Air hostesses; a combination of real beauty (!), good, costly makeup (Lo’ Real blah blah blah)and award winning real life photo shopping. That applies to Caucasian females plying this trade. The dark skinned ones are of natural, flawless beauty.
The company i used to work for had lots of contracts with beach hotels and i got to see quite a number of hostesses, always the same size, height and color (the makeup that is). These ladies have always fascinated me especially considering the hectic life they have. Ok, i don’t they have a life at all. Life is being with your loved ones etc etc…..
I remember years back i read a book by Yusuf Dawoud (surgeon’s Diary) about a certain cute chic who was an air hostess. By all standards she was living the life of an affluent, young career woman but below the facade was a lonely, unsettled woman who was not at peace with herself and her family. The story line was fascinating and at some point i really felt for her. She wa Veronica or a name that closely resembles it.
At times i used to look at these ladies boarding the bus to the airport after having very few hours of sleep, all made up, flashy lipstick, manicured nails, high heels and what i perceived (i stand to be corrected here) to be stockings that matched their white skins. It was either stockings or purely flawless white skin.
They walk fast, these ladies, and majority of them are smokers. I presume the cigarettes were expensive, probably purchased in Milan or Guatemala.
I love Guatemala by the way! Read about it in Ganja planter to da’wah planter.
When these ladies are not on the plane they look, as per my observation, rather gloomy. They don’t smile as much as they do while at work.
I once got a chance to board a very big plane, Economy class of course and as i was walking down the aisle (that huge tunnel connected to the door of the plane) a paper white hostess was all smiles as she welcomed us. She muttered something amid the smile, could have been French, Guatemalan or English, which i presumed to be ‘welcome on board’.
So it made me wonder, if i was hungry, homeless and begging on the streets of Milan, and the same chic passed by me in my tattered Hakuna Matata t-shirt, on her way from purchasing her pack of cigarettes; would she smile at me the same way, and throw some Euros in my bowl?
Was her smile genuine, or just conditioned?
Is there a way to tell whether a smile is genuine or faux?
According to Duchenne De Boulogne, a French neurologist, genuine and fake smiles utilise completely distinct ensembles of facial muscles- most visible in the eyes, which crinkle in real smiles but remain unchanged in the faux ones.
The muscle that controls eye-smiling is called the Orbicularis Oculi, and its activation has proved to be a reliable indicator of internal happiness or mirth. Modern brain scans show that pleasure centres in the brain light up in sync with the orbicularis Oculi, but show no activity during fake smiles created with the mouth alone.
The next time you (this is for the ladies out there!) want to know if your boyfie or hubby is faking his smile after you surprise him with pink boxers (with a knitted Sylvestre the cat image) for his birthday, check out the outer edges of his eyebrows; if they don’t dip slightly when he smiles, he’s faking it.
Personally in my case it would be difficult for my wife to know whether my smile is fake after receiving the above pink gift; i would plant soo many genuine kisses on her neck, wear it and do a Johnny Bravo dance. Am cut out straight from a cartoon character…..
That’s how you survive such pink attacks!
Disclaimer: i am not a neurologist. The above excerpt about Duchenne blah blah blah and that orbicularis stuff is from an interesting book am reading called “Mind wide open” by Steven Johnson.