"Our Faces are lies and our necks are the truth." **
I’m NOT Too Sexy For My Shirt*—I Just Can’t Give It Up
Did you ever have one perfect piece of clothing that was just everything you ever wanted it to be? First off, it didn’t cost a fortune when it came time to pay. Secondly, it was totally comfortable, and finally you even looked humanoid when you checked yourself in the mirror before going out.
Well, I have three such pieces of magic material turned into mock turtleneck tops, sewn no doubt by a sorcerer with magic threads. I am utterly ashamed to tell you just how long these items have been in existence in my closet. But they have staying power and I just can not see myself handing these over to the local thrift store, or someone who might just need a mock turtleneck, or heaven forbid, turning them into a cleaning rag.
Now, I have moved into the modern age by buying more stylish tops. But nothing, and I mean nothing, makes me as happy as slipping into one of my three White Stag tops. It’s like coming home to a comfortable sofa, or wearing a layer of armor-like confidence, or just plain liking the way it adds to your ensemble.
And why would one NOT feel all those things. I mean really—look at all the places you have been, things you have endured, enjoyed, lived it up, wearing just that particular top. It holds your memories, ready to bring them back to mind the moment you don this favorite piece of clothing. It’s as if a part of you was sewn into the fabric when this thing was made and has stayed there for years.
I must point out that I do not work for White Stag and do not receive any kind of remuneration from this company when I wear my top, or speak about it. But I have to go on to let you know that the times this blouse has been through the wash would qualify it for the world records book. It is practically indestructible. I am so sad they don’t even make this item any more and have not for many, many years. Trust me, for I have scoured the internet in an exhaustive search. (Lucky I bought a black, brown and white one when I had the chance eons ago.)
And finally, if this is going to be an honest “commercial,” then I must write with utter truthfulness. There is a fourth reason I love my shirt, and it is “my neck”--yep, my plain little "ol’ lady neck." It has taken to drooping in the last years, and looking like what some women indeed call “TURKEY NECK.” It is a sad thing to realize about oneself, to have a constant reminder right there when you look in the mirror. Now before you start to think I made this phrase up, just check out the internet. There are numerous entries with this very title. Some go on to tell women just how to get rid of said problem. The suggestions include everything from Botox, to laser skin tightening, to cosmetic surgeries that include cheeklifts and necklifts. Oh, and let me not leave out something called “fat transfer.” Folks, I only had courage enough to look up those phrases. I emphatically did not read about them. But I will say that if I had long ago known there was a process called “fat transfer” I could be a very different looking chick. I am guessing the meaning is that one could “transfer” fat from one place to another in one’s body. Sure makes it tempting to think I could have looked like Dolly Parton instead of having a neck like old Tom, the sacrificial Thanksgiving Turkey.
Long ago I decided to just let the chips fall where they may . . . and let me tell you things have fallen—the neck among them. But I just decided to move on and ignore the whole neck problem and laugh at myself. I even found a book by Nora Ephron that helped me through the doldrums. You must read I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman by Nora Ephron if you are suffering from Turkey Neck, ladies. It is a hoot. I discovered her long ago in the early 70’s when I was as young and nubile as I was ever going to be and she was funny then. She only got better with age in her writing. So I am following her lead. I just put on my favorite top that hides my neck, read Ephron, and laugh. There’s only one catch, a distraction—-my neck keeps slapping back and forth during the really funny parts!
* "I'm Too Sexy" by British group Right Said Fred
**I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman by Nora Ephron