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Tag Archives: plastic surgery

Have Yourself a Wrinkle-Free Little Christmas

16 Dec

Every day when I walk my son home from elementary school, we pass in front of a fancy-schmancy pharmacy on the corner. I call it fancy because it has prime real estate that occupies half a block, with three huge picture windows for displaying their chemical-enhanced wares.

For months now, literally since my son started school in September and possibly even before that, the pharmacy people have kept a sign in the window with syringes on display.

Two enormous, gigantic, nightmare-inducing syringes.

After we passed it once or twice, Vincenzo (rightfully) said, “Mamma! What are THOSE for?!”

Well. You try explaining DIY Botox to your son, and let me know how that works out.

I—being I—was like, “UGH. You know those women who look all puffy-faced? With crazy lips like ducks?” (Of course at this point I did a fairly accurate, IMHO, impersonation of Tina Cipollari, God help us all. I think she’s actually a he, under all that makeup. Actually, just turn to any TV show with the Maria De Filippi stamp of approval, for a perfect example of how to explain this topic to your very own inquiring five-year-old.)

Who’s Tina Cipollari, you ask? Well. I didn’t actually know her name until JUST NOW. She’s been on the outer reaches of my Italian pop culture radar for years, because she has some role to play in the show known as Uomini e Donne (Men and Women) where women compete for men or vice versa or something, which merits an entire blog post of its own, except I can’t bear to do any sort of practical research about Italian TV. I have a high pain tolerance, you see, but not that high. Even I have my limits. Anyhoo. This is she of whom I speak, oh great beacon to bleached blonde hair,  doing her part to keep the fledgling market for pink frost lipstick afloat:

tina-cipollari

Please, I beg of you: pull me back from the edge. Don’t let me digress.

POINT BEING: Fillerina.

Aw, now isn’t that cute? Little tiny filler. Ina, ina, oh so tiny and cute.

And, made by the good folks over at Labo. I like the name Labo for the people behind a chemical facial product you inject. Because Lab makes me feel like it’s made in a lab, as in, laboratory (pronounced like this: “la-BORE-a-tory” because it sounds so much more diabolical). And it also makes me think of a Golden Lab Retriever, which has always seemed like a very companionable and trustworthy dog. And if you add “o” that makes it sound sort of Italian, because you have to end words with vowels. But put the Swiss flag next to it. Because you know all Swiss women have perfect skin–they are born from the glacial runoff of the pristine Alps. Thus, the ad geniuses hit a home run with this one:

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So basically what we’re talking about is a sort of Botoxy-looking product that you can shoot into your face from the comfort and privacy of your own home. Oh joy of joys. Let me show you what I’m talking about. The sign is, of late, draped in festive golden garland for that extra special holiday sparkle! Kind of makes the needles look like they want to deck the halls with boughs of silicone. Fa la la la la, la la la la.

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Ok. Now is the portion of our show where I go trolling the Interwebs for totally superficial research to quell our now-aroused curiosity. Please stand by.

Oh! Well! Would you look now? Those weren’t SYRINGES! Them there’s called “precision applicators,” and that silver needle-lookin’ thing? Well, come closer you ignorant son of a biscuit …  that thar’s called a “truncated metal cannula.”

Oh, silly me! Well then. Let’s go to the videotape!

Yes, but I know what you’re thinking now. You’re thinking: “Those 25 seconds sure were awfully convincing and all, but I have just one more question: SO HOW DOES IT ACTUALLY WORK?”

I am so very glad you asked that!

The formulation of Fillerina Gel associates 6 different types of conveyed hyaluronic acids with different molecular weights and structures, with a diversified action in the various cutaneous layers, to facilitate the filling in and plumping up of tissues. The active component – Matrifull – acts over time on the skin matrix, promoting the reconstruction of the natural filling substances such as collagen I and III and fibronectin, for a visible plumping effect.

You know what folks? I can’t really go any further on this post. I think this stuff is Matrifull of shit. So. Happy Ho Ho Holidays. And please, by all means, do not teach your children about Botox. They could end up like the woman in this article, which, by the way, tells us that in 2011, Italy was in sixth place worldwide for plastic surgery, with liposuction and botox injections the most popular of the bunch.

So, maybe that explains why my damn pantiliner box was having a plastic surgery sweepstakes? I didn’t win myself a new set of knockers, just in case you were wondering.

(By jove,  I’ve never had occasion to say knockers. Come to think of it, I could have said jugs. Or just boobies. But knockers seemed like the right blend of decorum and satire, don’t you think?)

Personally, all I want for Christmas is a big ol’ box of coveyed hyaluronic acids under the tree. But only if they have different molecular weights and structures, and then only if they can provide me with diversified action in the various cutaneous layers, mind you.

Up next: Crescina. “Little growth.” Cute, no? Results with proven photographic proof:

hamilton man

But if the Hamilton/Norwood scale of male pattern baldness isn’t sexy enough for you, how about:

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Well hell, folks! If it’s good enough for a retired Brazilian footballer “considered by experts and fans to be one of the greatest football players of all time” then I’m banking that it damn sure must be good enough for any balding Joe Schmoe (ahem, that would be Giovanni Sciomani, I think) walking past the pharmacy.

Thank you, Labo! I bet you guys wear white coats in your commercials, don’t you?

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Would You Like to Have Them Like This?

16 May

Ok, folks. Here we go. I don’t know what’s going to be more graphic about this post. The fact that I actually have to type the word “pantiliner” (cringe) or the fact that I have to subject you to a pair of boobies that are inflated to bursting capacity with the excruciatingly awful headline: “Would you like to have them like this? I’ll pay for them!”

Lord, have mercy on my soul.

Salvaslip

This is NOT what I wanted to see as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes this morning and opened this brand new box of feminine end-of-monthly-cycle (also known in Italy mysteriously as “my things” – le mie cose) protection product.

Now, this brings to mind how I could probably write an entire post questioning the etymology of why menstruation in Italian is referred to as “my things” and how it’s possible that a woman can simply say Mi sono arrivate as in, “They’ve come to me” and that is like some weird code phrase that really means “I have my period.” However, I will leave that for another titillating future adventure. Because, no. Today I really want to ask my faithful public how it is possible that Velluto Salvaslip (Velvet? Really? Who was the marketing genius that green-lighted that brand name, BTW?) is running a sweepstakes in which the lucky winner will receive €6,000 for their “new look” a.k.a. as listed in the ad “breasts – butt – nose – lips – tummy”

HOLY EFFING SHIT, people. I mean, pardon my French, but are you effing kidding me? Wow. I didn’t know that we had reached this level of terrifying superficiality around here. No, seriously. The blood is running cold in my veins.

“Just send in 3 barcodes to participate in the drawing.*”

*see complete rules at www. sweetwipes. com

OHMYGOD. What’s worse? The fact that I have to read through rules about a plastic surgery sweepstakes? Or the gag factor inherent in the fact that there’s a website out there called SWEET WIPES DOT COM?

Oh Mary mother of God, pray for our sins.

I’ll try to type in sweetwipes.com without breaking into a fit of uncontrollable creepy laughter. Ok…I’m going in. Cover me.

NOOOOOO!

No.

No, no, a million times NO! Why didja have to go and show a half nekkid buxom woman with yellow dotted lines drawn on her plastically modified body?

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“Would you like to have a body like this? I’ll pay for it!”

Oh, look! On the website they helpfully add that you could also have your hips or eyes “remodeled.”

In the fine print it says if you don’t opt for the plastic surgery you could use the €6,000 in “beauty treatments.” Whatever that might mean. Frankly I don’t have the patience or the inclination to read through the entire downloadable PDF file of contest rules and regulations.

Let me just leave you with this, incidentally, that I found while browsing vintage ads today, which happens to be one of my many Internet time-wasters hobbies. (I graduated with a degree in advertising. Yes, they issue those.) Lest we forget that the stick-thin body wasn’t always the ideal of beauty, check out this post that reveals how vintage ads encouraged weight gain and curvy figures.

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But: sweet wipes.

Seriously, folks. You think you’ve seen it all, and then you get a website called sweetwipes.com.