My sis and I were playing around today with my clothes and makeup. She wants two things: for me to actually give a damn about what I'm wearing and to start wearing makeup. (You'd think it was her freaking birthday, huh?)
I have to agree with her about the clothes. It's just so dang hard to feel pretty and comfortable while I'm packing round these extra pounds. (Don't like going to the doc's, but I will be one happy black chick come this next appointment. Maybe I will actually be able to get off this Prednisone and onto something that won't have me looking like a chocolate Oompa Loompa.)
So, okay, I am going to embrace the larger me while I have to. I will NOT wear anymore drab colors, baggy tops and shapeless sweatpants. I will NOT try to hide this glorious extra me under anything that I wouldn't have worn when I was smaller. (Let's hope we can get this Prednisone alternative going on!)
Now, this thing about the makeup? Ummmm... I don't know about that one. I'm not good with makeup. One, I'm kinda lazy (as in it takes me about an extra 15 to 20 minutes of getting ready to be seen by anyone who gives a damn). Two, I'm kinda clumsy (as in I once just about put out my left eye with an eyeliner stick). Three, that crap gets all over everything you touch (as in I can't just scratch my face and then touch anything else without leaving fingerprints). How the hell do the real chi-chi chicks handle this stuff?
But I am going to try. I promised my sister. She says it will make me feel prettier and not as old. (By the way, as I've told her: I am not old. 51 is just a bit more seasoned than 25. Old is what you feel. I'm maybe... twenty-one? Hahaha!)
Here are the pre-makeup pics. When I get "makeup" pics tomorrow, I will try to get them posted:
|The crazy hair is from that freaking Keratin crap!!!|
|I can't control the hair. Impossible. I gave up.|
At least it's still growing back.
Do I look happy? I don't look happy, do I? Actually, I was pretty happy. I'm excited about lunch tomorrow. It's going to definitely be four of us physically there - me, sis, one of the nephews (if he doesn't get called in to work like everyone else) and one of the two local BFF's. Some are going to be at the family "home" dinner later on. The others are going to Skype in (if we can figure out how to pull it off in a restaurant) or phone in (at least for the song part) and, you know - all the love will be felt. Oh!! And did I mention that it's going to be at the Olive Garden? Yep. We finally got one up here. (I know that it's not in the Michelin Guide, you snobs, but I'm not that kinda gal. I'm more of a Guy Fieri type lady. You know, Guy of "Diner's Drive-ins and Dives" fame? Yeah, I said it. )
I am a little bummed because one of my nieces "Cat" and her husband "Poka" -and those are just stage names, folks - came when they could take off from day jobs, stayed 10 days, and had to leave last Sunday. (At least they got to meet their godson, D.J.) To make it even a little sadder, Cat's birthday was on the 9th, just before she got here... Still, we are all blessed to be here at all. I have to remind myself what happened after my last birthday: having a margarita and strutting my stuff one moment and meeting all kinds of new doctors the next. Yeah. Living beats hell out of the alternative.
|Exactly 1yr ago tomorrow. How the hell many pounds & doc visits ago was this?|
Like I started this rambling post out with: I have decided to be okay with this getting older business (since I didn't get okay with it by 45, right?). Every time I want to be pissed at my marriage falling apart, this illness, the meds, the topsy-turvy life I'm now living, I stop and think about the folks who didn't wake up to see this day, and I just say, "Thank You, Jesus." I should be thanking Him as much as I complain about my weight. (Lucky He doesn't smack my ungrateful behind with a thunderbolt...)
By the way, BFF ("local B") is turning 40 just 5 days after tomorrow, so, yeah, life is okay enough. This birthday is going to be a good one. A good year, a good rest of my life, a good new beginning.
Happy freaking birthday to me (if the Lord let me live to tell). And if it's not your birthday tomorrow, celebrate anyway.