Does She or Doesn’t She?

10 Apr

I’ve never been one for fake. No fake plants, no fake Christmas trees ( yeh, I know, I’m Jewish, but I love Christmas!), no fake breasts (uh, have we not already discussed the lack of need?). People who are fake? I get a bit snarky with them. I don’t even dress up for Halloween because it feels strange pretending to be someone (or something) I’m not when everyone knows it’s fake. And faking an . . . uh, well there’s none of that either. So I find it strange that, all of the sudden, I’ve noticed I’ve begun to make some attempts at trickery in my appearance.Spanx

First, I must explain that I’ve been invited to attend a big event next week. This is one of those events for which most women would break out their best pair of Spanx. So there, the first part of my trickery is out. That would be a, “she does.” Breathing is a luxury I can forego for one night. But my list of other, shall we say, appearance modifications is growing.

First, I have discovered Jorgen’s Natural Glow Body Lotion. You see, I don’t plan to wear pantyhose (stockings, tights, nylons, whatever you want to call them) to this event because my completely uncomfortable shoes have an open toe and I believe that wearing pantyhose with an open-toe shoe is illegal. The problem, I am a redhead therefore, I’ve never been a huge tanner. Now a burner? Yup, when I was little, you could light your cigarette off my skin if I had been in the sun for more than an hour. In my mid-twenties, my skin changed and allowed my burn to magically become a tan after a day or two. As I was working on a ship in the Caribbean, I took full advantage of it. Something new – tan lines! Just after I turned forty I began to notice the damage those years of sun had done to my skin. So, now my legs can also be used as emergency lighting should we have a power outage, and feel free to follow this emergency lighting to the nearest exit should the plane go down. This body lotion really works and I am now on my second tube.

Now that my body is looking darker, I could use for my teeth to look whiter. White Teeth2Although I regularly use whitening toothpaste, I also regularly use coffee and red-wine. What a great discovery I made at the store. Not only did I buy whitening dental floss, but also whitening mouthwash. While I may lose the glow-sticks I call my legs, I will more than make up for the lost wattage with my blinding smile (just be sure to poke a pin through a piece of cardboard to look at me so you don’t burn your corneas).

Next, my eyes. “Your eyes?” you say. Yes. It seems to me that green eyes look best on a redhead. The problem is that mine are hazel. A little brownish, a little lighter greenish, like me, a bit non-committal. So I wear green contacts. Please understand that I’ve thought it ridiculous when people wear contacts simply to change their eye-color when they have no issues with their sight whatsoever. Luckily, I was blessed with pretty crappy eyesight. I’ve needed vision correction to see far since I was sixteen (aah, one of the benefits of driving). The day I turned forty, I suddenly also required vision correction to see close. Doesn’t seem quite fair really. Apparently I’m not alone in this. It’s God’s cruel joke – the day you need glasses to read is the day God starts messing with your head and makes you forget where you put them (laugh it up, Big Guy).

When I put in my green contacts (my right eye sees far and my left eye sees near so if you think I’m winking at you at a restaurant, I could just be attempting to locate the restroom ), I can actually see (kind of)! This leads me to the horrifying discovery of . . . gray roots (ssshhh, don’t tell anybody). Yes, I am a natural redhead but, since the natural red seems to be losing a fight with the natural gray, I’ve got a weapon. Her name is Britton and she my hair-stylist who has joined me in my war against gray hair. Later this week Britton will use her weapons of mass destruction to color my hair back to its youthful red appearance.

And, as my hair will be back to its natural auburn state, do I just wear it in my regular everyday hairstyle? You may have noticed in my photo that, not only am I a redhead, but I’m a curly redhead. It’s strange but I’m told my hair matches my personality (or maybe my personality matches my hair). While I will keep my natural perky personality on this special night, my hair will be enhanced. I decided to test hairstyles the other day (oh so girly). I pulled out the hair-straightener and got busy. Yes, due to new products and appliances I can now have Marcia Brady hair. And, since I live in the desert, it will actually stay that way. But, Marcia Brady is not what I have in mind for this night. Therefore I have purchased hot-rollers to use in combination with straightening. “Wait, straightening your hair just to curl it?” you say. “Uh, perhaps you are a bit indecisive, no?” I prefer to think of it as exercising all of my options. I gave the rollers a try. . .twice. Perhaps it was operator error (the most likely problem) but the roaring twenties flapper girl was not the sophisticated do I was looking for.

I headed back to the store and exchanged the rollers for a curling iron. After browsing an entire aisle dedicated to curling irons I couldn’t decide which size barrel to buy. Do I want big curls or small curls? Loose curls or tight curls? Before my head explodes and I no longer require hair-care products, I choose one with a tapered barrel which has options of ½ inch to an inch. No need to decide (again, just exercising all options). I re-straighten my hair and begin to play around with the curling iron. It comes with a glove in order for me not to burn my hand. How considerate (also a bit odd as I can also use it to remove a hot pan from the oven). I experiment. Hhmmm, do I roll from the thin end to the thick end or vice-versa? OWWW! Crap! What the. . . ?!! That strange smell is the scent of my skin burning. They gave me a glove but they should have provided asbestos shoulder pads. Seared shoulder! I hear God laughing, “This is the reason I gave you curly hair!” I’d put some ice on it but, oh yeh, my freezer door is stuck shut and the repairman can’t come for three days. I unplug the torture device and throw my hair in a ponytail.

Once again, I drive to the store in search of a different torture device. I pick up a regular curling iron with no fancy barrel options. I, once again, straighten my hair and pull out, duh, duh, duhhhhh, the new curling iron. After a few tries at various curling techniques (who am I kidding? I just start wrapping hair around the thing), success! I’ve come up with a hair style for the big night. Time will tell if I can actually create the same hairstyle twice.

So now I have tan skin, white teeth, green eyes, I’ve washed that gray right outta my hair and styled it too! What’s next? Botox! Yup, my dirty little secret. I first got Botox a couple of years ago when I found a Groupon (yes, I’m Jewish so I had a coupon). I had developed a vertical line directly between my eyebrows. It’s the line that a friend of mine calls, ‘the line that makes you look permanently annoyed.’ So the other day, I took advantage of the April special for a good deal on Botox (never pay retail for Botox). I few needles in my face later, I can still move my eyebrows, but there is no look of annoyance on this face (even when I’m annoyed).

Before Botox

Before Botox

And now, from the top to the bottom. You see, I already have the perfect dress and shoes. Well, the shoes would be perfect if didn’t want to run through a lawnmower blade when I wear them simply to cut my feet off as it would be less painful. I have only warn these shoes (and the dress) once. It was on the ship and, at the end of the night I had to walk from the aft of the ship all the way forward (back to front). I considered sleeping with someone simply because their cabin was close than mine.

The shoes are (completely coincidentally) from the Disney Glass Slipper Shoescollection (see previous posts on my most recent employer). Well, now I know why Cinderella left her shoe at the ball. It hurt too damn much! She should have sent Prince Charming back to pick up a pair of Sketchers.

I decide I must make an attempt to break them in. So now I’m wearing them around my house while cleaning. Yes, shorts, T-shirt squirt bottle of cleaning solution, cleaning rag and a lovely (if incredibly painful) pair of sparkly, black heels. All I can say is, Ow!

All that’s left is the bit of baggage under my eyes. While I’ve bought eye cream, I’m not ruling out Preparation H. And, as for my boobs, as Teri Hatcher said, “They’re real and they’re spectacular.”


One Response to “Does She or Doesn’t She?”


  1. If you could know your future, would you? | My Own Adventure - April 30, 2013

    […] of two events I attended the past two weekends. One was that event I was preparing to go to in Does She or Doesn’t She. This was opening night for Big Fish, the musical in Chicago. It follows the exceptional life and […]

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