I pictured this woman parking her white SUV at the local plastic surgeon which, weirdly enough, is placed in a strip mall-like situation next to the chinese place that has really good sechuan chicken.
She would sit there in the waiting room, possibly reading the latest SELF or Good Housekeeping magazine, or perhaps she would just be playing with her nails or looking at the bland carpeting and attempt to seem like she wasn’t waiting- or that she wasn’t really there for anything serious.
Perhaps she was there to just get a birthmark removed or maybe she was there for some tragic car crash thing that happened a few years ago and, although it wasn’t that great a deal, it did leave a cosmetically unappealing mark on her behind. It could be seen—ever so slightly—on a warm sunny day at the beach in the vacation coming up around August.
She wouldn’t be there for anything like that, however, which would seem a heck of a lot more modest than what she was really there for. She would be there for a breast augmentation—very slight, very slight. Just to improve just a bit. It would be very slight, very small. Just to keep things elevated and perky just a bit.
But could one just assume this about her from looking at her? Was it just to say this about someone who was sitting next to me at the nail salon just drying her nails under one of those machines that leaves us incredibly impatient? You can’t even look at a SELF magazine while you wait. I assumed this kind of thing, however, seated next to the woman with impeccable jewelry.
It wasn’t simply her jewelry, rather the impeccable combination of her beautiful gold (yet still modest) embellishments which adequately accompanied her royal blue cardigan sweater and white pants.
The cardigan was in fact a scene. She had breasts which, I assumed, were augmented. However slight, they were augmented. Along with the augmented breasts came a plethora of judgments which made me think of mindless conformity and a pathetic longing for celebrity-like status, rolling through the latest downtown-smalltown Ohio stripmall.
Of course the more “poor” end of the town would be informed of the Lexus and Louis Vuitton combination—what it signified. We would scoff. And yet we were the ones who would drive slowly by the bigger houses around Christmas time and see the high ceilings and (alleged) jacuzzis in the basement. We were the ones who would gawk in awe and wonder about the Mercedes symbol—what that signified.