American Thighs by Jill Conner Browne Page B

current style of nude lipstick—which is a misnomer because nobody has TAN lips. There is no ethnic group on the planet that I have ever seen whose members have lips that are the color of grocery sacks—it is simply NOT a naturally occurring lip color and it is HIDEOUS—on everybody. There is not a living soul, of any age, or any color, who looks BETTER with a little bit of beige on her lips.
    A girl of fifteen to, say, midthirties can at least get away with it—they’re pretty much gorgeous no matter what they do to themselves—but if you are over forty and you put that almond-colored crap on your mouth, it may well indicate to the world at large that you KNOW what the current fashion is—but you will LOOK like dog-doo in it.
    And don’t be ironing your hair, either. We did that already, remember? It was unattractive then—just as it is now—it will ruin your hair now, just as it did then—AND on top of everything, you will look silly.
    While we’re on the subject of self-humiliation—don’t begoing out to where young people hang out and think that THEY think you are so cool. I promise you, they do NOT think you’re cool. They think you are goofy and pathetic—if not downright gross. They are laughing and not even behind your back—they are laughing in your face—which you would realize if you put on your reading glasses. They will face-laugh at you all night until you get too close to them, in which case they can’t get away from you fast enough. Unless, of course, you are buying the drinks, in which case they will be nicer to you but they are still laughing at you and being grossed out.
    Anyway, I can remember my very favorite dress of one particular summer. I wore it while dancing with wild abandon in the nightclubs of Cozumel, Mexico. I learned recently that there are no longer any nightclubs in Cozumel. Well, there are still some on the grounds of the big resorts that have made their home outside of town on the beautiful island, but all of the ones on the main drag—the ones where my seester, Judy, and I frolicked, lo these many years ago—are gone. The cruise ships have killed them off.
    The tourists who come in on the big ships are there for only a few hours during the day and the ones who come to stay in the big resorts never come in to town—so no need for anything downtown after dark. Sigh. Even Carlos ’n Charlie’s closes at, like, ten pm now, for crying out loud.
    But my favorite garment from the summer of 1985 was a black sundress that was up to here, cut down to there, and hadno back at all until slightly below my waist. Lord have MERCY, that was a HOT dress! I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the days of being able to wear a dress like that—but believe me, I KNOW they are GONE—goner than the discos of Cozumel. If I thought I had to try to squeeze into a dress like that today, I’d just hang myself with the spaghetti straps and consider it lucky if they’d go around my neck.
    Suffice it to say, I took full advantage of my fleeting time in Larvadom—this was evident, even in my earliest incarnations as The Sweet Potato Queen. My very first Queenly Outfit was my sister Judy’s 1964 prom dress. Judy at eighteen was somewhat more on the tiny side than I was at age thirty. Consequently, the dress would not zip all the way up, but I did not let that deter me in the slightest. I simply zipped it up to the waist, locked the zipper, and tucked the resulting flaps of the unzipped portion inside and VOYOLA! I had a backless green formal gown! Backless was a good look for me then—actually much better than frontless, truth be told.
    I’ll never forget what Raad Cawthon, hot newspaper columnist, said to me when he saw me in that dress. He said, “Damn, girl, you’ve got the most beautiful back in Hinds County.” Which, to this day, is still one of my favorite compliments