Small Town News

Lets face it, we all want to look good for those office parties

---

AROUND TOWN

All the wind, rain and nasty weather have taken their toll recently. I'm not referring to the beaches and the sand dunes; no, mere is stimulus money for that, but rather I'm referring to our physical bodies. The topography of the Atlantic region can be replenished. Unfortunately, the topography of my body has long disappeared, so that I now resemble something that would be held by strings in the Macy's Thanksgiving parade.

Let's face it, we all want to look good for those office parties, where you blacked out sometime before you told your boss he looked like a pinhead. And let's not forget those family gatherings where the free-for-all over a remark about bad hot dogs ends up at the trailer park welcoming center. And lastly, you always want to look sharp at those friendly cocktail parties where you go into a complete paranoid funk when they run out of those pigs in a blanket on purpose.

Unfortunately, my body, if it was a car and I traded it in right this moment, wouldn't even qualify to get the Blue Book value. In fact, I would have to pay the equivalent of a CEO of a failed company's Christmas bonus just to get someone to haul myself to the junkyard.

Now people are sympathetic about failing bodies, especially the large department stores that have been stocking every kind of rejuvenation product for your skin.

Fortunately, you don't even have to search for the section to find these items; they are strategically placed as soon as you waddle in me front door. I should warn you, though, the salesclerks may seem a little dazed, since they have been listening to Christmas music nonstop since the Fourth of July. The singing chipmunks have sent many personnel cowering to their knees behind the counter and calling for mama.

Now, I'm especially vulnerable around this time of year. My skin, at this point, is so reptilian, you could do major surgery without the benefit of anesthesia and I wouldn't feel a thing. In fact, I suspect I've had a hip replacement recently and no one told me about it. It feels good though.

I also have layers of turtle-like epidermis, built up from years of using baby oil as a sunblock and then sitting in front of a piece of aluminum reflective flashing. Mr. Sun was our friend back then We worshipped him. And now he has abandoned us faster than a politician who has just been told he is in charge of the intern program.

They say to offset some of effects that make your skin the color of a sallow, mustard-yellow squash, you should dress in bright colors, especially at the holidays. This is a little like the theory a good criminal defense attorney employs. If the evidence against your client is so overwhelming, then distract the jury by blaming the police, especially the chalk outline guy.

Now red is very in this year for your festive get-together. It's supposed to lift your spirits also. You know, Santa wears red, the berries on the hollies are red, and of course by the time you finish your shopping, you will be just like the current government, in the red. I've tried this out, only to look like a screen saver - the one that had those flying red toasters.

So, I decided to go back to the basics, especially when it came to my skin. I returned to the department store and disabled the Christmas music. Hundreds of salesclerks poured out of the back rooms where they had been hiding for days.

"This amazing product can erase anything," the saleswoman told me. "It will take years off your life, erase any wrinkles, annul your marriage, has the DNA of Christie Brinkley and is from a rare piece of bark from Brazilian trees. It's only $200 an ounce on sale."

It's pretty expensive, I mused. I hesitated, about to walk away. "And did I mention, it smells and tastes like chocolate cake," she added. "I'll take it!!!" You have to look good for the holidays.





© 2010 Cape Gazette Lewes, Delaware. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from DAS.

More from Cape Gazette