Category: Fourre-tout

Unlike our four legged companions, humans are never satisfied with what they have. They always fancy what others have because as everybody knows, the grass is always greener somewhere else.

This phenomenon might have something to do with the rat race, the endless often-futile pursuit of success.
In order to succeed people try to break out of the pack, and they want to achieve this by going for a different look

For instance, some men try to look like women while some women attempt to emulate men.

Since time immemorial, women have been wearing earrings. Not too long ago no man (except Hollywood pirates) would have been caught dead wearing jewelry in their ears. Now Wall-Streeters and construction workers flaunt their gold rings.

What about tattoos?
When I was a kid, only sailors or ex-cons would sport tattoos. Nobody else (especially not women) would dare to arbor those stigmatizing emblems.
But today, like hardened Yakuza, women plaster their bodies with tattoos.
Sorry ladies, this is not attractive. Definitely too Charles Mansonish for me.

For a long time also, long hair was the sole appanage of women. Then the Fab Four burst on the scene and men felt obliged to grow a mane.
Some women fought back by shaving their heads.

Historically, soldiers have always been men. They often went to war reluctantly and many died or were gravely wounded in the process.
Women now are clamoring for the right to get killed. Are they mad?
Wars are nasty, bloody affairs that many men tried to avoid.
Why would any woman in her right mind fight for the dubious privilege of getting shot or maimed?
In their fight for parity women are sometimes strangely irrational.

Then there is the bodybuilding business. Men look ridiculous enough with muscles bulging all over, but what about women indulging in the same delirious business?
I have seen pictures of some of them and they are scarier than Freddy Krueger.

I have the feeling that many people dream to be hermaphrodite. To have it both ways.
But then I don’t believe that they would be satisfied with their look either.
They would probably search for aliens for fresh ideas.

Me? I don’t need stinking earrings, tattoos or piercings to feel good.
I am satisfied with my (enormous) inner beauty.
The rest is irrelevant.

Alain

PS: Almost all absurdity of conduct arises from the imitation of those who we cannot resemble. Samuel Johnson

Boring music but nice pictures. View “Full Screen” for better effect:

I did it!
Today I added another checkmark to my “f*ckit” list.
You know, that mythical checklist where you write down the 10000 (?) things that you want to do before you die.

I also discovered that it is women’s closely guarded secret. I believe that in their youth they took a blood oath to never talk about this subject in front of men.
And as far as I know, no man seems to be aware how deliciously relaxing it is to have you feet pampered and pleasured.
Or maybe they know about it but find it too “unmanly”.

Big mistake my fellow jocks. Huge mistake.

There were about 8-10 customers (all women) in the salon when I came in.
At first, I felt a little self-conscious being stared at, but the feeling quickly subsided after my feet were soaked in a small whirlpool tub and massaged by rotating jets.

It was upon my wife’s urging that I decided to treat myself and leave the tedious job of toenails trimming to somebody else.
My somebody else turned out to be a small Asian woman. As a matter of fact, all the 7 employees of the salon were Asian. Vietnamese I believe.

Very few words were exchanged between my pedicurist and myself during that session. I am still wondering if the woman taking care of my piggly wigglys even spoke English.
So we didn’t speak. She just pulled and pushed my feet up and down or laterally whenever needed.

But speaking she did. In a very low monotonous voice. First I thought that she was praying but I then discovered that she was talking to the pedicurist working next to us.
What were they talking about? My sexy virginal feet? Mystère et boule de gomme!

My only quibble about this séance was that it lacked a little bit of warmth. It was a little bit too impersonal.
Had it been a French woman doing the job, we would have flirted and talked about “la pluie et le beau temps”
But Asian women don’t banter. It is not in their genes.

Otherwise, I cannot find fault with anything. I refused the pink toe nail polish even though it was not specifically offered to me.
I am willing to take some liberties with my masculinity, but I am not (yet – Hello Caitlyn) willing to go that far.

Enjoying my newly buffed toes.

Alain