Back in the day, I was approached by a customer who was hoping for assistance in the body care aisle. She was tall, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and had a perfect complexion. From her accent, I believe she was Swedish. She asked me, with her sweet delicate voice, “I was thinking that I could use a little makeup, no?” When I realized that this statuesque woman wasn’t even wearing makeup, I think I may have unintentionally stated out loud, “God just gave you everything, didn’t he.”
I, on the other hand, was not. Yes, I’m tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, but I am also overweight and battle with my skin. As a teenager, of course I had pimples, but more so blackheads and whiteheads. My mother would use the edge of a butter knife to attempt to scrap them clean and to this day, I still own a metal device with different sized holes on each end to assist in popping them. Along with being disgusting, it was painful to endure, and to look in the mirror to bear witness to the minefield on my face.
Makeup can only conceal so much and in the end, I believe it made my skin worse. For the most part, I outgrew the pimple phase, but to this day, I battle the blackheads and whiteheads. I religiously scrub my nose and chin in a futile attempt to keep them at bay. I have become more skilled with makeup and use more natural face care, so I do have a nicer complexion, but as time marches on, I have other conditions to worry about.
Wrinkles are a natural part of aging. I’m a big believer in hyaluronic acid and have been using it for decades. I think it’s done a decent job with your garden variety wrinkles, but I have others that are self-inflicted. I’ll never forget the day; I was looking in the mirror of my powder room, that has a western exposure. The sun was streaming in and awakened me to the deep wrinkles I have around the left side of my mouth, you know, the side where I have a horrible habit of chewing the inside of my cheek. One would have thought that this experience would have been enough of a wakeup call that I would have stopped the habit cold turkey, but I have not been able to get this monkey off my back. My mother had the same habit, so maybe it’s genetics, but I have tried using a dental guard, chewing gum, even putting my finger in my mouth to gnaw on, to no avail. I do it mostly when I’m hungry or stressed, so basically, all the time. These deep crevices are nightmarish, but once again, I’ve gotten better with applying makeup.
I was into theatrical makeup in my twenties. To age someone, you add shadows to their natural crevices, under the eyes, around the nose and mouth, and under their cheekbones. As I age, I highlight those areas instead. I think it’s funny that the older I get, the more makeup I use to look “natural”. On top of that, I have no color to my eyebrows and eyelashes. I must apply numerous coats to even look remotely “natural”. If I don’t, I fear I will frighten small children.
I expected wrinkles, but I did not anticipate becoming a leopard. I have seborrheic keratosis, in other words, spots. They’re everywhere, but the most prominent one is under my right eye. I had it burned off with nice results. The dermatologist asked me if I wanted to do more than just the one. I told her, I had thought about it, pointing at my face, “However, if I do this one, then I will need to do that one and before you know it, will be burning my entire face, so no thank you.” Makeup does a fairly good job at disguising my feline features, and I wear glasses that rest on the most prominent one, but they are still a visible declaration of my age.
I recently asked my son to take a pic of me so I could update my FB profile. He said, and I quote, “You realize this pic shows all your wrinkles, right?” Kids, they say the damnedest things. As I gnawed at the inside of my cheek, I agreed, but what’s a gal to do? With hesitation, I posted the image, wrinkles, spots, and all. I was stunned when someone commented that I look good. I’m thinking that they may need to update their prescription of one sort or another, but I “liked” their comment.
I know the lighting in the bathroom at work is barbaric at best, but I try to avoid looking in to its mirror. When I do, I see every single year of my age and it makes my feelings sad. Many people compliment my complexion, but I just don’t see it. I try to kid myself into thinking, they must see me in a different light, or maybe it’s my dazzling personality that blinds them into coming to this preposterous conclusion. I’ve always wished that I could see myself as others do. I can’t imagine that I would be pleased, but then again, maybe I’m not as much of an ogre as I believe myself to be.
I’m comfortable in my own skin, until I’m not. I believe many feel that way about themselves. I’m usually the one that tells someone, “My wish for you is to be able to see yourself through my eyes.” Too many of us are self-deprecating and most of us, do not have someone to correct that mindset. I am fortunate, I do have generous souls in my life that will go out of their way to tell me that I do have nice skin, no matter how hard I try to educate them about their mistake.
I’m told that dust is mostly made of up dead skin. I have a very dusty house. Sometimes, I will admire the sun streaming in the windows, it’s breathtaking. Then, I will notice all the dust dancing in the sunbeam. How much of that dust is from my face? All the years of scraping and scrubbing have not stopped time. I fear I’m slowly flaking away, more, and more of the imperfections being exposed. All the wrinkles, spots, and blemishes being revealed. No amount of makeup can stop time from exposing who I truly am, the person others see, the person, I long to know and understand, my complexion.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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