A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
I know I should be writing my eagerly awaited Christmas gift column this close to the big day but something more important has come up, and that is your constant search for beauty hints. I say ‘your’ since I don’t need any tips, I was born flawless (also clueless, but that is a topic for another column).
There is apparently big trouble with the Miss USA Beauty Pageant choosing of R’Bonney Gabriel as the 2022 winner. There are accusations of biased judging, favouritism, and other skulduggery. The industry, if that is what it can be called, is in turmoil and the Miss USA President has been suspended pending an investigation.
I learned about the problem in a Rosie DiManno column in the Toronto Star. As Rosie wrote about the shenanigans going on, “It’s a poodle eat poodle world out there.”
To be honest I could care less about all the fixing stuff going on, what fascinates me is some of the subterfuge the contestants use to counter milady’s flaws as they parade across the stage. I didn’t know the ladies use butt glue to keep their bathing suits from riding up, hence creating wedgies. (That’s what I thought most of the men came to the pageant to see) I don’t know about you but wedgies have never been a big problem for me. I have my swim costumes especially designed by Omar the Tentmaker and there is enough material in the bum area alone to make a sail for the Bluenose.
I will give you a moment to picture that.
Wedgies are the least of my worries while public bathing and I have yet to parade across a stage at a beauty contest, although I once considered entering a Mr. Universe contest, but apparently you have to have at least one muscle. They don’t make it easy.
Butt glue comes with a warning. It should be used sparingly. In the 2018 pageant, Miss Nevada went a little overboard and missed the talent portion of the contest. She was found later stuck to a chair in the ladies change room.
I had a dreadful experience in my youth (about ten years ago actually) while sitting with a cooler of beer on scenic Cocoa Beach, Florida. I hadn’t realized the mesh under-pantaloons of my stylish bathing costume had come loose and was dragging in the sand. Fortunately our dear friend, Faye Peters, noticed my predicament and called it to my attention quietly so that only Gary, her beloved, my dear wife, and a few hundred other bathers were aware of my embarrassment. It was unfortunate that a reporter from the Miami Herald was on hand at that moment and my disarray ran on the front page for several days – apparently it was a slow news week.
But back to Rosie DiManno’s beauty pageant column; imagine my surprise when I read that the ladies often use hemorrhoid cream to take away the puffiness under their eyes. That tidbit of information has made so much difference in my life. People often stop me on the street to say how much younger I look now that my cheeks are slim and, dare I say, highly attractive. I can even see better now that I no longer have to peep over the swelling under my eyeballs. It has even helped my driving; I had never seen highway lanes before. I often wondered why people blew their horns and shook their fists at me.
I had no idea what a boon to society hemorrhoid creams have become to the beauty industry and my life in particular. I was always a little embarrassed by the size of my nose. It was often compared to the big horns sticking out from the driver side door of a 1920 Stutz Bearcat, but with a Preparation H suppository stuffed up both nostrils my big honker has almost disappeared, which unfortunately means I can no longer wear sunglasses. I have to admit I miss my friends and neighbours beeping my nose as they walk by, but then, we can’t have everything.
I couldn’t join in the November Moustache competitions because I now have no nose to grow the moustache under.