Tuesday, May 18, 2010
PSA
If you can't remember the last time you changed the toothbrushes, do it today. You might be thinking, "Hmmm, good point. But why should I change his toothbrush? Can't a grown man be responsible for the basics of his own personal care?" The short answer is, "No."
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Turkey on Your Birthday
As my birthday neared (after which I could still be considered middle-aged but just barely), I was getting my hair colored and cut, so I could face the world with a dazzling smile. I'd been sporting a coif reminiscent of a dowdier Laura Bush (I know) but was updating to what I term a Full Pelosi. That was when I saw it. The turkey wattle. Now, I'd been noticing that my dear husband has been hanging low around the jawline for a while. I felt a little bad for him, because I knew he'd be upset if he realized, though I couldn't care less. Since I'm younger than he (by nearly 1000 days), I also felt a little smug, proud of my taut mandibular. That was then.
As I sat before the salon mirror, I could have gasped. Normally before I catch my reflection, I arrange my face and stretch my neck. At a quarter profile and without my glasses, I look like I have for the past twenty years (I thought). Once you're wattled, though, that's pretty much that. This is how old I now am: after my horrible discovery I (no lie) thought, "Oh well, maybe I can get a quick nap before she needs to wash out my color."
Later, while in line at Kohl's, I studied the woman checking out in front of me. She was probably 80, with bleached blonde hair, lots of make-up, a newsboy cap, and leather pants. Leather pants! I snickered to myself, because a) at least I'm not that old, and b) what a get-up. Then it hit me that she got up in the morning and made a bit of an effort. Though my hair was freshly done and I do wear eye make-up every day, I pretty much have thrown in the towel. From then on, I've been trying to keep that towel picked up.
I've always liked this quote by Isaac Mizrahi that I clipped from a magazine in 1998. He said:
I don't care. I don't judge. Like, I was at a dinner one night and somebody said, "Look at her," and I said, "She's having fun, what's wrong with her?" She looked a mess, but she was having a lot of fun, and she thought she looked great. And I wasn't having a lot of fun, and I thought I looked great too. So there was something she was doing that I was doing wrong. And this guy said to me, "We are men of taste." And I thought, "Not me, honey."
As I sat before the salon mirror, I could have gasped. Normally before I catch my reflection, I arrange my face and stretch my neck. At a quarter profile and without my glasses, I look like I have for the past twenty years (I thought). Once you're wattled, though, that's pretty much that. This is how old I now am: after my horrible discovery I (no lie) thought, "Oh well, maybe I can get a quick nap before she needs to wash out my color."
Later, while in line at Kohl's, I studied the woman checking out in front of me. She was probably 80, with bleached blonde hair, lots of make-up, a newsboy cap, and leather pants. Leather pants! I snickered to myself, because a) at least I'm not that old, and b) what a get-up. Then it hit me that she got up in the morning and made a bit of an effort. Though my hair was freshly done and I do wear eye make-up every day, I pretty much have thrown in the towel. From then on, I've been trying to keep that towel picked up.
I've always liked this quote by Isaac Mizrahi that I clipped from a magazine in 1998. He said:
I don't care. I don't judge. Like, I was at a dinner one night and somebody said, "Look at her," and I said, "She's having fun, what's wrong with her?" She looked a mess, but she was having a lot of fun, and she thought she looked great. And I wasn't having a lot of fun, and I thought I looked great too. So there was something she was doing that I was doing wrong. And this guy said to me, "We are men of taste." And I thought, "Not me, honey."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
