It Takes Pains to Be Beautiful but I’m No Masochist

My neighbor is a hair stylist. Last year or the one before, I set an appointment with her and got ready for it. I put in contact lenses, dressed in actual clothes, and applied my usual round of makeup.

After she worked her magic and I admired the results in the mirror, she said, “This is the time you go home, put on your makeup, and take a selfie.”

I didn’t tell her that was about as made-up as I got.

I also didn’t tell her that I don’t take selfies.

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Granted, I have negative thoughts and poor self-esteem and little support or encouragement from people I know in real life. Those things may contribute to the anti-selfie-thing. Mostly, I tell myself, I avoid preening and self-photography because it’s selfish, shallow, and silly.

Whether anyone agrees with me or no, we’ve probably all noticed that one cannot go through life without any pictures being taken. If the old superstitions regarding photography are correct; my local gym, Costco, and the DMV all stole a piece of my soul. But when I consider voluntarily sharing my face all over the place like a peacock, I instead turn into a turtle.

The same is true of beauty tips and tricks, makeup, spa treatments, Botox, tummy tucks, hair removals, and other alterations women make to screw up enhance their natural beauty.

To me: it’s weird, verging on wrong.

Recently on TwoFacebook, one of my neighbors invited everyone to a Botox Party. We-e-e-ell -it was a cheaper version of the same thing. As I read people’s comments I came to realize the event was like Tupperware Parties of old, except women showed up to inject themselves and not to preserve leftovers. (In a way, they are still preserving leftovers.)

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I realize I may have a less-desperate perspective because I am younger. I haven’t started coloring my hair yet, though my boys seem determined to hasten that greying process.

Yet as I do age, I notice signs of the process that are less attractive. My body weight has shifted. I have eye lines at the corners. My lips, never much darker than my pale skin to begin with, have disappeared and require coloring if I want someone to find them.

I’d postulate that I may embrace more of these treatments as I age, yet also know I will always feel a slight shudder at the prospect. I really and truly wish we could all stop with so much makeup and injections. I wish we could all age gracefully and all be okay with that.

Instead I find much older women with blonde hair, fake eyelashes, and skin that resembles a folded potato. How many times did that woman go tanning? Nip a fat layer? Inject her face? Kill her roots with that color?

Ugh.

Where do you stand? Do you like women who are wearing so much makeup they used a trowel to apply it? Are you in favor of all this ‘mainstream’ plastic surgery these days? Is beauty only skin deep and is this how we unearth it?

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—————

They may not be selfie-worth, but here’s what I wrote this week:
Wednesday, February 27: Wrote “The Power of the Word,” a short dive into wordcrafting and wordplay.
Thursday, February 28: “The Cure for Depression: Get Up and MOVE,” another suggestion in a series originally posted over at The Bipolar Writer Mental Health Blog.
Friday, March 1: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Furious Pockets!
Saturday, March 2: Announced the 16th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. Something about stories with a moral. PLEASE ENTER!
Plus, I posted a picture of my totally-not-dated St. Patrick’s Day t-shirt. For those hecklers, that is my perhaps my fourth selfie ever taken.
Sunday
, March 3: “Right Quite Not Something’s,” my poem entry for Carrot Ranch‘s prompt this week. Da Vinci shook hands with Yoda while readers eyes’ crossed.
Monday, March 4: “Wilhelmina Winters, Eighty-Four.”
Tuesday, March 5:  An inspirational quote by Brian Tracy.
Wednesday, March 6: Today.

I also posted all this week at my motherhood site. I wrote about supporting mothers, how boys smell, and why quiet time is suspicious time.

That’s not all! I wrote a piece for Kids are the Worst titled “Screaming Kids? I’ve Got a Music Playlist for That.” It’s very helpful. Trust me.

 

Photo Credit:
Photo by Omar Lopez on Unsplash
Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash
Photo by yunona uritsky on Unsplash
Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

This week I only had four entries. While this made judging a tiny bit easier, I also felt a touch sad that more people couldn’t fulfill their New Year’s Resolutions of writing more terrible poetry in a formal format.

That’s not to say the decision of who to crown wasn’t difficult. In the end, this one took the prize:

I don’t need no resolutions

by RhScribbles

I don’t need no resolutions
It ain’t in the constitution
What’s up with that
He said, with the hat
On his head
That he said
He would wear until he died
No absolution
Resolve to die?
Uh why?
I don’t wanna
Make restitution
He’s gotta wear a hat on his head
No lie
No revolutions
Just resolutions

Yay, Ruth! You’ve done it again!

Hers and another’s were neck-and-neck for first place. I decided that Ruth’s lack of direction saved the day again. I mean, what is with the hat?

I also love her rhymes that show up when they are supposed to but also when they probably shouldn’t, and her bad meter.

I’m not saying the others didn’t have plenty of awfulness and humor. Here they are, in order of submission:

New Year’s Day Resolutions

by Greygirlieandme

Are made to be broken.
Like my heart, given to you as a token,
when my love was awoken.

Maybe I can lose some weight
If I send it back to you, wrapped in hate.
Then you can serve it on a plate.

There, that’s one kept.

Without my heart I’d be less bitter,
Although I might not be fitter.
And what a post to put on Twitter.

Half and half on that one then.

Maybe I’ll run it round myself,
Leave it on your windowshelf.
Topped by your stupid Christmas elf.

Yep, that’s exercise done.

Perhaps I’ll no longer drink red wine,
There’ll be no need, I’ll be just fine
You made me drink it, your taste not mine.

Hey, another one ticked.

But now here’s one I won’t stick to
I must stop really wanting you.

—–

Resolutions Derailed

by Molly Stevens

It’s New Year’s Day so what do you say?
Is it time to make a resolution?
Nothing radical. Nothing tragical.
After all it’s not a revolution
Eating more vegetables and fruit
Is now an action for dispute.
Listeria! Hysteria!
E. coli! Holy Moly!

Can I get into shape, wriggle and rock?
Stop pushing snooze on the alarm clock?
How about stashing cash and accruing fortitude
By driving fast past fast food?

But officer, I can explain.
I was merely a passenger
On the self-improvement train.
Choo! Choo! Boo! Hoo!

A ticket for driving at breakneck speed
While I was merely trying not to overfeed?
I’m suing McDonald’s for this misdeed,
And I’ve got a terrific chance to succeed.

Don’t lecture me about eating no fat,
Do you think I’m related to joyless Jack Sprat?
I’m out of time for idle chitchat.
Yes, of course, I want fries with that!

Choo! Choo! Chew! Chew!

—–

Resolution Sonnet

by Bruce Goodman

The megapixel race
is a disgrace.
Photographs may have been getting clearer
but the megapixel camera phones seem to be getting dearer.
Let’s hope that in 2019 camera resolutions will peak
and we’ll all get cheaper photos, so to speak.
In the meantime I’m going to eat lots of chocolait
while I wait
and hope that my resolve
doesn’t dissolve
like it did last year
when I decided to wear
nothing but outrageous wraps
in order to look gorgeous in high resolution snaps.

Many who entered slipped back into the ‘too pretty’ area of verse. Let go your meter, your patterns, your main topics, and your artistic sensibilities. Then, enter tomorrow for next week’s competition.

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