Here's To Silly!

Makeup and I have an interesting relationship. I love trying new things and a new eyeshadow or lipgloss can pretty much always make my day better (me? buy three new lipglosses the day before going on a date with a boy that I really liked, just because somehow it gave me more confidence? maybe.). However, I'd like to imagine that I'm that totally awesomely gorgeous granola who needs no makeup to show the world her gloriousness. I used to go through stages. Once, dating a very pretty boy who always wore cologne and matchy clothes, I warned him that the daily makeup stage was bound to end soon. I'd like to believe that's not why he dumped me, but I may never know. That was seven years ago and I've been wearing daily makeup ever since. Not sure why. But I am sure that I recently made some drastic changes to my routine, which are DELIGHTFUL!
First was reading a friend's blog (to which I would provide a link, but I can't find it becaused it's been a while and she doesn't have a search option on her blog) about red lipstick. I remembered the glory days when a friend of mine described me as the girl who wore dark lipstick to church. Much time had passed since then and I wanted to return. Enter a sale on Maybelline's new lipgloss, which is basically eternal. I had to try it. What a delight! Bright red lips forever. The forever part lost some of its appeal when I had to use a sandblaster to get it off my face at night. Once I was introduced to an effective remover however, I augmented my collection with another shade and moved on to the next connundrum - ze cheeks.


I'd read that blush should be the color I turn naturally when flushed. One day after working out, I looked in the mirror and realized that my peachy-browny blush was doing me no good. I also am now 30 and aging quickly, so I took to heart the advice to find a cream blush, as it makes one look younger. ;) I found it and I love it, I think. It's very pink and when I first put it on I felt like the seventh grade me on picture day when Mamar said to me right before stepping in front of the camera "Oh, I wish you would've told me you were going to wear makeup." Le sigh. For years after, she tried to instruct me on blush application. Sigh, I must've been a poor student. The first few times I put on my new blush, I felt like a ridiculous low-end doll that was painted by a hyperactive child forced into slave labor that had to meet a certain daily quota or certain death. It wasn't pretty. There was bright Peony-color everywhere. Then, something changed. Perhaps it's the sheer nature of my new tint, perhaps with practice my abilities are soaring. I do certainly look younger and fresher and ready for summer. Almost dewy, in fact.

Conclusion: I never meant to be that girl who wears daily makeup. Inside, I sort of make fun of her for not being able to leave the house without war paint. Still, as long as I am playing the part, I might as well look good and have fun doing it.

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The past two days have brought me a couple of variant experiences. Yesterday I met a strange man in a parking lot to sell him a mirror I had listed on Craigslist (an entirely different subject entirely. It's so strange to give my stuff to strangers. It's definitely a multi-leveled emotional journey. But not the topic of what I'm here to say today). He was very friendly, even invited me to his church, and was explaining to me how the mirror was for his teenage daughter. You know how teenagers are. . . . And then it came. He asked me if I had any teenagers. Wait, WHAT? I mean, I know I turned 30 recently and all, but TEENAGERS? REALLY? Of course I know it is biologically possible, but really? How could someone think I would be the parent of teenagers before I've even had one baby? Ridiculous. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that he had really only seen me from behind as I was struggling to finagle the mirror out of my car (does that mean I look wide as though I've given birth to many a child? Wo is me!) and so he really was just making conversation and not a judgment on my age. Sigh.

On the other end of the spectrum, today as Wonderman and I were getting into the car in the parking lot at Fry's, he mentioned to me that I should look up because "they" were waving at me. When I looked up, there was a minivan full of teenage boys, grinning and waving. And when I say "teenage," I don't mean 17-ish. I mean 13-14-ish. Not that that makes a huge difference. When I smiled at them, they fell into their boyish giggles and had to close the door to the minivan in embarrassment or to hide their swooning. Either they were instantly smitten by my intoxicating beauty or I had toilet paper stuck to me in some distractingly embarrassing way. As I found no toilet paper, I am forced to believe it was the first. So strange. One day being supposed the mother of multiple teenagers, the next being hit on by multiple teenagers.

ps - simply as an update to my previous post. almost immediately following the writing of said post, I went and did Jillian's 20 minutes. however, as I did it, the pain began to feel more like an injury and less like achy muscles, so I decided to take a few days off. I haven't done it since, and I feel great. I went to the gym yesterday with Wonderman and lifted weights and did my own cardio, and I'm just regular sore. You know, the kind of sore that makes it feel like slow-motion when you lift your arm to scratch your nose? That kind of sore. Anyway, Jillian may be the latest craze to sweep the nation, but I think I'll stick with being my own trainer and, as Jillian would say, phoning it in at the gym. So, if anyone wants to buy a discounted copy of Jillian's 30-Day Shred, just let me know.

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