bring on the burka


The other day MJE was strolling through the park when she happened upon a woman of a certain age dressed in short shorts and a tank top. That’s not the noteworthy part, it’s that this woman was a walking talking tower of cellulite. And I mean stem to stern. I am always envious of people who have such a positive self-image that they will bare parts of their bodies regardless of their condition, seemingly unaware or indifferent to how revolting their appearance is to other people.

I myself can barely look at my ankles without a shudder. Forget thighs, stomach, upper arms or decolletage. It has been years since I donned a pair of shorts or a skirt and a bating suit is so far beyond the realm of possibility that it might as well be a suit of chain mail. Then I thought, what about a burka! I know it’s a symbol of Islamic misogyny but talk about no hassle. First you can wear the same one everyday and who’s the wiser, no one even knows what’s under there. Imagine the freedom! Good bye exfoliating, shaving, waxing or plucking. No more costly cuts and color or blow outs, hell you don’t even have to wash your hair if you don’t feel like it. Sayonara, free weights, exercise class, or a healthy diet, although I do wonder how those women eat, maybe they carry around a camel back loaded with ensure. Kiss off all those expensive creams and potions and no more botox, laser treatments or facial peels. All of that falls away under that shroud of polyester. Who knew that something so repressive could be so liberating! I know what you’re thinking, under a burka a woman is reduced to a non-entity. But if that’s what it takes to never have to shave my legs again I am down with it. In fact I am going to right now and order a couple.