Beauty is…your perfect (fill in the blank.) And by perfect, I mean thinner and thinner and thinner anything and everything. And now, in the thick of the “new thirties” decade, I add smoother, smoother, and smoother plus tighter, tighter and tighter. All skin and wrinkle related if you follow me. Do we ever arrive at the perfect anything? Wrinkles and weight, can we ever be satisfied?
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| “Teen” Me |
This obsession with perfection starts young. Why did I ever complain in my twenties? In my first job out of college, I once considered smoking so I would age just enough to give me credibility as a budding sales rep. I wanted wrinkles and a deeper voice. Who wants to buy a mail machine for a growing business from a “teenager” in a business suit? And, my god, I actually wore belts back then and could wear belts; I felt thick. Maybe it was the constricting high-waist pants with a belt? It was a fashion privilege and I couldn’t see it.
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| EEW! |
Other fashion at the end of the 80s and into the 90s was fantastic for hiding everything, including skinniness. Baggy clothes were such an injustice for the young. Somebody dressed Meg Ryan like a sloppy sack of potatoes and fashion police gave her the thumbs up! This was our model? And don’t get me started on oversized shirts and stretch pants with STIRRUPS! And we still wanted to be thinner! Why did we feel this way, because the clothes looked baggier? What were we thinking? We should have stuffed ourselves silly; nobody would know.
I’m glad I didn’t have babies in my twenties, but for fashions’ sake, it sure would have been a lot more convenient. I wouldn’t have needed maternity clothes at all and could have saved a bundle! Instead, my babies came while Brittany Spears’ attire drove the fashion rage, as in flash a little tummy skin, perhaps sport a belly button ring. Even after delivery, woe is me, no-can-do Brittany. My muffin top was a fallen soufflé. And for me, that pre-pregnancy weight is always just out of reach, even after 12 years. If only I could/would drop the glass of wine or chocolate chip cookie.
I didn’t pay much attention to the wrinkle factor until I decided to join the progressive end of society and get on facebook. For the longest time, I was faceless. I didn’t know how to load a picture. Picking a worthy mug shot was another dilemma. I thought all the baby pictures or travel-spot profile pics were cool, creative and secret. Weirdoes wouldn’t know what the person REALLY looked like, a safety measure. (I’m always thinking about those inhabitants of the Internet’s dark side.) In a way, however, they are almost more revealing because it’s a picture of the inside of a person, a side we don’t ever see and an excellent mask for wrinkles. Smart.
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| Kindergarten Me |
When you think about it, most photos of us include the full body so the crinkles seem miniscule and a non-issue. Who likes taking pictures of themselves? I don’t. The only close-ups we have of ourselves are from grade school through about 11th grade…no wrinkles, just crooked bangs or geeky glasses. I was lucky enough to have both.
So, when I started my blog, I thought, “I better get a picture, one for facebook and one for my blog.” This was worse than looking in a mirror. I tried the photo booth on my Mac and then with my iphone. EGADS! Where did all the deep crevices and folds come from? I learned to use the photo-editing tools VERY quickly; it’s kind of like giving a doll a makeover: blush brush, lighting, cover stick. Fabulous! (I’ve only done it once.)
At this point in life, I have also come to appreciate an amateur photographer, one that can’t hold the camera still, thus blurs the lines, ha, ha, ha. If all you need is a postage-stamp size photo, what the heck? I must confess, a real photographer fixed me up well for my social media self. She saw my handy-work and knew she could put out good, honest stuff. My friend Wendy of Wendy McClain Photography made me look like me, no tricks. Beauty is in there, just gotta get the right photo “fit” with an expert.
Our So-Cal gals are lamenting over the same stuff, at least two of them anyway. On a recent trip to Santa Barbara, I couldn’t help but overhear two ladies covering the weight and wrinkles dilemma. My family and I are inhaling the best chocolate croissants and egg dishes for breakfast. The tables are tight so they are talking to the back of my head. “The last two years aren’t too bad. My wrinkles don’t bother me too much yet.” To which an older woman replies, “Oh, I’ve been getting filler for years!” (She does not mean for acrylic nails. I don’t know how I know this.) “Did you see the ads for Dr. So-and-So? Sharon Stone was in that one.” Then the conversation turned to BMI, or Body Mass Index. Wow, this crowd takes female woes to a much more sophisticated, almost scientific level. I bet they didn’t eat the croissants.
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| Honduras Gold Standard |
What’s a girl to do? Those So-Cal girls are so-not-me. Isn’t it true beauty is supposed to come from within? Suddenly I know my solution, at least one I can test without reservation: Eat chocolate. I heard a radio news story announcing, “Chocolate can make you thinner.” I couldn’t pump up the volume fast enough. I wish I had Tivo for the radio so I could back up that statement at that moment. Instead, I went to the web and sure enough, the study is out! Of course everything in moderation and it must be dark chocolate, the serious stuff. After more “googling”, I learned chocolate can help your complexion too, as in preventing wrinkles and promoting healthier skin.
This is a beautiful world after all and the beautiful things in it make us all beautiful and happy, from the inside. We don’t need fake fillers, just tasty ones. I’m in!
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