What matters more: Pounds or £££s?

One thing that annoys me is when references are made to a person's appearance, and it is COMPLETELY off topic.

I was reading Forbes' list of 2008's biggest earners in hiphop and came across this entry:

"5. Timothy "Timbaland" Mosley ($22 million) : The portly producer has churned out hundreds of tracks for hip-hop's brightest stars, including all four above him on this list. ..." etc etc

Portly producer? What the-? Are we talking about an obsession with port? Because otherwise what on earth does his weight have to do with his money? These things just BAFFLE me. I have never given one brain cell of thought towards Timbaland's poundage--why is a random Forbes reporter so interested?

If he was a woman Timbaland would probably read that description and run to the bookstore for a copy of Skinny Bitch in the Kitch. As a boy, his thoughts were more likely: "Kanye's #4! Fuck this shit."

"Doncha wish your boyfriend was rich like me... heh heh... kiss my ass Forbes."

The tresses that bind us

India Arie isn’t a big star, but I think she’s a great artist and she’s written a couple great songs on the “you’re more than your appearance” theme. “Video” was her first hit, but she made another song called “I Am Not My Hair” which in girl-land is a Wiiild and Crrrazy Thing to Say!

"I am not my hair.
I am not this skin.
I am the soul that lives within."

Chopping my hair short, getting a bad haircut, etc. has never traumatized me because I apparently *got* this message early in life. But I've seen plenty of women agonize over their tresses. (The funniest time was when a coworker got streaks done at the hair salon in Zellers, and told us all when she returned: "I look like a Zeddy whore!")

The original version I first was a duet with P!nk, but I just found a remix with Akon--whom she did not wish to collaborate with (no kidding, the guy's a dufus) but her label insisted. It’s grounded with some piano and strings and I do like it better. However I do miss the dialogue from the P!nk version.

India: OMG is that P!nk? Why is her hair brown?
P!nk: (deadpan) She must call herself Brown now.

I also miss the line: “People change no matter what you do. Don’t you wish that people did too?”

But the important ending is there, which is in praise of Melissa Etheridge for rocking it out bald-style at the Grammies after her chemo.

My épée is bigger than yours

I am the farthest thing from athletic, and don’t care to watch sports. But I like to think there are some little gals out there who are inspired by watching women athletes, and will aspire to be athletes themselves.

I watch America’s Best Dance Crew, and while I like Shane Sparks, he can never shut up about The Girls Looking Sexy! Oh You Looked Sexy! It’s Nice to See You Looking Like Women For Once!

Down boy, down. It’s refreshing to listen to Olympic commentary, where the discussion is about technique and skill and personal stories of Overcoming Obstacles, rather than Appearance.

Speaking of skill, my husband just came to tell me about the 50 year old Chinese-Canadian fencer who just won her first match—against a 20 year old. Ya baby.

Torture for the Ladies

Friday night was the midnight release of the new Stephanie Meyer vampire love book, Breaking Dawn. My bookstore held a Harry Potter-like evening, with different events leading up to the sale of the book, and customers were encouraged to dress up--after having just complained about the lack of dress-up occasions, this was a welcome bit of fun. People came in their prom dresses, or bridesmaid dresses, or cocktail attire. There were masks and trains and pouffs and feather boas and killer heels everywhere.

There were also discarded heels everywhere--I saw a pair of shoes tucked away under the bargain books, and it didn't take long for the first employee to show up at the office needing bandaids. The next day one of the managers had a huge bandaid over her heel.

Hey--I'm not saying I don't Suffer for Beauty too. I didn't have posh wear but I was determined to at least wear a skirt, which in this insanely humid weather means chaffed thighs (one of the perils of weight gain--doh!) And I donned a HUGE pair of earrings which I knew would hurt a bit by the end of the night.

But wear high heeled shoes for a 9 hour shift? You've GOT to be kidding. If I owned one of those urban-myth-comfortable-heels you hear about on What Not to Wear, then maybe... though whether those mythic shoes last through 9 hours of customer service, I don't know. Anyway I don't own any, and neither did the rest of the ladies who, one by one, exchanged their heels for flat sandals. I know one Bright Bride who thought ahead and bought white Doc Martens to change into after the ceremony.

I wore my cute flat boots with the running shoe soles. Ha! Female Suffering For Beauty can only get so far with me. I'm sure men accidentally buy the occasional pair of uncomfortable shoes, but I doubt they seek out that same type for future purchases. Whereas women buy shoes that they KNOW will be uncomfortable after an hour or two.

Honestly... there's some insanity here.