Fashion Victim, by Martha Thomases – Brilliant Disguise | @MDWorld

July 7, 2012 Martha Thomases 10 Comments

When I go on vacation, I like to buy something new. Something kicky and fun. Maybe a little inappropriate, even sexy. And the older I get, the more depressing this becomes.

My body has rarely been in fashion. When I was a teenager, all the models were flat-chested and long. If I wore the poor-boy sweaters that were the style, I looked like a milk-maid. And don’t even talk about dirndl skirts.

Still, I could find clothes that fit. I might have to sew a hem, or take in a waist (because then, I had one).

My best decade, as far as clothes go, was the 1980s. All of a sudden, tits were in. Shoulder pads put my top in proportion and made my hips look smaller. If it wasn’t for Reagan, that would have been a good time for me.

Now I can’t find anything. Do they even make women’s pants that go above the pubic bone? Is this why the young girls shave so much? If I want a garment made out of a non-petroleum by-product, I have to spend hundreds (if not thousands) of dollars. The style this year seems to be a lot of ruffles and fringe and beading. I don’t want all of this frou-frou. I’m already adequately frou’d.

In an attempt to find out what others in my situation were doing, I searched the Internet. Most of the advice was old news –moisturize, wear something that fits, don’t try to dress too young.

Look, I get it. I’m a woman over fifty years of age. My child-bearing years are behind me. I have no reason to go on living. After menopause, a woman’s body changes. No matter how much Pilates she does, she’s likely to have a bit of a belly (and I don’t do Pilates). Still, I have the audacity to occasionally want to leave my apartment. The law requires me to wear clothes.

I shouldn’t be surprised that there is so little consideration given by our society for women who aren’t young, rich and beautiful. It’s something I’ve witnessed all my life. Most recently, Congress is considering a law that would improve the situation of home health care workers <http://www.nationalmemo.com/when-workers-pay-gets-personal/>, most of whom are women. For some reason, they are treated as a separate class of worker under law.

Some of the work they do — light cleaning, meal preparation, maybe driving the client’s car to do errands — is fairly standard for housekeepers. Other work — bathing the patient, changing bedpans, cleaning up vomit, making sure medication is taken on schedule — is really a matter of life-and-death.

I loved my husband very much, so much that I wanted him to have better care than I could provide. I wanted him bathed by someone who could support his weight in the shower, fed by someone who could prepare meals he liked. I was thrilled to have the help. I wish I had needed more of it.

There are other issues, too. Frequently, when we are very ill, our personalities change. My father, at the end, thought his aide was trying to kill him because she wouldn’t give him the food he wanted (which his doctor said he couldn’t have). He screamed at her and called her names. That was not my father, as I explained to her, but even though she knew it wasn’t his fault, it couldn’t have been pleasant for her. I don’t know how much money it would take for me to accept a job like that.

And yet, they are paid less than a SoHo nanny. And the GOP thinks this is a situation worth preserving.

Why? I can only guess that it’s because they are women, doing work that women traditionally do. In our romanticized fantasies, our mothers, wives or daughters care for us when we’re sick, and they magically know what to do and are strong enough to do it. Because they are family, they do it for love (or at least guilt), not money.

Why buy the cow when the milk is free? Why do these discussions always come back to breasts?

Until we can think of women and what they do without reference to their tits, we’re going to have crummy health care in this country.

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Martha Thomases, Media Goddess, always wanted to talk to Nora Ephron about her essay on breasts.