Bottom cosmetic surgery is a bum steer.
It’s time to talk about the bottom line. No, not the financial one. The cheeky one. The one you’re sitting on.
When I was growing up, skinniness was inniness. We girls lived on a daily diet of one low-fat celery frond in order to keep our bottoms perfectly pert. Our obsessive avoidance of a bulging base meant we wouldn’t even cook with thick-bottomed saucepan.
But now, after all that enforced starvation, big bottoms are in vogue. A full derriere is now de rigueur. Yep, all that tortuous dieting was all for nothing – which was pretty much all we ate from the 70’s on.
Today’s pin-ups are of a much peachier persuasion. Kim Kardashian, Jennifer Lopez, Beyoncé, Nicki Minaj and curvaceous co personify the current fashionable look for females. Many of my girlfriends are now swapping their organ-squishing spanx for padded pants to give them a more rounded, juicy look. It’s like a wonder-bra for bums. But some are taking the fad too far.
A young woman in my gym class has just undergone buttock implant surgery. She vanished from Zumba for a for a few months, then re-appeared with an inbuilt bustle. She stands in front of me in class, which is really quite handy as I now had a ledge on which to place my water bottle.
In the change rooms afterwards, classmates gathered around for a fuller inspection. The operation is called the “Brazilian butt lift” or the “Kim Kardashian” she told us. The procedure, carried out under general anaesthetic, took about 2 hours. As we ogled her gravity-defying rear end, she explained how the fat was removed from her upper thighs using liposuction, then injected into her buttocks to create this much fuller effect.
But you’d have to be loco to use lippo on your thighs. If the medical hoover gets turned on too high, your vagina could become askew, and no woman wants to be referred to as a “little bit on the side.”
As classmates prodded at her fleshy cushions, many voiced a longing for their very own ‘rear of the year.’ At this juncture, I thought it might be time to point out that bottom implants have the highest death rate of all cosmetic surgery. An estimated one in 3,000 operations ends in tragedy. Fat injected into large veins can travel to the heart or the brain, resulting in death. Despite the risk, women desperate to emulate the Kardashian silhouette still queue for the scalpel. Oh well, at least they’ll have lovely curvy corpses as they lie in their coffins.
Even if the procedure doesn’t kill you, complications arising from buttock surgery are also horrendous – bacterial infections, scarring, dead tissue, wound ruptures, abscesses… Having signed your surgery consent forms, when strangers point and laugh, all you’ll be able to do is ‘turn the other cheek’ – what you have left of it.
But apparently my bottom is not all I have to worry about. Apparently, I need fillers for my clinkles (cleavage wrinkles) and injections for my kinkles (knee wrinkles). I need to get my hands lasered to remove age-betraying spots. I must to do something about my earlobes too, evidentially, which are sagging. Not to forget my ‘bingo wings” which also need to be replumed and re-invigorated with surgery….
As my classmates catalogued my flaws, it struck me that maybe it’s not women, but society which needs the make-over? A new survey by Plan International reveals that eighty nine percent of girls feel pressure to fit an ‘ideal’ face and body type and twenty five percent feel ‘ashamed or disgusted’ by their body.
Surely the only way to cure this facial prejudice + shapism is to emphasise the importance of interior, rather than exterior decorating; to focus on the brain rather than the brawn. Surely, everyone would be more beautiful if they read a book now and then.
So, let’s ban cosmetic surgery that can kill, starting with the Brazilian butt lift. If you really want a firm derriere, try squats, cycling… or possibly crushing a toy boy between your thighs on a nightly basis. In truth, there’s only one vital quality for a backside – that you never, ever talk out of it. Something the cosmetic industry is yet to master.
And if you want to raise your spirits, then do come along and have a few laughs at my little Girls’ Night Out show, in Sydney on November 1st and Melbourne on the 4th.
See you there for some fun and frivolity!
Date: Friday, 1 November 2019 @ 8:00pm
Venue: Seymour Centre
Tickets: Click here or call Seymour Centre Box Office 9351 7940
Date: Monday, 4 November 2019 @ 8:00pm
Venue: Athenaeum Theatre
Tickets: Click here or call Ticketek 132 849
Tickets and more information here.
What do women really want in bed? Breakfast. Oh, and a good book. If you’re looking for a funny, frivolous yet feisty new read, do slip between my covers. Satisfaction guaranteed.
Here’s a selection of scribblings in which I peel down to my emotional underwear – a psychological striptease that occasionally reveals all.
I think women are each other’s human Wonderbras – uplifting, supportive and making each other look bigger and better.
If he wants breakfast, tell him to sleep in the kitchen.
Men think monogamy is something you make dining tables out of.
Many marriages break up for religious reasons – he thinks he’s a god and she doesn’t.
Love prepares you for marriage the way needlepoint prepares you for round-the-world solo yachting.
Boys will be boys, and so will a load of middle-aged boys who should know better.
Ladies who lynch.
No wife ever shot a husband while he was vacuuming.
I think therefore I’m divorced.
All husbands think they’re Gods. If only their wives weren’t atheists.
Happy wife = happy life.
I couldn’t ask for a better husband… as much as I’d bloody well like to.
Statistically, 100% of divorces begin with marriage.
Marriage is nature’s way of promoting masturbation.
Marriage is a fun-packed, frivolous activity – only occasionally resulting in death.
It’ll be an amicable split. You’ll both get 50 % of the acrimony.
A new invention is required. The monogamous husband. Patent Pending.
How Do I Hate Thee? Let me Count the Ways.
My wedding vows didn’t say To Love, Hoover and Obey.
I’m Having my period so can therefore legally kill you.
You are going to enjoy this marriage, even if I have to divorce you to do so.
A happy marriage is like an orgasm – many of them are faked.
All this emphasis on women faking orgasms, but what about men faking foreplay?
Why do men like intelligent women? Because opposites attract.
Why don’t women tell jokes? Because we marry them.
What does a woman really want in bed? Breakfast.
For women, life is full of lies – I mean doctors maintain that wrinkles don’t hurt.
Legal aid cuts prove that the Tories believe a person is innocent until proven destitute.
Sexist men are so stupid it makes you want to take the ‘men’ out of Mensa.
If a man ever tells you that women fall at his feet – it’s only because he gets them drunk first.
A woman must always fight back. Never just lie back and think of Canberra.
The best cure for menopause is the toy boy diet. A case of having Your Beefcake and Eating It Too.
I don’t fake orgasms. I’m faking being six foot one and seven stone.
Trophy wives tarnish quickly and then get left on the shelf.
Lawyers work 24/7. The partners of lawyers suffer from a bad case of subpoena envy.
Most shrinks should book an appointment with themselves.
The question on the minds of most women is – why doesn’t chocolate go straight to your boobs?
Don’t fall for a man’s puppy dog look… Just get him wormed.
It’s been so long since a man has touched me, not even medical science will want my body.