Perfect Zombie Girls

They’re perfect. Wearing the Perfect Girl's workout uniform: sports bra and bicycle shorts.

No secrets there.

But they don’t like secrets, they’re proud of their bodies and don’t mind who knows it. They’re happy for you to look. But don’t gaze too long or they’ll immobilize you with their patented, Perfect Zombie Death Stare™, before dismissing you as if they never saw you in the first place. One has to follow protocol, after all.

The perfect girls have every right to be proud; they work really hard to look like this. Look at that one, she's working hard right now, stretching her perfect muscles, back turned to the audience.

You can almost never tell how old the perfect zombie girls are. Women who hop on the plastic surgery treadmill usually wait until their late 30s-40s to take the leap, realizing, as many do, that it’s not going to get any better from here. They do their best to stop the clock for as long as possible, settling for that frozen look I personally find rather freakish.

Botox'd to the max, their expressions, on the rare occasion they break them out, can be scary. Their eyes can't crinkle with mirth and their mouths visibly struggle, as if they know that smiling and frowning are what created this trouble in the first place. Their perfect zombie foreheads simply don't move anymore. They can no longer manage a good shrug. Are they happy? Sad? Who knows? (Who cares?) If they're taking lip injections, the lips are almost never the right size - have you noticed that? Even after they've "calmed down." The word blubber comes to mind - with all of its various definitions.

It is one thing to see these women in People magazine (oh hush, you read it too) and say to yourself "silly actresses!" but it's another thing to see the perfect zombie girls at the gym, out and among the real (sweaty) people. It must be terrible for them.

The irony is that no matter how old they are in real life, as soon as they go under the knife or the needle, they immediately look older. Why? Because only people who are fighting the clock will consent to that frozen tightness. Remember Brazil? 

Young people have soft, supple skin. They can smile, frown, scowl, laugh and make monkey faces without worrying about permanent damage. No, despite what your mother said, your face won’t freeze up if you keep making that face. Not without $20,000 it won’t.

The perfect zombie girls know the face is only part of the formula. They may need professional help to fix the above-the-shoulders problems but the shoulders themselves can be fixed with 2-3 hours of gym a day, plus a little vomiting.

Lifting weights and doing cardio 5-7 times a week, their arms never jiggle.  Their thighs are so trim from doing squats they have to call to each other from across the chasm of Lululemon bicycle pants.  Their backs are ripped, and pretty if you don’t mind a few ribs. A cannibal would have to be pretty hungry to eat one. You’d need at least a half dozen or so to make a decent meal.

Time is rarely kind to the zombie girls. Borderline anorexic, the look is more Death Camp Barbie (Collector's Edition) than genuine fashion model. They cover up with fake tans and makeup because their skin is often angry with them for not putting enough good stuff inside them. Basic stuff like food and water.  There is no surgical procedure that can compensate for the lack of fat and hydration that keeps our skins happy and looking youthful. How ironic that overweight people invariably look younger and healthier than the perfect zombie girls. (They live longer too.)

Warming up in the stretching room, I see another Perfect Zombie from the back of the room. I usually mock them on sight, but there is something different about this one. I look her over: Great legs? Check. Not a drop of cellulite. Perfect arms? Check. Just look at those shoulders, she can wear any shirt she wants. Garbed in the perfect zombie girl workout uniform? You betcha. All 10% of her body fat. Uh oh, Karen. You’re staring again. If you’re not careful Medusa is going to catch you and turn you into a statue. And you need to lose another 10lbs before you’ll make a good statue.

The Perfect One turns around and I have to contain myself. She's at least sixty, quite possibly older. Wearing little makeup, she shows no obvious signs of plastic surgery. Her face looks positively human, even friendly. 

She's not a zombie after all! She's not even perfect. Well, not the way the zombies would define it. But for me, she's perfect in her imperfection. Her skin is plump and healthy looking, with some lines appropriate for a life well-lived. She looks as if she actually eats without vomiting. She's built like me, or rather, like I would be if I were 10x more fit. She's a strong, smiling senior citizen who could kick my ass around the block. 

I decide she is worthy of fandom. 

After years of going to the gym and staring at women I will never resemble, I’ve finally stumbled upon a role model, nay an idol, I can strive for. Healthy, strong and fit but far from zombie perfect, she is my new definition of perfection. 

 

Comments

[Patty]

There was one of those role models at the place I used to (sigh) work out too. She was at least 65-70 years old and I loved her and would watch her when it wasn't obvious I was. 20 years her junior I knew she could kick my ass too!

[Amanda]

Your lady is probably vegan! They seem to manage the aging process a little more gracefully then us omnivores. This is my type of role model too. We have a few in my yoga studio. We have lots of zombies around here too (not in yoga). I get "eyed" by them frequently. I can feel them "scanning" me. Don't really know why, but I suspect it is to identify my flaws to determine me as a non-competitor. Sad.

[Lakshmi]

For want of an intelligent comment worthy of the post, I can merely say, "great post".