Mirror, Mirror Why are you so honest?

I thought I knew about fashion, hair, and makeup until I had a teenager.

Having given that sentence some thought, I realize that I could fill in the blank after I thought I knew about with ANYTHING as long as it's followed by: until I had a teenager.

There was a time when I would confidently walk into say, Foley's and know exactly what to buy. Back in the days when I was skinny--and didn't know how to appreciate my shape, there were still plenty of things that didn't look good on me. And. I knew it. 

Even after I wasn't skinny, I knew that certain styles looked better than others. I had confidence in my selections. I knew how to minimize, hide, or enhance. I was an expert at not being noticed.

I've never been that concerned with makeup; but, I knew the big things to avoid--yellow based colors and that less was more.

Two things happened almost simultaneously:

1. I aged.

2. My child turned 13. (Actually it was more like 11--but that jacks up my opening thesis.)

I didn't get a choice about grey hair. It happened without my permission. Neither did I say while scrubbing a pan, "If only I could have hair that felt like this SOS pad!"

I remember Mom telling me that there would come a day when I wouldn't have to shave my legs as often because the hair wouldn't grow as fast. Awesome! What I didn't plan on and honest to goodness didn't put together until it happened, was that it slows down EVERYWHERE. That includes your head and eyelashes and eyebrows! (Correction...my bikini line still grows with vigor---which is just satanic.)

Although I was adequately warned about sun damage---I was convinced that a dark tan in the summer eclipsed thin, leather skin when I was old and married with kids. Who cares what your Mom looks like? She's in her forties!! No one notices HER! 

I'd heard something about skin tones changing with age; but, that was for grandmothers. Who cares? Grandmothers are old and no one notices them anyway. It truly never crossed my mind that when my elderly client's light pink powder blush looked like colored flour brushed on by a toddler that perhaps that shade looked fabulous on her 35 years earlier. Or that she couldn't see her face in the mirror anymore. More importantly I really, really didn't consider that she might still be interested in looking and feeling attractive despite her age.

What never occurred to me at age 17 was that I would age, at least not visibly. I was going to avoid that, through, you know, starving, being nice, and making sure people liked me. My world then could never encompass that I would have A child and not be married in my forties.

Back to real world aging.....

I won't even touch on wrinkles, hot flashes, zits during menopause, chin whiskers, and arms that aren't long enough to read menus. Cropped shirts worn bra-less aren't an option because your boobs are longer than the top. Long and lean only applied to legs or fingers in the past.

Now. If my self esteem wasn't in question enough, let's for fun add a teenager who is obliged to TELL you the items you might have missed. 

Your teeth. "Mom! Your teeth are gold. Gross." 

In more polite moments, "Mom! Did you know you can buy whitening strips from Target?" 

Hooded eyelids---"Wow, I'm so glad I didn't get those floppy skin things on my eyes! Do they get WORSE with age?"

Another reminder about hair---"Mom! Can I brush your hair and show you how it's done?"

The hair comment happened LAST night! Internally I said, "You want me to take that $12.00, wet hair brush and shove it up your nose?"

Instead, I recalled all my diatribe this past month that I thought went unheard. 

"My hair is FRIZZY!"  

"I can't get the ratio right on coconut oil! It's broom hair or Elvis!" 

"Screw it. No one is looking at my hair!" 

Except I am. And I still care.

Instead, I said, "Sure! I'd love for you to brush my hair." 

Here's what happened. With expertise and kindness, my YouTube obsessed daughter spent less than 20 minutes on my hair and it looked better than it has in years. (no exaggeration.) It turns out that she was listening. AND....Things HAVE changed and improved since I learned in the late 70's. That wet hair brush really is perfect for my wirey, grey hair disguised as medium brown. YouTube can teach you anything you want to learn.

I've changed too. What worked then doesn't work now in all cases. I do think the undertones of pink in my skin are being replaced with some yellow. I am happy that living in Oregon cured me of my need to wear makeup in public. Yet, I'm still not at the point I'm happy about a sales associate at JC Penny asking, "Have you ever thought about wearing makeup? Our Sephora associates are happy to teach you."

To be Sue Sylvester or Madea.

This morning I was getting dressed for a big presentation we're doing for our company, thera-LINK and I had an epiphany....

to look like what I did in the past, I spent about 30 minutes to an HOUR every single day before I stepped out of the house. 

And if I had a date or something later, I'd freshen up AGAIN. I doubt I'll ever invest that again--even though I really need it now more than I ever did in my youth. 

I had a client once who oft said, "Youth is wasted on the young." I, out of courtesy, laughed at her joke.

I understand now.

It's astonishing to realize that the person who was utterly dependent on me just 14 years ago, can teach me things I didn't realize I needed to learn. She can help me replace tired, outdated methods with efficient, modern ones. And having lived through many decades, I know that some current trends aren't worth any investment of money. Remember floral, bubble jumpsuits for adults? And a matching one for your infant girl. (Mine was red corduroy. The red bow flats are used for my Snow White costume now. Annie Beth is beyond relieved she wasn't a glimmer of a thought during that fashion era.)

I can learn and grow no matter my age. My knees may creak when I stand up. It might take an hour for the stitch marks embedded on my cheek from my 15 minute catnap on the leather couch to disappear. And the days of wash and go hair that actually looks presentable are gone.  But there are ponytails--even if someone might be tempted to sweep with mine.

I am convinced of something else,

          Smiles and joy trump good hair and makeup.

Here's to inner growth, loving extravagantly and aging realistically-- with a sincere hope that perms make a valiant comeback.