It's made of one-way glass. From the outside (the left side of the pic) it's mirrored glass. From the inside (right side of the pic) you feel rather exposed.I'm not sure I could go there.
Somebody has WAY too much time on their hands. But I'm guessing at least one of you will try at least one of these:
Different Ways to Tie Your Shoes
Bill Gates retired today as the head of Microsoft. I read that he's going to start up a handyman business.
Apparently I'm the kiss of death for female competitors at Wimbledon. Ana Ivanovic lost to a Chinese player ranked somewhere below me on the ATP. So I figure the right move for me at this point is to predict that one of the Williams sisters is going to win it all.
I very rarely get angry. I get irritated often but I can't remember the last time I got truly angry. This morning I was just this side of furious.
I went for my eye exam this morning. I don't understand the connection, but the small building the ophthalmologist is in (used to be a bank branch) also houses the offices for a doctor or doctors who do cosmetic surgery. I want to believe they just share space but I can't tell.
A technician did some preliminary tests and then put those dilating drops in my eyes. Then she took me to a room down the hall to wait the 20 minutes it takes for the drops to do their thing.
This room used to be the vault. Either that or they're really worried about somebody stealing their chairs.
It now houses a conference table with 6 chairs around it and, at the far end of the room, a credenza. On that credenza sits a medium-sized TV playing a video in a continuous loop.
I watched the video for about five minutes and very quickly figured out it was all about the great benefits of various types of cosmetic surgery. All of the testimonials and before/after pics were women. Their skin was now smoother and clearer, their wrinkles gone, freckles disappeared, drooping eyes young looking again, youthful lips, crow's feet a thing of the past. And all of this had improved their self confidence, their relationships, their success...
I was so irritated that I turned the chair so my back was to the TV. But I still had to listen. Including to this line: "Your friends all tell you they like you just the way you are. But when you're prettier they'll tell you they like you more."
When we lived in Prunedale we were 45 minutes south of Silicon Valley, that suburb of San Jose that for some reason became the center for manufacturers of computers and peripherals. Now we live in Silicone Valley, where bigger is better and preserving the appearance of nubility is essential. Wrinkles and sags are intolerable. Age is the enemy, and with modern medical science there's no reason to surrender to it.
I know in my head it's out there. But sitting in that room, being forced to listen to all the shallowness, the totally twisted priorities, and the use of our culture's ego-centric world view pushed me over the edge. By the time the technician came to get me it was all I could do to be civil.
I didn't say anything to the tech or to the eye dr. when he came into the examining room. And I've thought about a letter, but the profit motive has me outweighed ten to one.
And that's what it's about - a doctor using the worst of human nature, women's insecurity and the screwed up values of western culture for his own financial gain. He doesn't care a whit about his patients. He want to make more money, and convincing them they are inadequate and he that can fix it is his stock in trade.
I'm angry at him. I'm angry at the women who are so shallow as to think their beauty is the summum bonum. I'm angry at our culture for creating this zeitgeist. And by culture I mean mostly the media and Madison Avenue. And I hope that doctor doesn't have daughters.
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