I love this - and I love the way you've written it. I had my hair straightened once. It feels like another lifetime when I wanted to have long, blonde straight hair. I accomplished that - but each time I looked in the mirror I felt as though I wasn't Jewish, I wasn't myself.
Exactly. After all these years, being fully myself has been a hard-won accomplishment, even if I ended up looking different than I thought I would when I got here.
loved this story, as i look at my face, with red blotches from my recent visit to the dermatologist who froze another 10 spots, who sweetly told me, “your skin was not made for the sun. “ ok. i envy your unadorned olive skin.
Oh Pam, the red blotches are just the beginning. They turn brown, then scab. Not a good look. And there is no avoiding the sun in Tucson---even when you're keeping your head averted and keeping your gaze on the ground. My face gets frozen every six months!
I so related to this piece! Recently I visited a Jones Road shop having seen the pop-up ads on Facebook, thought I’d investigate. It was all I could do to suppress laughter as the consultant massaged spots of color onto my cheeks. Looking around the place with all the pots of color, I knew I’d never be an adherent! She said I had a dewy look. Dewy wasn’t for me. I’m happy with my natural skin with a spot of blush and tinted lip balm for special occasions. Less to wash off at night!
What I love about this-- as someone who tries to do similar pieces on my substack (wendysaul.substack.com)-- is the way an artfully fully described, time-sensitive incident draws us into the larger questions about aging and identity. Beautifully done.
What a gem. I could see myself trying to go along with this sweet gesture even though I was never an adopter of makeup, having tried and failed at 14 to apply eye makeup like the other girls. I try to laugh and accept the changes life brings to my face, including what I now call “hinge-jaw,” and one drooping eyelid that mimics the residual effect of a stroke I’ve never suffered. Yes, scrub that gorgeous face back to its real identity! Your Daddy never looked so good!
Loved this piece. At 82 I have pretty much given up on makeup, hair styling etc. I cut my own hair now in an "acceptable" pixie cut, and smile at the idea of trying to look like the younger me. I was always seen as attractive by both women and men until the last ten years. The wrinkles are deepening, my hair is thinning, and my skin is very thin, loose, and sometimes blotchy or dry. I fully appreciate the many years when I was young, strong and active and felt like an interesting and beautiful woman with or without make up, etc. I had the occasion once to have a professional makeup artist do my makeup for a big event - paid for by my son. It looked OK (I guess) but didn't feel right, and I couldn't wait to get home after the event and wash my face with soap and water. There is something humbling and satisfying about knowing I'm simply me inside and that aging physically is a challenging but also beautiful part of my life journey.
yes-- humbling for sure. Satisfying? Only intermittently. But you're right. It's us inside ourselves, and if we've lived well, we've become pretty good company to ourselves, and can reach for a bit of wry humor when we look in the mirror.
I laugh as the application by the face decorator and the removal by the wrinkled brown-dotted face owner closely resemble my painting methods. Additive and reductive sums it up nicely. Thanks for the peek.
I love this - and I love the way you've written it. I had my hair straightened once. It feels like another lifetime when I wanted to have long, blonde straight hair. I accomplished that - but each time I looked in the mirror I felt as though I wasn't Jewish, I wasn't myself.
Exactly. After all these years, being fully myself has been a hard-won accomplishment, even if I ended up looking different than I thought I would when I got here.
loved this story, as i look at my face, with red blotches from my recent visit to the dermatologist who froze another 10 spots, who sweetly told me, “your skin was not made for the sun. “ ok. i envy your unadorned olive skin.
Oh Pam, the red blotches are just the beginning. They turn brown, then scab. Not a good look. And there is no avoiding the sun in Tucson---even when you're keeping your head averted and keeping your gaze on the ground. My face gets frozen every six months!
I so related to this piece! Recently I visited a Jones Road shop having seen the pop-up ads on Facebook, thought I’d investigate. It was all I could do to suppress laughter as the consultant massaged spots of color onto my cheeks. Looking around the place with all the pots of color, I knew I’d never be an adherent! She said I had a dewy look. Dewy wasn’t for me. I’m happy with my natural skin with a spot of blush and tinted lip balm for special occasions. Less to wash off at night!
None of us are dewy once we pass our twenty-first birthday, and many of us well before that!
😄
What I love about this-- as someone who tries to do similar pieces on my substack (wendysaul.substack.com)-- is the way an artfully fully described, time-sensitive incident draws us into the larger questions about aging and identity. Beautifully done.
Thank you Wendy.
What a gem. I could see myself trying to go along with this sweet gesture even though I was never an adopter of makeup, having tried and failed at 14 to apply eye makeup like the other girls. I try to laugh and accept the changes life brings to my face, including what I now call “hinge-jaw,” and one drooping eyelid that mimics the residual effect of a stroke I’ve never suffered. Yes, scrub that gorgeous face back to its real identity! Your Daddy never looked so good!
Loved this piece. At 82 I have pretty much given up on makeup, hair styling etc. I cut my own hair now in an "acceptable" pixie cut, and smile at the idea of trying to look like the younger me. I was always seen as attractive by both women and men until the last ten years. The wrinkles are deepening, my hair is thinning, and my skin is very thin, loose, and sometimes blotchy or dry. I fully appreciate the many years when I was young, strong and active and felt like an interesting and beautiful woman with or without make up, etc. I had the occasion once to have a professional makeup artist do my makeup for a big event - paid for by my son. It looked OK (I guess) but didn't feel right, and I couldn't wait to get home after the event and wash my face with soap and water. There is something humbling and satisfying about knowing I'm simply me inside and that aging physically is a challenging but also beautiful part of my life journey.
yes-- humbling for sure. Satisfying? Only intermittently. But you're right. It's us inside ourselves, and if we've lived well, we've become pretty good company to ourselves, and can reach for a bit of wry humor when we look in the mirror.
I laugh as the application by the face decorator and the removal by the wrinkled brown-dotted face owner closely resemble my painting methods. Additive and reductive sums it up nicely. Thanks for the peek.
wonderful! Thank you!
Thanks Susan.