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Archive for the ‘Beauty’ Category

She flitted in. Almost darting between our gazes. Head bobbing with each move. And I couldn’t stop watching her. She was a delicate little thing. Small. Angular. But still somehow, swooping. Sinuous.

 

She’s out of her comfort zone. It’s easy to see. In certain moments, a colored blur of watery reflection. In others, a precise dot on the obscure background that is this depressing place. I can tell you though. She’s livened it up just by breezing through. A welcome whisk of vivacity. A thrill for a sad and sorry bunch.

 

A wonder.

 

She continues on. Stopping now and then. Fluttering in her light-tipped way, from this stoop to that. Ignoring the attentions of everyone else. Busying herself. Bending to pluck bits of litter from the floor. Smoothing her sides back down flat.

 

I take in her slender neck. Sloping toward her rounded behind and ending in a graceful point at the tip of her thighs. I put my finger out and trace over it in the air. All the way down to the end. Following her curve with my eye.

 

A sharp noise above the din around us jars her and she ruffles from head to toe. I take a breath, waiting for her to leave me, but she stays. Gathers herself. Keeps moving. Slowly. Delicately. Toward me. My heart skips when I realize how close she’s getting. So close that I can see myself in her pupils. So close that I can feel her warmth. So close that I can smell her scent. And my once skipping heart now batters against its cage.

 

I reach out. To protect. The instinct is strong. But I can’t touch her. She’s just beyond my grasp. I want to call out, but the usual cackles begin around us and she brings her shoulders up over the sides of her head.

 

Shielding.

 

All is concealed but her starry eyes. Their long fine lashes reaching for me. Almost past the crook of her bent, slight limb. And then, they flicker. Those eyes. Right across mine. And lock. Just for a second, mind you. But it’s magic.

 

Changing.

 

Then, as quickly as she came, she’s gone. Off into her other world. And even though I knew she would eventually vanish, it breaks me. Instantly, I drain. Empty.

 

My mind.

My heart.

My soul.

 

As she drifts away into another place. Another time. I am left here.

Paused.

Until her return.

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In between being me and struggling to become who I think I should be, I also get to be someone else.

 

At 25 I was thankful to finally discern I didn’t have to do things I didn’t want to do—things like work with numbers, play bitchy office games, scrub someone else’s toilets or eat my carrots cooked. I realized I could take something I’d loved to do as a child and turn it into a big girl career.

 

I trained to be an Aesthetician. I took an intensive, full-time course and for the duration of a year, I did nothing but homework and performed thousands of services on hundreds of clients and my fellow students. Contrary to my mindset prior to diving into the adventures of beauty school, it was a long and challenging haul.

 

Surprise, surprise, there was much to learn for the sake of vanity. I memorized the names of every bone, muscle, nerve, organ and system in the human body and their functions. I explored nucleic cells and biochem.

 

I studied.

 

Hard.

 

Every single night.

 

Never having had an affinity for school, I was pleased to graduate at the top of my class and more than proud to receive my 5 diplomas. But, after some time working in the industry and a stint of dabbling in my own endeavor, I realized I had managed to somehow still be doing something I didn’t want to do.

 

Shoot.

 

I hung on for as long as I could, but in the end, had to succumb to the fact that electrifying unwanted hair from areas I shouldn’t see unless I’d at least been bought a dinner made me cringe and scraping dead, flaky skin from the soles of needy feet was not, in fact, the glamorous profession I had dreamed it to be.

 

So, I sidestepped.

 

These days, and that encompasses the last nineteen years, I focus solely on the make-up aspect of the beauty industry. I get to float around on TV sets, wedding days, runways and photo shoots.

 

And, it is in fact, glamorous, and something I still want to do after all this time.

You can check out Jennifer’s many stunning shots over at COFFEE & COUCH

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I was born without fingernails. Eh, not really, but I bet I nabbed your attention and at least a split second of your sympathy. Admit it. You were picturing me thumping away at this keyboard with my nubby little fingers and their fleshy raw tips. Truth be told, I did come with fingernails. They were just nothing to speak of…or to show anyone for that matter. Ridged and wavy, they were thinner than paper and peeled easier than the fine layer of skin that flakes off after a blistery sunburn.

 

I was forever ashamed of them. Always finding reasons to have the tips of my fingers curled into the shelter of my palms or my hands hidden deep inside my pockets. Yes, there are worse things. Much worse things and we all know shoddy fingernails aren’t among them, but hey, they’re good blog material. (We won’t mention that that is probably a matter of opinion)

 

After trying vitamins, supplements and various potions over the years, I’d given up on my nails. They were what they were and when that wasn’t appropriate, at times like holidays or Christmas parties, I learned to cover them with esthetically pleasing plastic.

 

Alas, I’m veering off the path of this posting.

 

As you know, I managed to transfer 798 of you over to my new .org site and I’d really like to know how you feel about that. I need to know because maybe that will help me figure out how I feel. Right now, I’m not too sure. I was really looking forward to seeing you use the new plug-in “Comment Luv” (not allowed on .com) and to just having more freedom for things like that in general, but I’m second-guessing myself. Help me out. Let me know.

 

When I asked my “Wordpress Happy Engineer” Sam (we’ll call him Sam because well, that’s actually his name) if transferring you back is an option, he said that can be confusing for you guys and that multiple transfers lead to unhappy followers. I should mention that he also said that if I came to the conclusion that that’s what’s best for all of us, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

 

As for my nails, I decided that giving up wasn’t an option. That they still mattered. So I chose to try one last thing. And guess what? It worked. My nails became, by some miracle, long and strong. I’ve even had to cut them back or file them down a few times. I seriously can’t believe it.

 

I take it as proof that we need to keep trying new things. There’s something out there that will work for everyone. We just can’t give up.

 

MY nails!

MY nails!

 

 

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Enjoy the Silence

I’ve hit a wall, so to speak and I don’t think it has anything to do with what I was trying to write about the other day. If I ever get it finished, you’ll see what I mean.

I started out formulating my usual post in my usual style, but then decided to try and get all fancy and metaphorical. Come to think of it, that’s supposed to be another one of my fortes, isn’t it?

It was about some daunting task I’d set out to tackle and had eventually achieved with great (and surprising) success. Boring, right? No wonder I couldn’t finish the post. I’m sure it’s why I haven’t written anything since. My attempts at bedazzling it fell short and I, in turn, fell silent.

The benefit of fancying yourself a writer is the freedom to turn mundane into miraculous. You’re empowered, enslaved and hopefully efficient in your craft but if you happen to be having a day where you’re wondering what the bejeezus happened to your superpowers, just enjoy the silence.

Mother/Daughter Muddy Mugs

Ava Facial

Alana Facial 2

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