The Wait

Due to the fact that I neglected to tuck my current waiting room paperback into my purse before leaving the house yesterday, I was forced to tune out television's ubiquitous Katie Couric speculating over a period of three hours on just what motivated and by whom and how the deadly terrorist explosions in Boston took place on Monday by perusing Redbook and People magazines. With no new information, mind you, even when she consulted other reporters, witnesses, survivors, and experts. Trust me, the pedestrian publications were a relief, even though Katie appeared earnest as well as empathetic as she ground her high heels into the carpeting in the long side view shots. I learned a few things. But not about the Boston bombing. From the magazines. Though it's still unclear to me if your average person is actually interested in this stuff or if it's just what the editors choose to think we're interested in. Or possibly what we should think we ought to purchase. In no particular order then, this information is what I gleaned.

*Women must wear lipstick. At all times. But it really has to be in one of the new spring shades, not the one you currently own. Even, it seems, if you love the color of the one you already own and it is flattering on you. Speaking as a woman who owns one lipstick, purchased over ten years ago specifically for the fact that I was going to have photos taken, and doesn't regularly wear the stuff, I protest. Lipstick tastes bad. Its preference seems to be to end up on your teeth, clothing, drinking vessel of choice and other people rather than stay put on your lips. Lipstick must also be reapplied throughout the day. This level of maintenance is beyond what I care to engage in. 

*The celebrity and royalty versions of the baby bump, and how they are on display or how the mother-to-be discretely attempts to disguise it while in public. Which makes me think of my great-aunt Margaret, who successfully managed to not leave the house once her pregnancy was apparent. Because then people would be aware of what she'd been up to. As if her children already in existence weren't evidence of that. 

*Shoes. This I totally get, as I am genetically predisposed to adore footwear. But I must protest that nine out of ten styles are those of three inches or more in heel height. Rendering them much more practical for sitting than standing. I admire the woman who can actually walk all day in these shoes comfortably and gracefully. If such women exist. 

*Oddly, inserted in between expert fashion advice in the way of clothing, make-up and beauty products and the advertisements touting the same...are the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty ads. Strikes me as the same sort of logic when the lose ten pounds quick strategies are sandwiched in between decadent and irresistible dessert recipes.

*And finally, black mascara and eyeliner is the only way to go. Black, black black. Don't get caught anywhere or any time of day without your black eye make-up! Here's the deal. I wear brown. Always have, even when I was younger and could have pulled off the much more dramatic look of black. My hair is brown, my eyebrows are brown. Black is just too harsh and Halloweenish on me. You can't make me buy it! So there!