I noticed an odd trend in Montreal. Actually, we all did- it was very difficult to miss. There seems to be an abundance of small (teeny, tiny) thin women with huge (gigantic!) chests in that city. And they all wear extremely tall shoes. Even to a racetrack where they have to walk in dirt. Many of these women appeared to be on the verge of toppling over. It was unsettling.
As was the mole on the back of the woman sitting in front of me at the race. It looked really bad. We know from eavesdropping that her husband was a plastic surgeon (and a real dick- from the way he was discussing his patients). I don't understand why he wouldn't have looked at that mole and gotten her promptly into the dermatologist. Right away. And she was getting plenty of sun on it...
I have a special sensitivity to the whole mole/sun thing- some of you know that a little over a year ago I had a stage 1 melanoma removed from my back. It was the most frightening period of my life. I didn't know whether or not the cancer had spread, and felt like my skin was the enemy. It sucked. And I really lucked out. But the reality that it happened remains, and the threat lurks. Believe me, it's not something that anyone wants to experience. So the sunblock and covering up are important.
It didn't help growing up in the 70s when the Ban Du Soleil tan was in. And totally impossible for me. I could muster up a slight flesh tinge if I burned severely, blistered, peeled and re-dosed on sun in a week or so. But it inevitably flaked off after a couple of days. And the pain of the pre-tan burn was just unbelievable. Sheets hurt. Clothes hurt. Tepid showers hurt. And once the pain subsided, the itchy peeling started. And we just didn't know. All about skin cancer. No clue. My best friend in High School was a brunette version of me- pasty in the extreme, but hell bent on tanning. I only hope that she's not had similar problems. At least I didn't ruin my feet with stupid shoes, though. I'll leave that to the French Canadian ladies with the racks.
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2 comments:
it's that whole euro-trash crowd with fake boobs.
a nascar race would have had a different crowd, fewer teeth and bigger beer bellies.
Yeah- the place was rife with eurotrash. But I admit to lack of exposure to all that. And we did see some tremendous bellies- mostly on the Finns- who I really wanted to party with. But it would've killed me within minutes. No one parties lightly with the Finns. I love the Finns, though. Can't help it. Has to do with a bar in Butte. And a misbegotten weekend when I was 24.
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