A Botox Party? YEAH BABY!Posted by Shelley Antscherl
End of the rainy season..?
Well, I think spring has finally sprung in White Rock.
The birds are now chirping merrily in the mornings, the trees have sprouted their annual lush green mist and it’s getting a bit warmer. But it’s ONLY JUST stopped raining!
I’m used to drizzle. Hell, I’m English – I don’t mind it all, but not forever and ever. Honestly, I’m deadly serious, is this proper spring now? Please put me out of my misery. Anyone… ANYONE…?
I still love Canada ten months on, but the rose-tinted glasses can sometimes get a bit scratched and blurry I have to admit. Continual monsoon aside, a few things that started off as quirky and amusing have now begun to get on my nerves.
The first thing is the Canadian obsession with driving, and their unspoken refusal to walk anywhere unless they’re specifically going for a leg-stretcher in the woods (and is it law that everyone must hike in lululemon spandex?).
I’m not moralizing about the environmental aspect (our big shiny red truck is my pride and joy), it’s the fact that no one would dream of strolling to the shops or walking to the beach unless they were shot full of crack, dressed in grubby rags and pushing a garbage-laden shopping cart.
Need a quick caffeine fix from Tim Horton’s 200 metres down the road? Then why not jump into a gas-guzzling Dodge Ram truck (the meaty 3500 model) and add a whopping-great carbon footprint to the cost of a bucket-sized French Vanilla Cappuccino Supreme (which is quite delicious by the way)?
But that’s not the worst bit, and firstly I’d just like to establish that Canadians, in my opinion, are possibly THE most polite, friendly and outwardly pleasant race of people I’ve ever come across. The British have nothing on them when it comes to modern good manners and general courtesy to the people around them, that is, until you put a Canadian behind the wheel of a car…
All of a sudden, these well-mannered North Americans – that most of the time remind us foreigners why they are SOOO much nicer than their brash neighbours across the border – vanish, and in comes a speeding lunatic with a penchant for horn-honking and psychotic tailgating.
Despite being no stranger to a spot of road rage in just about every European country I’ve ever driven in, I must confess to a feeling a little bit intimidated every day when I set off on the school run.
But ho hum. I’m getting the hang of it slowly and gradually learning to resist my compulsion to let someone in before me (just to be polite), and more embarrassingly, I’ve stopped winding down the window and loudly shouting out a sarcastic ‘THANK YOU!’ every time I stop for some old cretin as they shuffle across the road without acknowledging my courtesy.
So that’s not bad for nearly a whole year in a new country and considering I hated Deliverance (the rural Dutch village we lived in before BC) on the first day we arrived, we’re doing okay.
And I’ve made some lovely new friends who have just invited me to my first Botox Party!
A BOTOX PARTY?! Seriously! No one does these in England or Holland so I can’t wait to see what it’s all about. Obviously the title speaks for itself, but thanks to my virginal state when it comes to cosmetic fillers, I’m just going to go and spectate on this occasion, but I am very excited.
It’s not that I’ve got anything against cosmetic surgery, as everyone who knows me knows I’d love a good boob job to restore my rack to its former Vegas Showgirl glory (if only…), but on this occasion I’m going to be sensible and resist the urge to quaff too much wine, lest I throw caution to the wind and end up looking like the Bride of Wildenstein.
But before I pen off to continue my weekly battle on the domestic frontline, a couple of interesting links I stumbled across recently:
Firstly a subject that affects any expat, but not the English these days it would seem.
And finally, something the North Americans do better than any other continent on earth. Junk Food!