Donald Trump prefers a particular “type” of woman, and this has been remarked upon frequently since he resumed his tenancy at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. There is an actual term for Trump’s preferred type of female appearance: “Mar-a-Lago Face.”
It is more than just a collection of facial features, to be sure. His “central casting” kind of woman has slender legs, big boobs, and a perky derriere. She is attired in a pencil skirt, unless she is costume-loving Kristi Noem, who prefers to appear in themed outfits that make her look like a cross between Annie Oakley and GI Jane.
As most of us know, Trump likes his handmaidens to be camera-ready for their assigned roles at all times. One presumes that if Noem were to lead the FBI, we would see her attired as Sherlock Holmes or Inspector Clouseau. Every day is dress-up day for Kristi Noem. If she were the head of the South Dakota Sheep Ranchers Association, the woman who shot her own dog in a ditch would probably dress as Little Bo Peep.
But Mar-a-Lago Face is a real thing. The features of Mar-a-Lago Face include an upturned nose; suspiciously slanted eyes; lips the size of pool noodles; straight, white teeth; Botox; silicone filler; cheek implants; spray tans; chin lifts; fake eyelashes; and manicured brows. Throw on plenty of concealer, mascara, lipstick, eyeliner, and blush, and presto! You, too, can look like a tarted-up gargoyle. “Exhibit A” would probably be the freakishly over-corrected Kimberly Guilfoyle, the otherworldly ex-fiancé of both Gavin Newsome and Donald Trump Junior.
But Noem and Guilfoyle are not the only examples of the Mar-a-Lago Face phenomenon, not by a long shot. Pam Bondi, Melania Trump, Laura Loomer, half the women who live in Palm Beach, and any woman who wants unfettered access to the Commander-in-Creep have all been pushed, pulled, plumped, puffed, lasered, abraded, sliced, diced, and stitched back together to resemble alien life forms from a galaxy far, far away.
I daresay it is not cheap—nips and tucks never are. But now that Trump’s stable of sculpted female factotums are helping themselves to our money through their own unrestrained graft, I suspect their plastic surgeons are on speed-dial.
One of my favorite singer-songwriters is a genius named Susan Werner. It is not easy, I would imagine, to write a perfect song about plastic surgery, but she managed to do it. Here are the lyrics, never timelier than at this moment:
What did you do to your face?
Well hello, my old friend
How very wonderful to see you again
And I’m sure this probably isn’t quite the time or the place
But what did you do to your face?
I mean, what’s with the eyes?
You look like everything’s a total surprise
Like a hyper little hunting dog about to give chase
What did you do to your face?
‘Cause your nose is so small
So teeny-tiny, how do you breathe at all?
And your lips—balloons!
Overinflated as a pair of pontoons.
You look weird, you look… good?
You don’t look anything like anyone should
‘Cept for people from Los Angeles and deep outer space
What did you do to your face?
And you’ve smoother your brow
You got it flatter than Nevada somehow
And your chin’s tucked in
So tight your boobs go up whenever you grin
Hey, you’re right—I’m a jerk
(If you don’t mind my asking, who did the work?)
Do you think there’s any chance that they’d consider my case?
What did you do to your face
(Was it expensive?)
What did you do to your face
(And was it painful?)
What did you do to your face
(Would you go with me?)
What did you do to your face?
Give it a listen (you might have to endure an annoying commercial before the song plays, but I promise, it is worth the wait):
