Monthly Archives: November 2011

Don’t You Turn My Brown Eyes Blue

Posted on November 23, 2011 by Kathleen Fox

"If you read it on the Internet, it ain't necessarily so." That's my motto when it comes to judging the veracity of stories that get passed along online. From outrageous political or economic "facts" to heartwarming stories about sick children, brave rescues, or baby ducklings being adopted by mama mountain lions, my attitude ranges from healthy skepticism to plain old-fashioned cynicism.

Unfortunately, the following story showed up in enough reputable news sites that it appears to be true. A certain Dr. Gregg Homer claims to have developed a laser procedure that will permanently turn brown eyes blue by removing the outermost layer of pigment. It may possibly come as no surprise that he is from that Silicon Valley of cosmetic surgery, southern California.

Dr. Homer, by the way, is a former entertainment lawyer and law professor who has a science degree from Stanford but is not an ophthalmologist. Maybe that's why I have trouble believing his assurances that this procedure wouldn't cause any inconvenient side effects. Like infections, say. Or increased risks of glaucoma or macular degeneration.

What was truly discouraging, though, as I skimmed through news reports on this story, was the number of brown-eyed people who appeared to be interested in this procedure. Dr. Homer's own estimate was 17%. It's easy to disregard that number as biased, of course. Still, comments on several of the stories included a surprising number who thought changing their brown eyes to blue was the greatest idea since Botox.

Until reading those comments, I didn't realize blue eyes were supposed to be sexier and more beautiful than brown eyes. Who knew? Here all these years I thought my lack of dates in high school was due to my shyness and lack of social skills.

Or maybe the Old Blue Eyes wannabes have the same mindset as Dr. Homer, who was quoted in a couple of reports about the eyes being "windows to the soul." In his view, light-colored eyes have the advantage of being less opaque and therefore are more "open" windows.

Maybe so. Having been lied to over the years as effectively by blue-eyed children as brown-eyed ones, I have my doubts.

As the sixth grandchild in my extended family, and the sixth girl, I was told as a child by my grandmother that "the only reason we brought you home when we found out you were a girl was your pretty brown eyes."

Setting aside the various layered messages in that statement, I'll just say this: if brown eyes were good enough for my blue-eyed grandmother, they're more than good enough for me. Opaque or not, I'm keeping mine in their original condition. If I want to invite you to look into my soul, I'll let you know.

Categories: Living Consciously | Tags: Botox, brown eyes blue, cosmetic surgery, Dr. Gregg Homer, Old Blue Eyes, opthalmologist, Silicon Valley, Stanford, windows to soul | 3 Comments

The Doc Will See You Now

Posted on November 18, 2011 by Kathleen Fox

Waiting with eager anticipation for the dental hygienist to summon me, I was browsing through a magazine. Not knowing it was going to provide me with a target—er, material—I didn't especially notice its name, but it had something to do with women's health. It was obviously targeted at a demographic other than hopelessly last-century me, with its bright colored frenetic layout and breezy editorial style.

According to a snappy little article about skin health, suspicious moles, spots, or rashes were all reasons to consult your "derm." After a couple of encounters with this truncated usage, I figured out this was just-between-us-girls shorthand for the doctor a more dignified age would have called a "dermatologist."

Another article, or possibly an ad—the distinction between content and commerce wasn't clear—made me painfully aware that the professional to be consulted for reproductive and pelvic issues is now a "gyno." "Gynecologist" is so old-fashioned, not to mention hard to spell and time-consuming to text.

Presumably, a woman might also need to consult other medical specialists from time to time. A gastro, perhaps, or a surg. Even, for more serious issues, possibly a cardio or an onco. Her children, of course, would be taken to a ped or perhaps a pedia. Her parents' failing hearing might lead them to consult an audio. Those annual eye exams would be done by an optho—so much easier to pronounce than the clumsy "ophthalmologist." An ortho would be the person to see if you broke an ankle, especially if the accident happened while you were fertilizing the lawn. On occasion, it might even be necessary to see a uro or even a procto.

I didn't have a chance to find out whether any of these other professionals were mentioned in the magazine. The hygienist interrupted me before I got that far. It was my turn to see the dent.

Just in time, too. I was almost stressed enough from all the amputated English to need a visit to the psych.

(Yes, I know. We take our animals to the vet, and we've done so for years. That's different. Don't ask me how or why; it just is.)

Categories: Words for Nerds | Tags: dermatologist, gynecologist, ophthalmologist, women's health | 1 Comment

Sanitizing Art

Posted on November 11, 2011 by Kathleen Fox

Did you hear the one about the cleaning lady who washed away part of a million-dollar piece of art?

No, really. That's exactly what happened. According to an Associated Press item in our local paper last week, a cleaner in Berlin's Ostwall museum "scrubbed away a patina intended to look like a dried rain puddle." The painted puddle was part of a work by an artist named Martin Kippenberger called "When it Starts Dripping from the Ceiling."

In my experience, combining money and dripping substances in the same sentence usually takes the form of, "Here's what fixing this is going to cost you." Within that context, maybe it's not completely unreasonable that the value given for this piece of art was $1.1 million. Whether many people would have actually paid that much for it, even before the unfortunate puddle-scrubbing incident, is another question.

Not, let me hasten to add, that am unfeeling enough to make light of the pain involved when one's patina is scrubbed away. Quite the contrary. I've actually experienced such a loss myself, years ago. My then mother-in-law was visiting, and she spent half an afternoon and several steel wool pads scouring every last bit of the seasoning off my iron skillet. She was so proud of her accomplishment that I didn't have the heart to tell her that black coating on the skillet was supposed to be there.

But back to poor Mr. Kippenberger's vanished puddle. What is art intended to do? Generate an emotional response in the viewer. Obviously, that's what happened in this case. The cleaning woman saw the puddle and had an emotional response—probably something like: "What inconsiderate, sloppy so-and-so left this big mess for me to clean up?" She acted on that response, thereby becoming part of the process of creation. You might say she took the artwork to a new level.

Therefore, if it was worth $1.1 million to start with, it seems to me somebody ought to pay her at least a couple of hundred thousand for her contribution. Which, I might point out, must have taken a lot of hard scrubbing.

But that's a matter for the cleaning woman, the museum, the owner of the artwork, and all their lawyers. In the meantime, at least I know what to do if winter gets here before the roofers do and our hail-damaged roof starts leaking. I'll just give the mess a catchy name, call it art, and slap a price tag on it. I'd start modestly, I think—$300,000 ought to be enough.

And I'll make sure to tell the cleaning woman not to touch it.

Categories: Just For Fun | Tags: Dripping from the Ceiling, Martin Kippenberger, Ostwall museum, seasoning iron skillet | 2 Comments

Virtual Reality

Posted on November 4, 2011 by Kathleen Fox

We were traveling last weekend, and it was a struggle to live under such backward and primitive conditions for four whole days.

Sleeping on the floor? No, that wasn't the problem. The queen-sized air mattress was actually quite comfortable. Well, except for the second night, which got a bit squishy. By morning we had figured out that an air mattress left up for a couple of days tends to lose a little air. After we learned to top off the tank at bedtime, we were fine.

Having only one bathroom for four adults? Hey, we could manage. Members of this family have survived quite a few holiday visits where over a dozen people shared one bathroom, and people were still friendly by the time they went home.

No dishwasher? No problem. I rarely use the one we have at home.

Having the mailbox a quarter of a mile away? Great. It was a good excuse for a walk in the crisp fall air.

It's no problem to live without many of the comforts of home for a few days. It may even be good for one's character.

But there are limits. Here's where inconvenience morphed into real hardship:

Cell phone coverage. What coverage? From half a bar to no bars to the dreaded battery-eating "Searching System" message.

Internet access. Oh, it was there—we weren't quite as primitive as all that. But dial-up only. That's spelled S-L-O-W. Checking email was a project, waiting for a website to load provided ample time to memorize every stray piece of paper on the bulletin board, and downloading a photo was a long-term commitment.

Now that was roughing it.

For four whole days, no one could reach me on my cell phone. I could barely check my email once a day. I couldn't read my local paper online. Browsing Facebook? Forget it. Twitter? No way. Oh, wait, I don't Tweet anyway. Never mind.

Getting back to my familiar electronically in-touch world, I felt the relief of an addict who has just scored a long-overdue fix.

I checked my phone for messages. There weren't any. I checked my email. There was nothing that needed immediate attention. I checked Facebook. I hadn't missed any new pictures of grandkids.

For four whole days, I had been virtually out of virtual touch.

And nobody even noticed.

Categories: Just For Fun | Tags: cell phone coverage, Facebook, Twitter, virtual reality | 2 Comments