LA: the Land of the Crazy Plastics

I was just in Los Angeles for ten days - enjoying the sun, above seasonal temperatures, and cheap shopping. For the first seven days I was in love. I loved everything about it. Healthy eating was as accessible as botox (which is VERY). Cakes were fat and sugar free but loaded with taste (perhaps LA has some sort of legal magical drug that gives deliciousness to chocolate cupcakes?). And even the gym offered an array of exciting classes that had me going twice a day (Hello? Recess class? How can Red Rover NOT be a fun aerobic activity?).

But on the eight day my love affair started to wane. Firstly, the traffic. THE TRAFFIC!!??? GAH! When you are stopped bumper to bumper on a TEN-lane freeway you know something is wrong. When it takes you nearly an hour to get to a place that should only take fifteen, you may want to shoot yourself. And the worst of the worst is that all I had was BAD LA RADIO playing in my car. It made my ears bleed, I swear.

Secondly, the people and the icky way they make you feel. Everyone in LA stares at everyone else. They are sizing you up, or trying to see if you are someone, or comparing their blonde highlights to your blonde highlights. And a slim (athletic! Average!) Canadian girl can't help but feel like a big fat moose when she works out at an LA gym. The classes were full of stick-figured-bobble-heads. You know the type: the girls who diet SO much that their heads end up looking ridiculously huge on their emancipated bodies. Icksville. Get these girls some Sprinkles Cupcakes STAT! There was also a large number of altered bodies that made me stare long and hard at them; trying to figure out why they resembled aliens. Until I realized it was a facelift/botox/lipinjection job. One woman must have been only 34 but looked like she was 68 trying to be 34. Her horribly pulled back eyes that could barely blink and her bizarrely large lips that resembled a ducks bill made me do a funny repulsed action with my body. Luckily we were in step class so I could blame my reaction on a missed move.

The gym was full of these weirdo LA-ites. Talking on their cell phones during yoga, wearing sunglasses on the pilates machine, and paying trainers to literally move their limbs for them.

I was quite happy to land back in rainy city where it may have been rainy but at least the lips were real and the chocolate cupcakes full of fat and sugar.