According to county law, these claws are my legal right

I received e-mail from my plastic aunt, thus called because, while she herself has not been subjected to much insertion of plastic beyond the occasional liposuction, her daughters are walking petroleum reserves. Her e-mail was to inform me that one of my Miracle Science Cousins has been admitted to USC film school.

While e-mail from her may not normally be irksome communication, this particular one bothered me a great deal. Although it is likely without conscious thought, my aunt never misses an opportunity to boast about the superiority of her family in comparison with mine.

My beloved aunt (obviously another relation) once subjected herself to attending the annual country club luncheon with my good-hearted, loyal mother after all her children had rebelled against the necessity of meeting an ongoing line of ‘important’ people while having our clothes, hair, and (I kid you not) genetic code critiqued. My dear aunt had told me on several occasions that we were being unkind to PA and that she couldn’t be as bad as we said. Dear Aunt dressed in a normally acceptable black outfit that she had worn to luncheons with CEOs of major corporations (Dear Aunt was an executive secretary for the VPs of Thiokol and Iomega). She left at 10:00 for the 11:30 luncheon. At 1:30, Dear Aunt returned. I remarked that she was home early, considering the event was to close at 3:30. Dear Aunt replied subtly, “I have learned that not ALL your stories are exaggerated.” Dear Aunt had claimed illness when PA started to proclaim no one wears black any more because this was the year of color according to “all” of her friends.

If PA’s friends had last names of Versace or Wang, then I would likely hearken to her advice, but her friends are a socially eager group of Salt Lake City doctors. This is really PA’s trouble. Her father was some kind of oil magnum in the 1960s. PA married my uncle, an ophthalmologist, with the hopes that he would help her continue that lifestyle. Somehow, she and Plastic Uncle never achieved the upper crust (according to my aunt the large nature of our noses weakens our capacity for social advancement).

Her daughters remain her last hope of true society. Miracle Science Cousin 1 received a new nose at 14, then breasts and liposuction at 16. This was insufficient, obviously, because MSC1 went to University of Utah and is rarely mentioned in her mother’s irksome communications.

MSC2 received all the same surgery PLUS cheekbones sculpted, eyebrows lifted AND botox. The combination proved effective. After hearing me sing at my grandfather’s funeral, MSC2 requested vocal training. She was shipped off to an expensive art school, provided the top acting and vocal coaches (at least in her mother’s opinion), and flown about the country for auditions and performances. For Christmas this year, the family e-mail consisted of a picture of one of MSC2’s competitions. The caption (again, no joke) read, “______ is the 3rd from the right.” How much plastic surgery has she had? Enough to render her unrecognizable to her own family!

Now, she has been admitted to USC. The irksome piece of this is that PA’s “success” with MSC2 leads her to pass along unnecessary advice to her sub-standard relations. In turn, my siblings and I have been lectured on weight loss, plastic surgery, home decoration, career choices and appropriate foreign languages (the fact that we speak Spanish is absolutely abhorrent to her). In my case, if I were to shave an inch of my nose, several inches off both thighs, wear immodest clothing, drink (I don’t drink at all) and learn french or italian, I would have a “better life.”

Every member of my family will gladly admit that, not only do we not have the wealth, beauty or fame of MSC2, but also we don’t care! My mother successfully raised 4 intelligent, drug-free children. My father had a good career as a psychologist in a small town. My sister has two beautiful children, but will never be wealthy. My brother is respected in his field. I abandoned music after spending a year watching children starve in a developing nation; and my youngest brother is progressing nicely towards a happy life with a beautiful wife and 8 children. Family matters most to us and that’s what we have.

Of course, none of that will stop me from screaming madly into a pillow when MSC2 accepts here Oscar statuette. Nor will it stop my aunt from issuing the “look what I purchased for my silicone-based life form” e-mail. Hee, hee. Now, THAT was catty.