Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Suddenly Michael Jackson doesn't seem so weird, after all.

I was reading an article about the family who took out the thirty-six million Big Wedneday win in last Saturday's paper. The article was asking whether having a cookie jar stuffed with unlimited supply of cash would buy happiness, or not.

It went on to talk about Paradise Syndrome - a new(unofficial) disorder that befalls those poor feckers who have everything - except happiness (Desperate Housewives - oh but, that's right, they're not real). The article goes on to say that Paradise Syndrome may explain the obsession for cosmetic surgery. And this is the part that really got me.

I quote:

'In the United States some commentators are labelling the booming cosmetic surgery a national epidemic. Driven by economic greed and insecure clients it has become the wild frontier of human excess.

In her tell-all tome Beauty Junkies:Inside Our $15 Billion Obsession With Cosmetic Surgery, Alex Kuczynski, herself a 10-year nip-and-tuck junkie, lifts the skin-fold on the mad quest for perfect.

Her account of the compulsive activities of one Hollywood housewife fleshes out the scale of the obsession. The woman's routine entailed two trips to the hairdresser each week, a once-a-week facial and full-body waxing, regular tanning sessions, manicures plus teeth cleaning (what? you can't do it yourself ?)and whitening. Body and face were caked in expensive creams made from caviar, 24-carat gold, human growth hormone or wild yam extract.

Tennis, pilates and a personal trainer kept her body toned. She average three sessions a year under the plastic surgeon's knife as well as injections with Gore-Tex (I thought you wore that to keep the rain out?) Botox and Artecoll. She has had liposuction and a series of breast augmentations.

She is, says Kuczynski, considered pretty normal amongst her peers.'

Even with an unlimited supply of cash I could only be arsed to doing ten percent of that woman's routine. And all laziness aside, I wouldn't want to do most of that stuff to my body and it sure-as-shit wouldn't make me happy.

Call me a hillbilly, but in my world it's just more evidence to prove the theory that the higher we evolve, the more stupid we seem to become.

9 comments:

Meadow said...

How does she even have the time?! And I would be soooo bored...

laughykate said...

And, call me crazy but doesn't plastic surgery hurt?

Fat Sparrow said...

Dude, with that kind of money, she could have smoked a lot of weed. And probably been a lot happier.

Just saying.

I really hate it when people go on about "Money can't buy happiness," though. If you think that money can't buy happiness, you don't know where to shop. And you have obviously never had to worry about being homeless, living below the poverty level, or spent time negotiating with the electric company for yet another extension on your overdue bill.

Does anyone go on about how unhappy Bill Gates or Warren Buffett or Richard Branson are? Of course not, because they're not unahppy; they have money. Grrrrr....

laughykate said...

Oh yeah, that saying should be changed to 'Money can't buy you happiness but it can make you not fret about the bills.'

And there should be another one, 'Money makes some people fucked in the biscuit.'

Fat Sparrow said...

Oh, and even worse is "Money can't buy you love."

Uh, last time I checked on Craigslist, yeah, it could.

laughykate said...

Course it can, it worked in Pretty Woman.

Holemaster said...

Maybe money can't buy you happiness but I'm willing to try.

whoopsadaisy said...

I was really scared that you were going to have a picture of this woman at the end of the post & she was going to be a horror, lol.
Honestly, how can anyone's body cope with that amount of artificial interference? It sounds like that is ALL she does, she surely hasn't much time for anything else!

Scary biscuits.

Niamh.

laughykate said...

Holemaster, but would you go to the cutter person to seek your happiness ?

Whoopsadaisy, you were afraid I was about to post another picture of donatella, weren't you?!