Spare cash? Buy yourself new boobs!
I went to the gym one sunny morning recently. The word ‘sunny’ is a bit of a joke, since it is always sunny in Doha. (It was also a bit of a joke back in the UK but, obviously, for a completely opposite reason).
As I stood there, barely moving on a cross trainer, I noticed a stunning girl on a treadmill next to me. I quickly guessed she must have been Lebanese. Having spent a few months in our compound taught me to tell a Lebanese woman from others. The main attribute they all seemed to have, (and I still am to learn whether it is all the Lebanese women in Doha, or only the ones in our compound), is that they are all gorgeous. But, the problem with our (compound) lot is that they are all absolutely, utterly and unrealistically identical.
‘I think I know which one she is’, I thought to myself, smiling at her. She smiled back. She had luscious long hair, which she clipped up in a casual, yet sexy bun, and impossibly narrow waist (where do the internal organs go?), and big sensual lips. We said hello and exchanged a few general gym-related comments. I asked, trying to be sociable, whether it was her I had seen the previous weekend celebrating her son’s birthday at the pool.
‘Oh, no, it was not me’, she laughed. ‘But I can see why you would think it was’. And she gestured to the two ginormous watermelons proudly bouncing in front of her slim statuesque body.
And I thought to myself ‘my goodness, she is right! That is just what they all have in common here, all five of them!’ (Of course, I can only suspect there are five of them, because I have never seen them all together; and since they are clones, it is difficult to be sure just how many there are.)
Absolutely every single one of our Lebanese beauties has very large, very round, very fake boobs. And I have a strong suspicion about those big lips, too.
Back in Azerbaijan, you can always spot the wealthy women. It is not just the expensive cars and handbags anymore. These days they all look like our first lady. And it has to be said, to be fair, that she is very pretty. I am not sure how artificially enhanced she is, and I’d better not go there for political dictatorship reasons…. But all the girls who are in the certain league back home suddenly look very similar to her. The same lips, the same hair, the same make-up. It makes me wonder whether the world of rich women has moved on from Mulberry handbags and Tiffany rings on to their body parts as symbols of wealth. And the obsession seems to be cross-cultural. And, once I paid attention to the boobs, they were everywhere I looked. On Facebook, almost every week I noticed yet another old friend proudly sporting a new pair.
Not only do boobs happen all around me, they also are no longer something personal. Sitting in the local Starbucks, my friend and I were discussing the obsession with boobs, and she nodded happily. ‘I am gonna get some, too, when I go back to the States. You should only get them in California, those are the best!’ I giggled, thinking she was messing about, but she was dead serious. ‘Wow!’, I thought. ‘What’s going on?’
What happened to the ‘more than a handful is wasted’ wisdom that my husband lovingly shared with me years ago? Was he just being kind?
But, forget whether they look good or not. I have a strong suspicion these days that it is no longer about looking sexy, or attractive; or to boost confidence of some flat-chested young girls suffering from self-image issues…It is becoming an attribute of wealth. Have money? Buy yourself some boobs! Otherwise, your friends might think you are not rich enough. And who cares if, as a result, you all look the same.
That morning, having had a long chat with my Lebanese gym buddy, I went home, showered, picked up my kids and went to the pool. And there she was, sunbathing in a tiny bikini, showing off those perfect curves. I stopped by. ‘I see you also decided to come for a relaxing swim after that grueling workout, didn’t you?’ I said to her, only to be met by a very confused look. Oh, dear. I got it wrong again.
As I stood there, barely moving on a cross trainer, I noticed a stunning girl on a treadmill next to me. I quickly guessed she must have been Lebanese. Having spent a few months in our compound taught me to tell a Lebanese woman from others. The main attribute they all seemed to have, (and I still am to learn whether it is all the Lebanese women in Doha, or only the ones in our compound), is that they are all gorgeous. But, the problem with our (compound) lot is that they are all absolutely, utterly and unrealistically identical.
‘I think I know which one she is’, I thought to myself, smiling at her. She smiled back. She had luscious long hair, which she clipped up in a casual, yet sexy bun, and impossibly narrow waist (where do the internal organs go?), and big sensual lips. We said hello and exchanged a few general gym-related comments. I asked, trying to be sociable, whether it was her I had seen the previous weekend celebrating her son’s birthday at the pool.
‘Oh, no, it was not me’, she laughed. ‘But I can see why you would think it was’. And she gestured to the two ginormous watermelons proudly bouncing in front of her slim statuesque body.
And I thought to myself ‘my goodness, she is right! That is just what they all have in common here, all five of them!’ (Of course, I can only suspect there are five of them, because I have never seen them all together; and since they are clones, it is difficult to be sure just how many there are.)
Absolutely every single one of our Lebanese beauties has very large, very round, very fake boobs. And I have a strong suspicion about those big lips, too.
Back in Azerbaijan, you can always spot the wealthy women. It is not just the expensive cars and handbags anymore. These days they all look like our first lady. And it has to be said, to be fair, that she is very pretty. I am not sure how artificially enhanced she is, and I’d better not go there for political dictatorship reasons…. But all the girls who are in the certain league back home suddenly look very similar to her. The same lips, the same hair, the same make-up. It makes me wonder whether the world of rich women has moved on from Mulberry handbags and Tiffany rings on to their body parts as symbols of wealth. And the obsession seems to be cross-cultural. And, once I paid attention to the boobs, they were everywhere I looked. On Facebook, almost every week I noticed yet another old friend proudly sporting a new pair.
Not only do boobs happen all around me, they also are no longer something personal. Sitting in the local Starbucks, my friend and I were discussing the obsession with boobs, and she nodded happily. ‘I am gonna get some, too, when I go back to the States. You should only get them in California, those are the best!’ I giggled, thinking she was messing about, but she was dead serious. ‘Wow!’, I thought. ‘What’s going on?’
What happened to the ‘more than a handful is wasted’ wisdom that my husband lovingly shared with me years ago? Was he just being kind?
But, forget whether they look good or not. I have a strong suspicion these days that it is no longer about looking sexy, or attractive; or to boost confidence of some flat-chested young girls suffering from self-image issues…It is becoming an attribute of wealth. Have money? Buy yourself some boobs! Otherwise, your friends might think you are not rich enough. And who cares if, as a result, you all look the same.
That morning, having had a long chat with my Lebanese gym buddy, I went home, showered, picked up my kids and went to the pool. And there she was, sunbathing in a tiny bikini, showing off those perfect curves. I stopped by. ‘I see you also decided to come for a relaxing swim after that grueling workout, didn’t you?’ I said to her, only to be met by a very confused look. Oh, dear. I got it wrong again.
great writing ! :)
ReplyDeleteand .. yes, I was in AZ, there are many "aliyeva's" there.
in turkey they look like emine erdogan.
something really strange is going on ...
scary ...
Ha, ha. Scaryazeri, you make me chuckle. Your tweet, that this blog post was rejected elsewhere for possibly being seen as potentially judgemental was what brought me here. It becomes difficult to report on what you see around you if you can't. Period.
ReplyDeleteFirst thing I noted: You smiled at the Lebanese beauty. And that while I thought "your People" wasn't of the smiling kind. Judgemental, what?
Not if you recall the discussion on the Expat Harem blog about smiling and how it's interpreted in different cultures.
Again, you make me smile.
You made me think of Peruvian girls, all wanting to have long straight hair. No matter how much torture their hair should endure, they MUST have straight hair. And they think everybody HAS to have straight hair too. My hair has some shy curls, which I adore, and I'm getting tired of the recommendation: you should have your hair straightened.
ReplyDeleteNo thank you, I don't want to look like a clon of everybody else.
That said, I won't mention a word about noses, nor boobs, nor chins, no anything else.
Hello Mrs.Gabriela
DeleteOh,i tought most of Peruvian girls had natural straight hair like most of south americans who are not Brazilians.
Me,i wish i had straight hair,less trouble to comb it!
Thank you, Scary! I laughed my head off!!!
ReplyDelete:)))
Dear Scary Azeri, I do not know who you are, but I am absolutely in love with your blog! (though I was only reading it for the past 5 minutes) Story about the boobs is hilarious! So true, especially the part about girls back in Azerbaijan all looking the same!
ReplyDeleteI hope I could meet you one day in person, but so far starting today you have +1 fan of your blog!
Good luck with everything, please do not stop the writing! :)
This is so true, with wealthy women plastic surgery is like shopping. They might go for a boob job but come back with their lips done and tummy tucked. No reasoning required. Don't know if I should call them daring or just stupid.
ReplyDeleteMy mom told me once "today girls look so similar it's hard to tell them apart" Maybe this is the new thing, that there is one idea of perfect beauty and everyone must aim for it. And in the end they all come out looking as if they were made in a factory.
They all look like Thunderbird puppets. Boob jobs and other tweaks are the sign of new money and absent taste.
ReplyDelete"More than a handful is wasted" still stands true. I heard the same from my husband. Either way, I would never waste money to get a larger cup size. How stupid is that...
ReplyDeleteI need to add here, or should have explained before i even started...that i wrote this piece for a women's website. They had liked my style in something i sent before, and asked for an original piece. I thout this one was good, but they worried it would be considered as judgemental by their readers. Which is a shame, as it is difficult to create any discussion or get any reaction if we stay away from any strong opinions or jokes about anyone! Life of writing would suck then, ig time.
ReplyDeleteTypos are due to ipad being useless!
ReplyDelete'More than a handful is a waste' is one of the few diplomatic things men have in their arsenal to mollify women with small boobs and low self-esteem. In practice, for the statement to apply, it depends on how big your hands are and whether or not you're allowed to touch the particular boobs in question.
ReplyDeleteI expect that as much variety as there is in the size/shape of a woman's body, there is someone that appreciates it too, but ultimately, I would hope that while nobody crossed the dancefloor on the chance of a good personality underneath a perceived, mediocre physical appearance, that it is the attractiveness of the personality that allows a relationship to endure beyond the immediate physical attraction.