This is one of the hardest writing exercises for me to do. I’ve probably done it three or four times in different writing books over the years. The one thing I’ve noticed is that I’ve gotten a little kinder toward myself the older I’ve gotten. The first time I did it at a workshop, there was not ONE thing I liked about my appearance. The plain fact of the matter was I wanted to look JUST LIKE BARBIE. That was before, of course, scientists figured out Barbie would actually topple over forward if she were a real person.
I tried. Honestly I did. When his lordship and I got married he really thought I was platinum blonde! (Close, but no cigar.) He still labors under the assumption that one day I may morph into her and he’ll have a little “doll” of his own. The gal who has cut our hair for 30+ years always laughs but continues to ask me if I want my hair short. She knows full well Lord Drollery wouldn’t go for that!
I have tried to counter his ridiculous obsession with Barbie. I even bought a key chain to flash in front of him that says: Not born Barbie; trying to cope anyway! But to no avail. Thank God the older we get the more he’s coming to realize HIS Barbie is never going to wear a bikini! (Or drive a convertible.) (Or own a townhouse.) And you have probably realized by now I’m actually putting off writing about this prompt!
Ok. Enough stalling. So what’s the lay of the land at 64? Not too dern bad. I like the fact that the few gray hairs I have are so light they fade into my thin, fine, blonde quite well. I’ve not spent tons of time in the sun, so my complexion is still pretty clear. I DO, however, have laugh lines around my mouth and eyes, and I’m ok with that. I earned them. I’ve laughed a lot in my life.
I DON’T like my eyebrows and eyelashes. They’re so blonde I look like a bloomin’ dead person. I wear black eyeliner so people can see I have eyes behind my glasses! I don’t mind the glasses. They feel like a safe place to hide. I don’t wear much makeup. I’m just vain enough to think I don’t need it! Except for when I go to church (’cause God deserves my best) or when Lord Drollery and I go out on the town. He’s stuck with me, he can’t complain much.
I’ve had a mole on my cheek from birth that I dislike. It might have looked great on Marilyn Monroe and Jane Mansfield, but I’d have it removed if I weren’t so afraid it would leave a big scar. (I still find it hard to believe they were considered beauty marks at one time and you could even get removable ones. I’d just as soon have a bindi to wear between my eyebrows!)
I like my pierced ears. I have good taste in earrings. 😀 I don’t like the space that’s growing between my two front teeth. It’s getting much wider as I age, and if it weren’t so expensive I’d be getting braces. But then Lord Drollery says I look like Lauren Hutton so what the heck! Still, you won’t see me smile in many pictures.
The other thing I hate the worst is my 64-year-old neck! I loved Nora Ephron’s book I Feel Bad About My Neck! I can SO relate! But I have little feet and I’m quite short!
As to the rest of me, I have found a few pounds over the years that I’d dearly love to lose again! I’m workin’ on that. It’s important as I’m a type 2 diabetic. I’m not a flashy dresser. You’ll usually find me in jeans and t-shirts, even at church. There’s a little girl inside me, however, who LOVES frilly, girly clothes and sparkly jewelry (though she wouldn’t be caught dead walking into Victoria’s Secret!). I let her come out when we go on cruises. She’s allowed to get dressed up for dinner in the formal dinning room. 😀 (She has impeccable manners, by the way…)
And that’s what I see when I look in the mirror. I like myself better than I did at 40 or 50, and a WHOLE lot better than I did at 30! And now that this first
primp prompt is done, the rest of Roberta Allen’s exercises ought to be a breeze. (I’m just praying someone doesn’t say to me they don’t think this is what this post is suppose to be about, in which case I just may just die from humiliation! 😳 )