me and emma

More and more I think I look like Emma Peel. A little older maybe. Shorter hair.

A lot of people would probably say that's good. She's cool. You should only be so lucky to look half that good! But it's not so good if your ideal of feminine beauty was Audrey Hepburn.

I confess: I'm a gamine fan. Or was.

I have a lot to be grateful to Emma for. She saved me from the other extreme of unrealistic body expectations: the gamine-waif look.

One day in New York City (many moons ago) I saw an Emma Peel wannabe - extra lean version - approaching on Fifth Avenue. Black leather cat suit; boots; immaculate coif & cool sunglasses. My first thought was: I'm that thin. I could wear that.

My second thought was a surprise to me: That is NOT attractive!

Then and there I decided to stop all the nonsense that had me down to a size 1 or 3 and to stop worrying about carrying some flesh on my bones. Maybe even not to mind being strong and somewhat capable. . . . maybe even kick-ass like Emma! Maybe be like how I found myself to be, rather than trying to make myself over into someone else. (altho a little exercise never hurts and I really do need to cut down on the chips. . . . for health reasons, if nothing else)

I also decided, though, that I did not care to look like a walking you-know-what kind of toy! Emma walks a fine line.

These days, I'm amazed at the number of people who are saying they wouldn't mind looking like Britney Spears. Somehow I don't think that's what they really mean. I hope what they really mean is that they wish their babies or their years didn't show on their hips, ass and bellies. . . . so they could wear normal clothes without feeling fat. Not so they could squeeze into sequined bikinis and lurch around national television with stringy hair-extensions. But then there's the other side, who see Britney as "fat", when clearly. . . . well, I guess they'll need an epiphany like I had.

Really, when you look at it, one extreme is just as bad as the other. It's like the proverbial drunk man who falls off one side of his horse, clambers up again, only to fall off the other side. (and I think that's from C.S. Lewis)

In the mean time, me and Emma are friends. Maybe I should let my hair grow a little longer. . . . and I just love those boots!