Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Tattoos, big bottoms a no-no for Beijing Olympic hostesses.

Friday, June 8, 2007

BEIJING (AFP) - For women hoping to become hostesses at next year's Olympic Games medal ceremonies, here come the criteria: no tattoos, no big bottoms, and cut down on the earrings.
Tattoos and earrings tend to look sleazy, while big bottoms could stick out too much, state media reported Friday, quoting officials selecting candidates for medal ceremonies and other protocol activities.
Selection is currently under way to find hostesses for Olympic test events taking place later this year and early next year in the run-up to the August, 2008 Games in the Chinese capital.
According to the Beijing News, 208 hostesses are needed for 23 test events in a selection process which, although separate from the Olympics next year, offers successful candidates hope of being considered for the Games.
"We don't want anyone who looks in any way sleazy because that could really put athletes off," said Li Ning, principal of Beijing Institute of Protocol, who is heading the selection process.
She said experts were looking for women of uniform height with neat bottoms and minus body art and ear studs. Glossy skin was another asset.


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This article was notable for many reasons, but there was one thing that confused me - I have yet to see a Chinese with a big bottom.

My theory explaining the lack of Chinese booty begins in infancy. Chinese baby clothes are split up the bottom, so all the little kid has to do is take a squat where ever he or she happens to be. This is true even in the winter when the babies are wearing so many clothes they look like marshmallows with puffy limbs. But their tiny butts are left to weather the elements. Since they are not warmed at all, their bottoms cannot grow and they are left with nothing; just the tops of their legs.

I suppose they could be stricter with the requirements and require uniform hair and eye color...

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Salon de Kali: Part Deux

Monetary extortion is something I have gotten used to as a foreigner here. Vendors will charge me 3 yuan for a bottle of water and a Chinese person 1.5 yuan. This foreign gratuity extends to bigger items like clothes, bags, fans, etc. I am looking to remedy this situation soon by learning some handy phrases like, “You must be out of your mind asking 3 kuai for a bottle of water!” and, “Just because I’m foreign doesn’t mean I don’t know how much a shirt should cost!”

Tom has needed a haircut for a while. The weekend was pretty relaxed since we had the previous three days off, so yesterday afternoon he went out to pick up some drinks and get his haircut while I made lunch. I found canned tuna, mayo, mustard, and Tabasco in the grocery store on Saturday, so I made tuna salad for lunch and let it chill in the fridge while I waited for Tom.

When he got back, his hair looked exactly the same. He said the place he got his hair cut last time was closed (remember how things close for an hour and a half to two hours during lunch here?) so he went next door and they told him they would cut his hair – for 50 yuan. That’s only about $6.50, pretty cheap, except that at the other place it cost only 5 yuan, or 65 cents. Tom was very put off by this and walked away.

Over dinner that evening Tom convinced me to cut his hair. I have only cut hair on a person one other time and that was my own hair. At the time, my hair was curly and out of control and I justified my hacking away with the theory that it couldn’t get worse. It turned out okay, but I probably wouldn’t do it again.

After making Tom promise he wouldn’t tell anyone who cut his hair if it looked awful I agreed to try it. I put Walk the Line on to distract him while I snipped away with the giant scissors, punctuating my scissoring every now and then with an, “Uht oh,” or an, “Oops.” I stood in front of him and furrowed my brow, looking worried. It was not just for effect, I really was worried.

Surprisingly, his hair ended up looking quite good. I am thinking of staying in China and becoming a hairdresser. Maybe I missed my calling.

A satisfied customer.