December 08, 2015
Source: Shutterstock
The Guardian‘s Zoe Williams scolded the sexist, stuck-up judge for being so nasty and heartless about poor “C,” her work-to-rule kidneys, and her ever-shrinking “sparkle”:
The discussion prompted by this judgment has a dour, chilly, postwar ring to it, like something reaching back to the 1950s…. Is it really credible that a woman might care so much about her appearance that she would rather die than watch it deteriorate?
Now, my mind has not sufficiently deteriorated to the point where I”m incapable of replying to that last sentence by making reference to the photo of Zoe Williams that The Guardian so helpfully posts along with her column.
But I won”t…
Instead I”ll simply say: “Yes.”
I”d have disliked the now-late “C” had I met her in the (presumably tan-bedded) flesh. Her muletilla-mantra, “sparkle,” effortlessly evokes one of those never-quite-beautiful women of a certain age who insist, mistakenly”especially after imbibing too many of three years ago’s trendy cocktails”that her “life would make a great book.” Her fake nails (painted a sickly hue not found in nature) invariably clench a shabby, overlarge, designer-knockoff handbag. She is eager to demonstrate her ability to “twerk.”
She is, in effect, one of those AbFab broads, who were”let’s try to remember”not meant to be role models.
But at the safe distance of Death, I feel a speck of sisterhood with “C.” And that’s without having (knowingly), in all my fifty years, discharged a single solitary “sparkle.”
