Scratching the Surface

by Leslie

Julia was playing “makeover” one day with her vanity, putting on costume jewelry and fake make-up when Dave said, “I’m surprised she knows how to do that, considering you don’t wear that stuff.” At first, I was hurt - what a mean thing to say! Then, I thought about it and realized that he’s right. I really don’t wear make-up and jewelry, at least not anymore. Since I became a mom, a shower is the extent of my beauty routine. I feel pampered if I actually get to blow dry my hair after I wash it. If I’m really lucky, I’ll get the chance to throw on a little mascara.

I used to spend a lot of time on my clothes, hair and make-up. I worried a lot about my appearance and had a strict set of fashion rules that I followed faithfully. At the very least, I never wore an outfit more than once in two weeks and wouldn’t leave the house without my hair styled and make-up applied. Now, I’m down to this: Always wear a bra and never wear sweatpants in public.

Recently, I broke one of my cardinal rules. I wore sweatpants in public. Not only that, I wore a t-shirt with a giant glitter star on it. The fashion gods must have been angry with me because what happened next was the most humiliating experience of my life. And I’ve had some embarassing ones, most of which occurred in high school. Here are a few of them…

One time I read that a good way to get rid of puffy eyes was to hold cold spoons on them for a moment. Since I almost always wake up with puffy eyes, I thought I’d try it. I threw some spoons in the freezer one night before bed. The next morning, I woke up and walked to the freezer, rubbing my puffy, wet eyes. I grabbed the frozen spoons and placed them over the swollen skin. I was shocked by the cold and tried to pull the spoons away. Well, do you remember the Triple Dog Dare in “A Christmas Story” when Flick stuck his tongue to the flagpole? That’s what happened to my eyelids. My puffy, wet eyelids stuck to the spoons. It didn’t last too terribly long, but for that 30 seconds or so, I was in excruciating pain. And it was just enough time for my Dad to walk in and see me running in place, crying with spoons on my eyes (which is a story he still loves to tell). Worst of all, my eyes were still puffy. Probably from the crying.

I had also been convinced that I would be super-sexy with some blonde highlights in my hair. I begged my mom to buy me some Sun-In, which was all the rage with the girls in my class, but she wouldn’t do it. So, I did what I could. First, I tried putting some lemon juice in my hair and sitting in the sun. Didn’t work. Then, I tried vinegar. That didn’t work. Finally, I pulled out the big guns and used peroxide in my dark brown hair. For those of you who don’t know, peroxide doesn’t add highlights to dark brown hair, it turns it orange. Firey orange. I started my junior year looking like a clown, literally.

Additionally, I was certain that having a great tan would make me much more appealing. While that was easy to get in summer, I knew I’d have to resort to artificial tanning methods in the winter. I wasn’t allowed to go to the tanning salon, so I saved my allowance and bought some sunless tanning lotion. I followed the directions to the letter. I took a shower first. Then, I applied the lotion evenly over my skin and rubbed it in until the product was completely absorbed. I went to my room and waited anxiously while it dried. After the timer went off, I ran to the bathroom to take a look at my awesome new tan. But my new tan wasn’t awesome. It didn’t even look like a tan. My face and hands were a deep, dark unnatural brown while my neck, arms and legs were streaky, like someone had poured coffee on them. The rest of my body was covered with brown hand prints. It was horrific and impossible to cover up. I still cringe when I think of it.

Anyway, back to my most humiliating experience…

There I am, at the mall in my sweatpants and giant glitter star shirt, wearing no make-up. My hair is a stringy mess. I have dark circles under my eyes and a giant zit on my cheek from living on caffeinated beverages to make up for my recent lack of sleep. I look my very worst when I come face to face with my Mr. Big - the guy I had a huge crush on in high school. The guy I spent most of my life wanting. It’s true that I don’t want him anymore, but the last time he saw me, I was sexy and successful and HE wanted ME. I felt good knowing he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over missing out on me. That was until now. Now, I wasn’t looking so sexy. My sweatpants showed every one of the extra pounds I put on since I’d seen him last. I was so embarrassed that I cannot even tell you what I said or did to get out of the situation. I honestly don’t remember. It must have been pretty bad, because I’ve seemed to have blocked it out.

I had wasted so much time in the past trying to make myself visually pleasing to my Mr. Big. I had been so thrilled when I succeeded. I didn’t understand that even if he decided that he liked how I looked, it didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t interested in me. I left the mall and came home to my husband, who welcomed me home with a kiss and a hug. As he squeezed me tight and called me beautiful, I realized that all that stuff doesn’t really matter.

Now I need to do my best to make sure it doesn’t take Julia 30 years to figure that out, too.

Posted in Mommy's Stuff |

Comments

1 Cool Kid Came To Play

My Mommy’s Place: Mommy’s Blog » Blog Archive » Whoever Said “Poopy Happens” Must Have Been A Mom on September 13, 2006 6:17 pm
[…] The children played and the moms talked. At one point, the subject of this blog and corresponding website came up. I was really excited to talk about it and started to tell them how My Mommy’s Place began and what I hoped to achieve through it. As I went on, the poopy stench encroached upon our area. It was like a Peppy Le Pew cartoon where the swirling, green aroma creeps up and tickles the nose of helpless victims whose eyes bug out just before they lose consciousness. Trying to ignore it, I kept right on talking about this post where I did the unthinkable and wore sweatpants in public. […]