Poetry in Pantyhose

I may be delving into dark and dangerous territory here (you think?) but I believe I understand women. I have been one, once or twice. Yes—that is me over there. Now before I completely embarrass my sons and scare my wife, let me explain.
A few years ago I played the Fairy Godmother in a couple of children’s pantomimes. In doing so, I experienced the trials and tribulations of being a woman—some of them at least. I itched and scratched from bra rash (I was not, I think, properly fitted) and I holed pantyhose beyond count. I even exposed my derriere one notable night when my tutu dropped to the ground. Yes, sisters, I am one of you. I feel our pain.
However…
Whilst it can be said that we women don’t have to wear bras or pantyhose and such inflictions are affectation, we know that not to be true, don’t we darlings? Men do rather expect it of us. But, what about elective cosmetic surgery—facelifts et al? Is that really necessary, and, if not, is that a truly self-inflicted affectation? I think so. And, yes, I know men have cosmetic surgery too, but I am not going there—I am back to being a misogynist male. Okay?
I think some of the women around me today are among the most beautiful I have met—inside and out—and as far as I know none has had major cosmetic surgery—or need it. Yet, reading a story in the Herald today, I see that for some women such surgery is not only an affectation it is an addiction. I refer to the story on mother and daughter Georgina Clarke and Kayla Morris who have spent thousands of cosmetic surgery, with Kayla funding much of it as a stripper. You can read their story here. The story tells us that currently the pair spend £5,000 a year on tanning beds and have had lip injections, Botox, cheek fillers, semi-permanent make-up, tooth whitening and hair extensions. Despite having already spent more than £50,000, the pair plan to have a boob job apiece later this year, along with buttock implants, a nose job, further lip injections, and veneers.
Now, may I venture a suggestion here that perhaps successful surgery, whilst enhancing the face or body, is most successful if not immediately apparent that you had it. Such is not the case here. As you will see if you go to that story or google images of the couple, their body and face enhancements are so obvious they are bordering on the grotesque. Why would you do that to yourself?
But, then I am being judgemental.
Sorry.
I am such a bitch.
So, let me return to safer ground: writers, writing and words.
All writers dream of that magic (and not always attainable) moment when he or she comes up with so perfect a phrase that they are forevermore in debt to the Muse, yet saddened that never again will they have such a moment. If it happens at all, it happens once. And it must have happened to the Daily Mail (the original publisher) writer who, grabbing a gift from the gods, appended to the above list of upcoming surgery this:
“(and) a designer vagina for Georgina.”
Gold!