company I keep and I wouldn’t trade that for any day of the week.

Have you ever had any poolside moments? Do you think the link between beauty and age will ever change in our society?

The Judgement of Beauty

On my usual morning routine of scanning the Globe and Mail I came across this article “It’s Booty Season: Be Ready to Be Judged.” In the article Micah Toub discusses the ideal beauty standards men have towards women. The picture of the perfect  booty in Daisy Duke shorts shone across the screen.

I mused over the article and the opening as he sat with his mentor who gawked at females sauntering by and judging them by their parts.  I wonder if the pages were turned, my friends and I were having coffee.  We assessed the man walking by and  my friend stated as matter of fact “I can’t look at him. His beer belly just turns me off.” Would this make headlines at The Globe and Mail?

In the article Micah Toub  points out that  men judge women as objects summed up by their different body parts which in turn allows men to view women as objects.  However, It’s natural for men to judge women just as it is natural for women to judge men.

Yes, it is a natural fact that the occasional Fabio walking in my direction may get an inappropriate wink and the odd glance. But it`s also a primary fact that everyday woman are bombarded by the media with the ideal  images of beauty. So, now we are just supposed to accept the fact that if our booty is not up to snuff that we will be judged based on this scientific evidence.

In the end Micha Toub covers his back by stating that beauty is the sum of all of your parts. Luckily, for me it just isn’t my leg or breast but it’s my whole entire body that will be judged. I believe beauty is in the eye of the beholder and  what lies beneath the skin.

It’s time to question the way we view beauty and if we are willing to attempt to live up to unrealistic standards of blonde bombshells and dark-haired vixens. Don’t you think we need to shift the title of the article from” prepared to be judged” to who gives a rats ass?  Quite Frankly if you don’t like what you see from behind – fuck ya!

Do you think men and women judge each other to harshly based on unrealistic beauty standards? Is media to blame for these unrealistic expectations?

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