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Dear Aunt K:
I was hanging out with my boyfriend the other day and while I was trying to decide what to wear he picked up a magazine and started flicking through it. There was a photograph of this absolutely gorgeous model clinging to a giant bottle of perfume. My boyfriend looked from the model to me and this is what he said: WHY DON'T YOU LOOK LIKE THAT? I was that shocked I didn't say anything, I just laughed like I thought he was joking (which he wasn't). What should I do?
Gobsmacked
Dear Gobsmacked:
Are you suggesting that this boy said something like that to you and he's still alive? Or, worse yet, that's he's not only alive but still on speaking terms with you? If those two things are true, then what I suggest you do is inform him that if you did look like that you certainly wouldn't be going out with him and dump him immediately.
Dear Aunt Know-It-All:
I recently saw that old film Moonstruck! on the telly. You know - the one where this frumpy old maid meets this really cute bloke and she has this makeover and buys this sexy dress and he falls madly in love with her? I found it INSPIRING. So I used all my savings and had myself made over. I had my legs and my eyebrows waxed. I had my hair dyed and permed. I had my teeth bleached and I got green contacts. But it didn't work! The only person who even seemed to notice was my English teacher. She wanted to know if my hair had always been that colour or not. Do you think I should sue the beautician?
Thunderstruck!
Dear Thunderstruck!
Are you completely certain that you were struck by thunder and not lightening? I mean, what did you think was going to happen with this make over? It may have escaped your notice, but Moonstruck! is a Hollywood film, not a documentary. In Hollywood films all a girl has to do is take off her glasses and instead of walking into the first wall she comes to (as would happen in Real Life) she's instantly transformed into a five-star beauty. Hollywood films (unlike Real Life) don't like unhappy endings. And this may have escaped your notice too, but the actor playing the frumpy old maid was CHER - not Hilda the Troglodyte. Having her hair permed and the grey covered didn't make her beautiful - thousands of pounds worth of plastic surgery had already done that! So you can't sue the beautician. You might as well sue God. What you should probably do is seek professional help since, unless you're actually born again, no matter how many makeovers you have you're not going to look like Cher.
Dear Aunt Know-It-All:
I've had my nose shortened, my ears flattened, and my thighs reduced but my mother won't let me have my breasts enlarged till I'm eighteen - which is years away! What am I meant to do? Spend the best years of my life indoors?
Imperfect
Dear Imperfect:
When the women sit round the kitchen table in my house they're as likely to start chatting about things like breast implant HORROR STORIES as they are about what's wrong with men (quite a lot, to hear them tell it!). I've heard some pretty gruesome tales while waiting for the kettle to boil (including the one about the woman who was killed falling into a street excavation because her breasts were so ginormous that she couldn't see her feet!). So my recommendation is to proceed with caution on this one - especially since in a few months fashion may change (It always does change - remember hip-huggers? Remember that day and a half when flares were back in?). When it does you might find that breasts the size of fairy cakes are IN, and then what are you going to do? Have them deflated? But this doesn't mean that you have to stay indoors until fashion does change. According to my grandmother (who VIVIDLY remembers World War II even if she can't remember what you told her five minutes ago) in olden times before Science was able to correct God's oversights, a girl would stuff tissues in her bra to make herself look bigger. This wasn't foolproof of course. My nan once lost a breast while jitterbugging with an airman. (She says it wasn't half as embarrassing as having the stockings she'd painted on her legs run in the rain, but since she's the mother of my father not a lot really does embarrass her.) As far as I can see the tissues down the front could be a good thing. First of all, it's a cheap, painless and totally reversible way of getting bigger boobs without any side effects (unless you count one of them dropping at your feet). And, second of all, it acts as an equally cheap and efficient means of birth control since no one's likely to get too carried away if you won't let him take his hands out of his pockets to touch your breasts! The only real drawback I can see is that it is SEASONAL. What would work under a woolly jumper isn't going to do you much good under a bikini. Of course, you could always move to a colder climate - or develop an allergy to water and sand.
Dear Aunt Know-It-All:
My hair's too curly, my eyes are too small, my lips are too thin, and my earlobes look like I've had them stretched. I'm a Christian Scientist so there's no question of having anything done about most of this. (I did try ironing my hair straight but all that happened was I burnt a hole in the kitchen table.) Should I just resign myself to a lonely life where the closest I get to a bloke is in the tube?
I Know God Loves Me but I Wish He'd Loved Me Just a Bit More
Dear Just a Bit More:
I'll tell you one thing about being an Agony Aunt- it has DEFINITELY Opened My Eyes to a few things. And one of the biggest things of them is that there's a major difference between Real Life and Media Life. Media Life is anything you see in a movie, advert or on telly, and Real Life is what you see when you look around. In Media Life the women are almost always thin and at least tres attractive if not actually astonishingly beautiful, have incredible clothes, great figures, perfect hair and teeth, can wear white when they've got their period without blood seeping through their trousers and can eat five thousand calories in a sitting without putting on an ounce of weight. But in Real Life women aren't anything like that. They're just regular people whose only relationship with perfection is that it's something they'll never achieve. They have bad hair days and can't glance at a piece of chocolate cake without putting on a stone. Their skin is flawed, their teeth are crooked, their thighs are like tree trunks, they could break down a door with their hips, they dress like they ordered their clothes from an old catalogue in a language they don't understand and they swell up and get v grumpy when it's that time of the month. And you know what? A lot of them have husbands or boyfriends (and some even have both!!!). Look at your mother. Look at your aunts and cousins. Look at your teachers. Look at your neighbours. Look at the Royal Family. Cast an eye over the women you encounter in shops or pass on the street. Question: How many of them look like Parminder Nagra or Beyonce? Answer: NOT MANY. This doesn't mean I was wrong before when I said that Men can see better than they can think - but they're not TOTALLY DAFT, are they? Not many of them look like Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom either. They know that the only way they'll meet Kirsten Dunst is if she hires them to scrape chewing gum off her shoes. SO TAKE HEART. Chances are that not only won't you spend your entire life ALL BY YOURSELF, you won't spend it with anyone who's going to leave you for a model either!
[to be continued!!!]
(Note to You: For those of you trying to find my old Diary it is here... )
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Sunday 1st July 2007