Writing can be therapeutic. I write these posts not knowing if anyone really wants to read them. But boy looking over them, I sure see my insecurities clearly. They actually leap off the page at me. I knew I needed to get a life. But I had no idea how badly.
A direct result of my writing brought me to a beauty salon where I had my eyebrows waxed and my hair cut drastically. A change is what I needed. And it really helped. It has given my a little lightness in my step.
When I walked around San Francisco the other morning I noticed both men and women smiling at me. Was it the much needed sunshine lighting up everyone’s moods or was it the “sunshine” in me?
It seems impossible but I threw my clothes on that day with a little care and I even applied make-up. I covered up my old age spots with foundation. I even applied make-up to the dark circles that now underline my eyes. How long would this feeble attempt at youth last I wondered? Do I need to think I look good in order to feel good?
I went marketing that same afternoon, one of my most hated chores. But with the cabinets bare and everything devoured from the fridge I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. So I pushed my cart along the produce isles looking for basil when a man appeared and asked me if I was Italian. No, I told him. He continued talking to me and it took me awhile to figure out that he was flirting with me. Now that hasn’t happened in a long time. Should I rush back to my hairdresser and give him a bigger tip. Has he recaptured my youth with the sheering of a few split ends?
I bid my admirer a cheery “ciao” and a “graci” and off I went enjoying the rest of my marketing a little too much.
This innocent rendezvous got me thinking. Is it the make-up and new do really the reason for the newly acquired and much needed attention. Or is it how I feel about myself with the newly adorned accessories?
Could I carry around the same self-confidence when I look like crap? I knew I had to try. Fifty-two and I can’t count on superficial things to make me beautiful. I’m old enough to know I have to cherish the beauty within and hope for the occasional approving nod to get me through the cold, hard winter of my life.