My mother used to tell me “Pretty is as pretty does.”
But, at this point, pretty is doing me to death. I no longer have
enough hours in the day to complete the fifty or sixty procedures
that are “an absolute must.”
The essential beauty regimens – each one promises “just
five minutes a day!” are all that stand between me and the ravages
of time. My face must be must cleansed, toned, refreshed, rejuvenated,
exfoliated, buffed, refined, clarified, moisturized, antioxidized
and UV protected. My hair must be washed, conditioned, color enhanced,
lanolin-enriched, highlighted, hot-rollered, revitalized, volumized,
moussed and spritzed. My teeth must be cleaned, flossed, brushed,
rinsed, whitened and tarter-controlled, gums massaged and disinfected,
breath fresh and minty.
My wannabe beautiful hands cry out for emollients, cuticle creams,
dry skin treatments, fade lotion and beautiful nails, to be buffed,
filed, nourished, strengthened, undercoated, varnished, topcoated
and shimmered. Feet have to be soaked, sanitized, creamed; toenails
softened, trimmed and tinted.
Each night, I go to bed later and later.
In the morning, I crawl into aroma-therapeutic water, ward off cellulite
with a vigorous loofah rub, smooth my feet with a walnut scrub, lubricate
my outermost cellular layer with vitamin-enriched body wash, then
lather, depilitate, deodorize and invigorate what’s left of
me.
At some point today, I need to actually go to work.
Before makeup comes the cleanser, astringent, under makeup-moisturizer,
eye cream and SP15 skin brightener. :Finally, showtime- eyeliner,
lip liner, plumping, non- clumping mascara and oil free, pore refining,
environmentally safe, no animal testing, foundation. Concealer covers
the dark circles. I paint an arched eyebrow and add pale yellow shadow
underneath to look awake, stroke brown shadow on my lids to distract
attention from the sleepless red eyes. An actual blush is beyond me,
so I choose an area that should be a cheekbone and brush on a wide
swath of “Mod Mauve”. The revitalizing, moisture-beaded,
super-shine lipstick is blended, blotted and lightly powdered in place.
Rembrandt didn’t have as many brushes as I do.
It’s done. This is as good as I am going to look.
It is not enough. My body has betrayed me, from top to bottom, in
ways and places that I am just now discovering. Every day, I find
some new point of disaster on my person. What happened to my NECK?
When did my smile lines reach my hairline? How could I possibly have
a zit and wrinkles? Good Grief. What is THAT?
Threatened with vacation, I scurry to shop for floor length T-shirts
and a turtle neck bathing suit, cursing the gene pool that produced
these thighs. The stem to stern bikini wax will take a vat of paraffin.
I have met the enemy, and it is me. I will not surrender without
a fight, but the dark side is steadily encroaching. It was always
my intent to grow old gracefully. I just didn’t intend to start
so soon. On the bright side, they say after a while people begin to
resemble their pets. Thank goodness the bulldog died.
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