Author: Liz

There’s no secret about The 2010 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show – it makes men weak and women weep.

Come on everyone – really?  Do we need to see gorgeous models with bodies we can only dream of and will never have because our genetics only allowed us to be 5’3″ with some junk in the trunk (um, well that would be me)….but because our DNA did not match up, some chromosomes forgetting I wanted more height and more lean (maybe mom smoked some extra cigarettes that day during her pregnancy, no offense mom, women were smoking back then without question)….but because of these natural misfires, do I need to be subjected to hours of catwalking beauties?

I guess so.

Ok – I’m jealous.  I want that to be me.  I want to slither down a catwalk with huge angel wings strapped to my back, in a thong and lacy bra, bejewelled, hair blowing in the breeze.  I want to feel what it’s like to be 6′ tall.  I want to be that dream girl.

I understand why men drool at this….it’s damn sexy.  And we women can see it even through our envious eyes.  But boy, can it make trying on swimsuits and lingerie intimidating.

AND YET – I will say this…as we all know this perfection parade is just that….a parade.  Theatrical, amped up…pushed up.  These beauties are few and far between…and even they have bad hair days.  It is ultimately in how a woman works with what she has – and how she feels about herself and her body that exudes sexiness.  Confidence is sexy.

So although this annual ritual strikes fear in the female heart, maybe we can learn a thing or two about how to strut our own stuff.  If you feel sexy, you are sexy….regardless of your panties or cup size.

Wear it, walk it, be it.

I take the bus down Second Avenue every morning to work….today it was raining and packed with people.  I got on, an older woman sat next to me.  The window was fogged – she asked what block we were on.  There began our conversation – her talking, me nodding.

She’s 62.
Her husband worked in construction.
The Second Ave subway construction has been going on for years – 1 horn blast means get ready, 2 blasts means get out of the way, 3 blasts means all is ok? (I think that’s what she said.)
There’s tickets for everything – for this new bus system, when she went to the deli the other day….everywhere there’s tickets….she has a bag full of them.
She’s been disabled since 1977.
She grew up on 92nd St. between 1st and 2nd, and moved away for 10 or 11 years, then moved back when her dad passed away.
She worked in petty cash.
If she gave someone 25 cents for a cup of coffee, they had to sign for it as she was responsible for all the money.
She was going to the dentist for this (pointing to her mouth with no teeth.)
She knew everything there was to know about the highest end typewriters at work – but doesn’t and can’t work on a computer.
When you call somewhere and you can’t get an answer, ask to speak the manager, someone in charge.  Or get their name at least.
Her husband told her to take a cab, but she couldn’t find one, it was raining.
When she worked, it was with the Ministry of something or other.
She hasn’t worn the ankle boot in years but thought she should today.
One leg is shorter than the other – and they can give her an ankle replacement.
There was mention of a hip replacement as well.
The weather in NY isn’t as extreme as it was when she grew up – they used to make snow forts in front of her building.
She used the word indignant.

I didn’t get her name.