Bitchery reader Caroline sent me this link to a jaw-dropping column about how American women measure up to British women, written by some guy I’ve never heard of named Tad Safran.
I would like to place my crisp, waxed, manicured, and very attractive dollar, which is worth jackass shit compared to the UK Pound, on a bet that Mr. Safran will have a HELL of a time getting laid in the future.
Mr. Safran thinks American girls pay more attention to our appearances, and we look after ourselves with what we consider obligatory beauty maintenance that includes, “haircut, highlights, manicure, pedicure, waxing, tanning, make-up, facials, teeth whitening etc. They will spend a further $1,000 (Â£500) a month on physical conditioning such as military fitness, spinning sessions, vikram [sic] yoga, Pilates, deep-tissue sports massage, personal training etc. On top of that, add the occasional spa day, a week-long “bikini boot campâ€ in Mexico at the start of every summer and seasonal splurges on personal shoppers and clothing. I’m not sure any of my British female friends spends Â£700 during an entire year on her appearance.”
Ouch. Well, ok, he’s entitled to his opinion. But then he breaks out the nasty and layers it on with a very thick hand:
“At dinner, I found myself sitting opposite something that surely would have been happier hunting for truffles in the forests of France or grazing on the grassy marshlands of Canada. My friend’s wife had told me that Sophie still had the body of a 20-year-old. Maybe she did . . . dismembered in her freezer at home. She certainly didn’t have it on her skeleton.”
Oh, dude. No, you didn’t.
So based on his experience with one blind date and his observations of women in the US – specifically New York City and LA, two cities wherein the female inhabitants are certainly more self-aware in terms of beauty regimen than other parts of the country – he arrives at his question: “Why is it the case (and I’m generalising here) that British women spend so little time and effort on looking after them-selves…. For some reason, being seen to make an effort with one’s appearance is regarded as shameful among British women.”
What?! He thinks Brit ladies are fugtastic because of a twisted beauty-based version of tall-poppy syndrome?
Fear not, British women. He gives us forward American women a mannerly shakedown as well: “The irony is that, as obsessed as American women are with their looks, they totally ignore their social skills. Within 10 minutes of meeting an American woman, I guarantee you will know her salary and most recent medical/ dental procedure. They all but turn up with their CV printed out…. American women also take themselves too seriously and are annoyingly confrontational.”
In the end, Mr. Safran’s observation is that American women are gorgeous but without social grace; British women are fug-buttly but a great person to have a pint with.
Oh my dear sweet baby Moses watching Baby Einstein DVDs. And to think, so many of the chick-lit books I read a few years ago featured British protagonists getting makeovers, losing weight, reinventing themselves physically, and winning a guy in the end for their efforts when he realized that the stellar character within was finally matched by a Hawtty McBod without.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why this guy felt the need to pen this missive of manfoolishness unless he’s trying to embark on a vow of celibacy, and wanted to make sure no nubile young women from either country tried to tempt him out of his sexless mission. Holy cow.
So – can there be a happy ending for this dude? Or shall we devise new methods of torture to pay him back for his careful and careless analysis of American and British ladies?
My personal fantasy: this man meets a Southern belle and has his ass handed to him in the most politely cutting manner possible by someone who is breathtakingly polished and utterly uninterested in him. Bless his heart.