Why Can’t They Leave Well Enough Alone?

16 Jun

As summer is now upon us and the rain shows hints of sunlight, I’ve become aware of a trend that is both dangerous and immoral. Normally I have a woman come to me to do my hair, but on occasion I frequent a local beauty parlor. While under the dryer, I often flip through the pages of whatever magazines they have available. I find this keeps me up-to-date on the social issues of the day while saving me the shame of actually purchasing one of these gossip gazettes myself.

Yesterday I was at said salon having my hair done in preparation for last night’s gala at our own Museum of the Mundane, when I noticed page after page of young women whom I can only describe as orange. Bernard, my coiffeur, explained that “having” a “tan” was “all the rage” amongst these young “celebrities.”

The tone of one’s skin (whatever that may be) is a gift from above, and to try to deliberately alter it is quite frankly blasphemy. I myself am rather fair-skinned and, while I do not intend to imply that my complexion is perfect, my complexion is in fact perfect. This is because I have never deliberately tried to alter it. It has changed, of course; after all, I have travelled the world and one does not spend days building a hospital in the Chalbi Desert without getting some sun. But that was the result of the good work I was doing, not a vain attempt to change the hue of my epidermis. If these young ladies could manage to do a decent day’s work, they might find that, in addition to a helpful pay packet, they will earn the bronze glow of a job well done.

What I find even more alarming is that some of these starlets do not even gain their colour from the sunshine, but rather apply to it to their own persons through the use of a cream which changes their skin’s shade. Christopher informs me that this is why they appear so orange, rather than tanned. Ludicrous! I think we would all agree that harlots use artificial colour to paint their cheeks—-what on Earth must we call those women who paint their whole bodies? I shudder to think and am thankful that I am unfamiliar with the names that Christopher has suggested as possibilities.

Despite all my worldliness, I still find myself shocked by some of the things people find in vogue. Call me a fuddy-duddy, call me a prude, call me an award-winning writer with fans based all over the northern and southern hemispheres, call me what you will. But I am comfortable enough with myself as I was made to have stayed ignorant of this trend for as long as I have, and I am glad of it.

Note: I may be away from the computer for a day as tomorrow I am having one of my tattoos removed. We shall speak soon.

2 Responses to “Why Can’t They Leave Well Enough Alone?”

  1. Robert "The Badger" Lee Monday, 15 June 2009 at 23:42 #

    Miss Agatha,

    Which tattoo did you submit to the laser? I’d like to alert your curious readers in the next edition of the MAWW fan newsletter I edit, fold, staple and put in the post every fortnight whether you’ve got anything new in bookshops or not.

    They’re a nosey lot, your readers. Perhaps I’ll send the two of them a link to this blog of yours, in the event that they find their way to a computer someday.

    Or maybe I won’t.

    Humbly yours,


  2. Yours, Agatha Wednesday, 17 June 2009 at 21:41 #

    Alas, it was my Rose tattoo. You may have been with us the night I got it. In autumn 1986, we were all in Boston for the Splendid Wits Expo and set out to paint the town. Some of us decided to be tattooed, and I asked for a small number 6 since, you may remember, I was an ardent Bill Buckner supporter. Unfortunately the man with the needle preferred the Reds and insisted on doing a rather impressive likeness of Pete Rose. I have actually wanted it removed for quite some time but the queue for Pete Rose tattoo removals was so long that, despite adding my name to it in 1989, I have only just been able to have it taken care of. The process was traumatic, but Christopher was there to comfort me with cool drinks and stories of his childhood, and I am now healthfully Rose-free.

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