Word: fleshed
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...creating herself: taking three husbands and countless lovers, both male and female; exploring the Paris demimonde; even, strapped for cash, starting a beauty business at age 58. Such a life--one that has been copiously documented, by Colette and others--presents Judith Thurman, author of Secrets of the Flesh: A Life of Colette (Knopf; 592 pages; $30), with both an embarrassment of riches and a Sisyphean task. Despite working on this book for nine years, Thurman, who won a National Book Award in 1983 for her biography of Isak Dinesen (and has been nominated again for this book), acknowledges that...
Furthermore, the rules governing Title IX compliance with respect to academic programs has never been ironed out--only a court can flesh out the law's official interpretation, but no school wants to be the legal guinea pig. As a result, most schools have been wary of instituting single-sex academic programs that could open them up to a legal challenge...
...seance, makes an audience sit up, take notice, realize just how much water has passed beneath the bridge. Also: A grander grandeur accrues to the long-past achievement as we reflect on how many human generations have come and gone in the interim ? not only how frail is the flesh, but how rare was the deed. Such a bygone event, hearkened, creates nostalgia and longing. That must have been wonderful, to be in audience as those fathers bravely brought forth...
...fiendish helper claps goggles onto my eyes. I tense. A searing sensation rips into my face. As the laser traces tiny spider veins across my cheek, zapping them into oblivion, I hear a faint pop, pop, pop. It begins to sting. Yeow, I swear silently. Is that burning flesh I smell? Hey, Doc? Owww. Yeowww! DOC! Dr. Harold Lancer, my Beverly Hills dermatologist, is laughing. He had warned me to take some Valium before the procedure (or risk scaring off his celebrity clients, no doubt). I can't stand any more. "Ye-ooowww!!" I yell out loud. Then...
...wore a backless dress. Every other bride wears bows and bustles and basically a 3-to-1 ratio of fabric-to-woman, but my mom was bent on destroying my theory that this was one of those nursing home-companion marriages. I realized after seeing all that exposed flesh that there was no way Pamela Anderson's kids would grow...