Make Me Beautiful or Pour Me a Cup of Coffee

There are some days, I look in the mirror and think "ooh, who is that old, tired lady hiding out in my bathroom?"  But generally by the time she's woken up, splashed some water on her face, and had a cup of coffee, she looks half-decent.  She kinda looks like me.

 

But apparently, the folks at one of my favorite monthly magazines, thinks I could do better.   Just a quick flip through the latest issue (August, September, this coming December - who knows) yielded no less than 16 ads for a crate of stuff I need to get from the make-up counter (there were maybe 7 or 8 before the first article).

All kinds of lotions and creams and serums to repair my broken cells, hydrate  my skin, erase my wrinkles, brighten my skin,  un-puff my eyes. That's all to make me look younger and healthy.  

That doesn't even count the crate of foundation, concealer, lipstick, lipgloss, eye shadow, eyeliner, lipliner, blush, mascara - what am I forgetting?  All that will make me naturally beautiful looking.  

Oh wait, still need to trim my hair, color my gray (can you really see them?), straighten my waves, curl it back, and put on a cute headband to make it all look so casual.

 

Now with a pair of control top thongs under my slimming jeans, so that I have nothing hanging over the top or visible panty lines, and push-up bra under a waist-cinching top, there will be little evidence of my fondness for chocolate cake and I'll look fit.

 

Wow.  That's a lot of work and my day is half over.  Maybe it's easier just to befriend that woman in the mirror and pour her a cup of coffee. 

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Effort of Maintenance

A great memory is not one of my strengths, however, if I could remember, I know I wouldn't count more than a dozen times that I've been to a hair salon and had a professional haircut and style. I have, or used to have, that easy, wavy, "wash & wear" kind of hair. Every now and then, my mother would trim the ends and some old friends may even recall that with a cup of mayo and a plastic cap, my hair was refreshed, deep conditioned, and shiny again. Yeah, my hair was that easy. But as I've gotten older, I've found that I am needing to spend more time and money on plucking, pulling, trimming, covering up, moisturizing, soaking, and manipulating. And getting more suggestions from beauty professionals of additional things I should pluck, wax, and cover up.

The concept of "maintenance of effort" in the education budget means, in layman's terms, that a school system must spend at least the same amount of money on each student as it did in the previous year. It can spend more, but not less; to spend less, the system would incur a penalty. I thought of that today (I know, too much time in too many PTA meetings) as I was getting my hair done. There's no going back, is there? I am past the days where a quick shampoo and condition will give me long, bouncy, waves. I can do it; often, when in a hurry, I'll rinse and condition and run off to run errands, but my hair is not the mane it once was. Where a swipe of lipgloss used to be enough, now I need a few minutes for a mini-makeover before getting out the door. Lets not even talk about a diet of Ruffles and Pepsi at twenty years old vs. now. When I was younger, walking across campus was enough exercise. Now, I've got to fit in a regular run and workout on an almost daily basis. To try to go backwards, a penalty would be incurred.

I believe the concept of maintenance of effort is to ensure that a system is in constant improvement. That at a sign of hardship, resources are not cut or diverted somewhere else. This concept forces us to take care of ourselves, whether there are braces and team uniforms to pay for and carpools to drive, a career to keep up, an aging parent to care for, or all of the above. Despite the fact that life gets busier and more complicated as we get older, we all want to continue to be our wonderful selves (we all do consider ourselves to be some kind of wonderful, right?). We have to at least make the effort of maintenance.

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Having a bad face day

 

It's few things that will keep me stayed in the house more so than a bad face day.  I suspect that's true for a lot of people, I don't think I'm alone in this self-consciousness.

Bad hair day?  Between aging curly locks and the weather always at some level of humidity, I suffer those on a regular basis.  Everyone has their own solution for days when your hair just doesn't want to cooperate.  Bed Head Stick is one of my personal standbys, assisted by a cute hat.  The hat, whether a fashionable slouchy hat or baseball cap, has to be somewhat presentable or that just makes it even worse. 

Broken foot, sprained finger?  Any bodily injury would be worn as a badge of honor.  Regardless of whether it occurred as a sporting accident, a clumsy fall, or a serious condition.   If we are able to be mobile, we will proudly go out, showing off all of our medical accessories, even cutely embellished.

But a bad face?  In the house.  You know what a bad face day is.  It's generally marked by a very large pimple or series of them in a prominent place on your face.  Or your kid swings a racket and accidentally hits it with you, causing a beautiful black & blue on your eye.  Or it can be your cheeks swollen like a

chipmunk from dental surgery.  Its some facial blemish not easily covered even by a good brush over of MAC. 

What can you do for such a thing?  You want to wear a button that says "I don't usually look like this!" for all those people you will never see again, or worse - those people you will!  But what can you do?  You can't hide forever.  So off I go.  And in case I feel the need to hide, I'm wearing a new scarf.