30 November 2005
Between vignette and vinaigrette
I am not particularly fond of the erstwhile cast of Friends, and of the three female leads Jennifer Aniston was always my third choice, but I must defend her against this absurd John Derbyshire blast:
While I have no doubt that Ms. Aniston is a paragon of charm, wit, and intelligence, she is also 36 years old. Even with the strenuous body-hardening exercise routines now compulsory for movie stars, at age 36 the forces of nature have won out over the view-worthiness of the unsupported female bust.
It is, in fact, a sad truth about human life that beyond our salad days, very few of us are interesting to look at in the buff. Added to that sadness is the very unfair truth that a woman's salad days are shorter than a man's really, in this precise context, only from about 15 to 20. The Nautilus and the treadmill can add a half decade or so, but by 36 the bloom is definitely off the rose.
"Salad days," indeed. I don't know where Derb's eating these days, but surely he knows that it's the dressing that makes the salad: otherwise, what you have is nothing more than a bowl of wet vegetables. (Should I wish it undressed, I will order it so.)
I know too many gorgeous women over 46 to believe this nonsense.
(Via Is this blog on?)
Update, 1 December: Derb keeps digging:
Conservatives, as I recall, are the ones who believe that "human nature has no history." It follows that we are at ease with the fact that the human female is visually attractive to the human male at, or shortly after, puberty, and for only a few brief years thereafter.
Civilized male conservatives, among whose number I very much hope to be counted, regard the visual attractiveness of women as a welcome lagniappe in the grand scheme of things, other attributes being far more important practically all the time, and those other attributes being the grounds for our respect.
So, John, how about those farm subsidies?
(Anything to get him off this topic.)
Posted at 12:25 PM to Table for One
I don't totally understand the meaning behind "salad days". As a woman in my 30s these are the salad days. I would call my 20s my burger days when I could eat whatever I wanted. This guy would probably pee all over himself if Jennifer Aniston was willing to go out with him, talk to him, look at him, read any crap he wrote...
Nice blog title by the way.
And I know too many women in their 40s and 50s who don't even need bras to believe it.
I saw a poster of Ms. Aniston a couple of days ago. She was unclad but showing very little. The girl can rock my socks any time she chooses.
We need to see more posts about these goregeous 'older' women. WIth pictures if possible. But no more Maureen Dowd. You know how I feel about her.
The term "salad days" is from Shakespeare. "My salad days, when I was green in judgment, cold in blood," said Cleopatra. It was not a reference to her diet, but to her former youth and inexperience. (And the salient point is, even though Cleo acknowledged her salad days were behind her, nobody considered her unsightly.)
She had, um, other talents, or so I've heard.
But the whole point here is that being young and inexperienced isn't quite the draw that Derb seems to think it is.
What utter balderdash. I feel very sorry for his wife.
Thank you for the rare positive comment about older women. I just bookmarked you because of this post.
I just Googled a picture of this skin-deep clown and I totally agree with Ceres. I won't tell you how old I am, but from my standpoint he needs to quit calling out kettles and stick to professional journalism.
Good Lord! I just googled this fella too ... I'm not GQ but this guy could knock the buzzards off a gut wagon with that kisser. He's even got that Frank Burns no lip thing going on.
Older women rock totally ... for all of the previously posted reasons and one more ... they'll tell you what they want ... thereby freeing up your mind for more useful tasks than guessing.
But hey, it's just me.
I guess since I'm in the dreaded 30's I have little to look forward to other than gorging myself on chocolate, now that my looks are gone.
Works for me.
(The Derb is way off on this one.)
"The dreaded 30's."
Life is so relative.