The Better Half

…in which Uncle Duke examines women from an anthropological standpoint.

Don't get me wrong. I like women. I have always held them in the highest esteem and regard them with respect, not a little awe and a healthy smattering of fear. By and large, I feel they are the superior gender and have contributed far more to the evolution of the species than their male counterparts. They seem more deeply rooted in the essentials of our society and are, as a rule, more fun to dance with.

This is not to say that I wouldn't change anything. This doesn't mean that I couldn't give any constructive criticism. I don't mean to say I couldn't make a suggestion or two. I could indeed. All right. Since you insist.

I would perhaps begin with makeup. This is a concept I have always found somewhat baffling -- this application of compounds and coloring agents to one's face to enhance physical and, one assumes, sexual attractiveness. This sleight of hand flies in the face of the modern emphasis on self-respect and personal honesty. Lipstick seems like something we should maybe read about in Anthropological Digest. False eyelashes and fake nails sound appropriate perhaps for cave dwellers in hunting rituals, not individuals seeking equality in the market place. That women employ such guile is somehow diminishing and dishonest. And unnecessary. Is this a sting operation or what? Come on. Why are your toenails painted, really?

I suppose excessive attention to hair is actually a gender-neutral crime. But it does seem that, if you discount heavy metal rock bands, women are more prone to it than men. I have no idea what chemical and/or nuclear agents are involved in a permanent. But any process that transforms mostly straight hairs into permanently wavy, full bodied strands that assume unnatural, corkscrew positions for weeks at a time is probably unhealthy. Now admittedly, hair is not part of our body in that it is outside of our skin and has no internal organs. No one ever died of hair cancer, I guess. But it is attached for God's sake. And there is an alarming element of self-dissatisfaction in the inclination of many women to keep changing styles and colors. What's the point? Hey let's talk. I can relate, you know. I used to have a flattop. I'm in recovery now.

It is a source of some bewilderment to me that women are perpetually distressed by their own bodies. Here you have perfectly efficient, sexually sound and biologically correct bodies, all perfect in their own way. But a large percentage of women find fault with them. Obese is one thing, and anorexic is definitely another. But a few lumps here, some extra padding there, a little skimpy here, what's the big deal? Some guys wander around with cellulite oozing out of their shoe tops and their self-image perfectly intact. I don't get it. Lighten up, eh! How many of us will ever be in Sports Illustrated anyway?

In my opinion the fashion industry has taken a little bit of vanity and a lot of insecurity and boxed women in with them. The styles change annually, and women of even modest means are apparently forced to give up on perfectly good clothes that are in good repair and still fit and abandon them for shorter or longer or blockier or sleeker or brighter or lighter or whatever. Men don't have this problem. Not to the same extent. And women are smarter. This doesn't make sense. I am perplexed.

High heels. Now there's an idea! I consider these the inane equivalent of the bound feet which were all the rage in China several hundred years ago. It is true that women are no longer chased by saber-toothed tigers and therefore need not run quite as fast as they used to. But it does not follow that they should strap things on their feet that complicate or render painful the act of walking. Life's too short to spend it walking on your tippy toes. Am I making any sense? Or am I out of step again? I can never tell.

While we're on the subject of stupid fashions, let's discuss the panty girdle, the fanny enhancers, the waist cinchers, the whale-bone corsets and all those other instruments designed to do I'm-not-exactly-sure-what. I admit that I am befuddled that women have subjected themselves to these not-isolated means of humiliation over the centuries. And let's look into a future of tattooed eye shadow, nose rings and perma-tan. If I was a woman, I'd be pissed. All that and child bearing too!

But this is actually none of my business. Those who prefer under-wire support, spiked heels and pin curlers certainly don't need my permission. It's just that the world is complicated enough as it is. And the closer we get to the basics, the better we all are. If it makes you feel better, fine. But you needn't do it on my account.

Affectionately,

A Secret Admirer

Uncle Duke is currently on a fact-finding mission to France on behalf of the Christian Coalition. He is here reprinting one of his best loved and least read columns.