FRESH YARN PRESENTS:

Divorced Rich Beverly Hills Ladies
By Kathy Najimy

When I got my salt scrub today, I heard the "salter?" "scrubber?" "shaker?"...well the EMPLOYEE person in the next room saying to her client... "Yes, in fact about 30% of our clientele are men. But mostly, they are Divorced Rich Beverly Hills Ladies." And she said this last part with such an air of exasperation that even though there was a wall between us, I swear I HEARD her eyes roll. Yes, even over the Johnny Tesh in the speakers... I HEARD her eyes roll.

And I thought (not out loud... my sternum was firmly pressed against a hard board I could hardly breath)! No, I thought: who were these ladies? These Divorced Rich Beverly Hills Ladies were not born like that were they? Not destined to be lifted and sucked and bored at museum luncheons? Not fated for loneliness, tight lips and hard hair. No, in fact, they were born free and beautiful. And hopeful and eager to find love. They probably only became Divorced Rich Beverly Hills Ladies because their rich husbands dropped them for someone more... What's the word they use nowadays?... Fuckable? I do think that is the word.... Fuckable.

Yes, probably dropped for someone the age of an Olsen Twin ... maybe someone with long straight natural hair and long thin legs who wears those Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirts with shorts that have JUICY written across their bottoms. Maybe a young photographer or an up and coming screenwriter. Yes, someone interesting. Maybe even a cellist, eh? Someone who can even make those horrible UGG boots look sexy. UGG! No, the Divorced Rich Beverly Hills Ladies were too busy having and raising children, too busy buying him gold toe socks at Barneys to stay interesting. Too busy with monogramming and decorating the house for the holidays, dealing with caterers, florists, flu's, furniture, weddings and college boards and chicken pox... Too busy supporting him in his business and social life, too busy to think of themselves and their expanding thighs or their unhealthy hair.... Too busy with prostates and WRAPPING ... oh god the wrapping!!!... Too busy to stay, and I must use my new favorite word, so I will... Fuckable.

And when they woke up and took a breath and looked around and the children were grown and he was off with "Ms. Ugg"....that is when they began the frantic, futile quest... that is exactly when they became a Divorced Rich Beverly Hills Lady. Getting things like rubbed and salted like a piece of fish... and not because they particularly LIKE it... I mean come on... a SALT scrub?... It's hard and rough and itchy!!! And not because they planned on it or for vanity's sake really... but because they were desperate to BE something else. Something better. No, the Divorced Rich Beverly Hills Ladies were never fated, in fact they were probably devoted, devoted... and dream bound. And the stitches and the hair spray and the chemical peel and the salt scrubs came way later. After the death of the dream. Oh, How poetic. Who do I think I am? JEWEL?

Women aren't born desperate. They don't start out a bitch. Women do not start out with compulsions and eating disorder suicides. They don't start out insecure, afraid and self-loathing. Women aren't born jealous, drunk, loud, overbearing or angry. They don't start out dependent or pitiful victims. They don't start out shamed and abused. And they certainly don't start out destined to become a Divorced Rich Beverly Hills Lady. They start out glorious.

Of course this was all still inside my head as I got salted.... I didn't want the "salter?" "scrubber?" "shaker?"... EMPLOYEE person to get offended and rub too hard. Oh and by the way all the salt scrub did was give me a rash and make me hungry for fries.

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