Thanksgiving – The Other White Meat

It's October 31^st around 9:00 p.m. and the candy fueled decaying corpse of Halloween wasn’t even cold when the commercials for Christmas started.  The bright lights, festivities and the message was that the best time to get with your family is that magic day in December. There was no message about that holiday that falls on the fourth Thursday in November - the holiday that is traditionally reserved for reflection to give thanks for all we have and the blessings bestowed on us.  Thanksgiving is now officially a speed bump on the way to the more financially bloated Christmas holiday. 

I have always loved Thanksgiving even if it does give me a dose of angst as I know that my days of getting everything done before December 25^th are starting to tick away.  It used to be the one day that you knew you had to slow down because the stores were all closed.  If you worked in retail, it gave you a day to rest before the onslaught of Black Friday  - a day when legions of shoppers try to take their local malls, Targets and Wal-Marts like soldiers storming Normandy in WWII.  Black Friday is not for the faint of heart – it takes steely nerves, a strategy and a take no prisoner’s attitude – on that day, you keep your head down and know that fear is good, fear will keep you alive.  It’s precisely why taking Thanksgiving to take stock of your life is so important – you never know when reaching for that drastically reduced big screen TV might be your last.  But seriously, it’s supposed to be a time to be with family – enjoying football and avoiding a political discussion with the uncle who thinks the last good president was Ronald Reagan.  You take the time to go around the table and talk about what you’re really grateful for, not leaving half way through dinner to get to Target hours before it opens at 5:00 p.m. Thanksgiving night to get the $1 DVD door busters.

I guess the bigger question in my mind is – “Have we lost the fine art of being thankful?”  It’s a steadily snarkier world out there where people like Simon Cowell are praised for their brutal honesty and running people down on Twitter and Facebook seems to be America’s favorite past time.  You create a family video on YouTube with the baby’s first steps only to have someone leave a comment that the baby sucks.  Really?  What is happening out there?  Is the need to be the most negative the one who wins?     

Reality shows are steadily showing us the heightened effects of the demise of the human condition that include meltdowns, accusations, selfishness and a total lack of cooperation because you need to stab the other person in the back to get ahead.  But the constant barrage of negativity can take its toll after a while and skew your perception of what you should be grateful for.  If you are not rich, famous and have camera crew documenting your every move in our society, then you have nothing.  If you are not keeping up with the Kardashians then you have little to talk with other people about who would rather discuss the empty twisted adventures of pseudo-celebrities rather then taking the time to be introspective about their own lives.  

There are tons of distractions to keep us from taking stock and realize that what we have is pretty good.  There are smart phones that keep us on track so that we can get the latest tweets and instant messages from Facebook. We can use Outlook to schedule ourselves into oblivion and not have a quiet moment to think because if you are not plugged in, then you are missing out. Those quiet moments are essential for us to connect with who we are, but silencing the mind and really discovering ourselves can be flat out scary.  How many people do you know who are constantly running from appointment to appointment (almost always late I might add) or rehearsal to rehearsal, regaling you with how many projects they are working on. They are always dashing off to the next thing - never really forming tight bonds because keeping things on the surface is much easier than a heavier emotional investment.  It’s easier to cancel at the last minute when you are not deeply bonded to something because you assure yourself that something else will always come along to distract you.   You post the schedule of your exhausting day on Facebook only to be one-upped by someone who is equally over scheduled, because the one who drops dead first while working on that important project wins.You spend so much time trying to assure yourself that things are going great because you’re going at the speed of hyper-space that you don’t have the time to see much of anything until you are so emotionally or physically exhausted, you are forced to stop and hopefully ask yourself why you are so busy.  Why can’t we be thankful for what we have rather than always looking for something more?

An article by Melinda Beck of the Wall Street Journal, reported that in a landmark study in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology in 2003, Dr. Robert Emmons and Dr. Michael McCullough showed that counting blessings can actually make people feel better.  A group of 100 undergrads were split into three groups.  Each group had to report on different things for 10 consecutive weeks: one group had to report five blessings each week, one group had to report five negative things each week and the last group just had to report five things that happened.   Needless to say, the group that counted their blessings were happier, exercised more and felt better about their lives than the other two groups.   As simple as it sounds, gratitude is actually a demanding, complex emotion that requires "self-reflection, the ability to admit that one is dependent upon the help of others, and the humility to realize one's own limitations," Dr. Emmons explained.  You’re simply not going to be able to do that if you are constantly rushing from one place to another without the time to reflect on what you really need.

One of my favorite all time movies is It’s a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart.  It’s a great movie about the power of being grateful.  In the 1947 movie, George Bailey tries all his life to get out of Bedford Falls because he’s sure they he’ll be completely happy if he can just “shake off the dust of this town” and start anew somewhere else.   The entire movie addresses the yearning of this man to do big things in the world but every time it looks like he might get out, he’s thwarted by his father’s death, his brother’s marriage and his duty to the town he loves and hates.   He marries the love of his life  and has four kids in the home she’s always wanted to live in.   Things are going along pretty well until one Christmas Eve when his uncle misplaces $8,000 (which in today’s market would be closer to $100,000) and everything seems lost.  He’s given everything to this town and now he might go to jail for something he didn’t even do.  When he’s told by his nemesis Mr. Potter that he might be worth more dead than alive - George clutches his life insurance policy and tries to kill himself only to be saved by his guardian angel Clarence.  When he wonders what the world would be like if he was never born, Clarence grants his wish.  He ends up in an alternate reality and sees Bedford Falls empty of happiness and compassion.   All the people he ever cared about and helped fall into despair because he was not around to touch their lives.  He begs Clarence to send him back to his real world, even if it means he’ll go to jail because having the people he loves in his life is worth the risk.  In the end, his family and friends rally to his defense and he realizes that he didn’t need to leave his home, because the world he has created there is amazing and special.  It’s a movie that still resonates with people today – probably more so because it’s easy to feel overlooked and forgotten in our technological age.   

In the same Wall Street Journal article, Ms. Beck discusses “The George Bailey Effect” which asks the readers to subtract a positive person or event from their lives and think about how things would be different.  If you take that flight of imagination, it’s easy to see how your life would be different if you didn’t have that significant event or person, good or bad to help define who you are. For instance, I met my husband Max when I was 25, coming off a bad relationship with an actor and the last thing I wanted was to date another actor.   He was coming off a break-up with an actress so the both of us started off as friends who met doing a play called All Men are Whores (yes, that was the actual name of the play).  We’ve know each other for over 30 years and have been married for 27.  I will tell you that I would be a neurotic self centered person without Max in my life.  I would not have my two amazing girls.  I probably would have been married and divorced a few times to men who would not have treated me very well.   I’d probably either be very skinny or overweight from stress if I was in the entertainment business full time and having crying jags everyday. To put it simply, my life would have no balance - I would be a hot mess.  So when I look across the table and see his face, I’m thankful that he’s part of my life and thankful for the times that we’ve had together.  We have a long history and our life together has definitely seen the “for better or for worse”  sides. We’ve met those times with tenacity, love, laughter and plenty of “That’s What She Said” jokes. 

Eight year ago, my life was very different. I had just been laid off, one of our two cars had died and our sick kitty had also passed.  I could have given into the negative, but I started to volunteer for Hands on Atlanta.  I also helped sort thank-you letters to the soldiers serving overseas which helped put things in perspective because those serving in the dangerous parts of the world needed prayers and support way more than I did.  I was happy to do what I could to help them out.   During the low points in my six months of being unemployed, I made myself take walks at a local park and appreciate the beautiful trees and the sounds of the running brook. I was grateful that I was healthy and had a family that loved me even if I didn’t have a job.

This Thanksgiving, rather sitting around griping and commiserating about the election and threatening secession from the Union (really people – it didn’t really work out so well 160 years ago) or gloating because your guy won, why not talk about all the great things we have in this country – like the right to talk about seceding, the ways can help people affected by Hurricanes recover, the games you used to love to play as kids and how wonderful dinner was. I guarantee if you focus on the positive instead of the negative, everyone will leave the table feeling better and closer. 

Thanksgiving should be about more than just a huge meal to get you from Halloween to Christmas.  It should mean something.  It should mean a heartfelt thank you to those that you appreciate and do kind things for you.  Saying thanks for something specific can mean so much.  The other day, I went to Publix to pick up a few groceries and the cashier asked me if I wanted to donate a few boxes of food for their Food for Sharing program to help needy families in the area.  I said, “Sure, why not?” as she rang up an extra $4.50 to my bill, because that easily could have been my family a few years ago. She thanked me profusely since I was the first person who had taken her up on the offer.  Her supervisor walked up and started to help bag my order and was told that I had just donated to the program.  “That’s great – now we’re ahead of the other team – thank you so much and the family who will get the food thanks you too.”  They were both so happy over what would amount what I would spend on a grande salted caramel coffee from Starbucks – but this was a much better use of my money.  I left with a big smile on my face.  I had made those women’s day and they had made mine because they were sincerely thankful.

You could save yourself so much time and frustration if you just took the time to sit and ask yourself what you are grateful for and what you really need.  The lightening speed of your life can take a pause while you contemplate that.  What are you thankful for?  My guess is that it’s not the fifth project that you’ve just taken on in addition to your regular job.  I’m not going to take the holier than thou attitude because frankly I’m guilty of doing that to myself – I'm an insurance agent, I sell Mary Kay, I've finished a novel that I'm submitting to an agent, and if people ask me to help them do things for non-profits, I have a hard time saying no.  But I have gotten better – I try not to give so much away so that I’m too exhausted to be present for the people that I love and who really need me.   When I take the time to see all the great things I have in my life, I won’t be looking outside of that nucleus to feel complete.

So this year, start a new tradition - sit back and ask yourself what you have to be thankful for and let those near and dear to you know how much you love them.  The last few years have included some really tough times and the loss of my mother and sister-in-law but I got through it. I learned who really loved me, who my friends were and would stick by me no matter what. When you get right down to it, I have everything I need to be happy. Feeling grateful should always be the meat of Thanksgiving – it’s what’s for dinner.

Little Miracle

"Bear - I need you to come with the car and pick me up - I found a kitten," was the first time I knew about Kuji. Max, my husband had taken a walk in a park nearby our house and noticed something on the side of the road. It was a small fur ball, so small it was the size of the pine cones that it was next too. "I thought it was dead and said a prayer over it and then the kitten put up it's little head and started to squeak - please bring something to put it in," he asked. I found a shoe box, put a clean towel in it and a piece of fabric as a makeshift crib. A helpless feline infant was abandoned and of course we would help - even though it would have been easy to walk on by as one person did while we were getting her into the car - but that was not God's plan. "I've never seen an animal this small," Daniel, our son, remarked as we drove the short distance home. We got her inside and tried to see if she would take water with a small eye dropper. She was so new to the world that her eyes were not quite open, but her vocal cords worked great and she was squeaking up a storm. Since she was so small, I checked the internet for guidance. She was at best 10 days to two weeks old which is a tough age when most kittens do better with their birth mothers for at least six weeks. The kids kept asking what was going to happen and if we were going to keep her. "I really just want to take it a week at at time," I said. "Kittens this age need their mothers and something must have happened or maybe she was just a abandoned but whatever might have happened before, God trusts us to take care of her now." We assumed she was a girl but it's pretty hairy down there - so was hard to tell.

Max donned some surgical gloves and tried to get her to drink a bit.   We called an animal hospital to see if they would take her but found out that they don't take kittens that age that have been abandoned but I got some good advice on what to get her.   Me and the kids went to Pet Superstore to get kitten formula, bottles and some special kitten wipes.  The kids still kept asking if we would keep her and again my answer was that she was so little we had to get her to that six week point to really know for sure.   I told myself not to get too close because there was a chance she would not make it but put on a positive face for the kids.   We got home with the powdered formula and she took some of it but going from mother's milk to a bottle even for a human baby is hard  - but eventually we found our stride.  She would drink a teaspoon at a time and that seemed like a huge milestone.   Max posted photos of her on his Facebook page but I didn't.  I was too afraid something bad would happen to take that chance.  

I got up in the middle of the night to check on her and see if she would take some formula.  I thought my days of late night feedings were over but this little one needed the help.  There I was in the bathroom holding her tight and hoping she would take a few drops of formula.  I wondered how long she had been out there and if she would have died if we hadn't found her on the pavement on a scorching Atlanta day.   Max wanted to call her Kuji which means "Nine Powers" and it seemed fitting - she had the power to get the side of the road.  I thought about how her guardians angels had guided Max to find her and bring her here as I sat in the stillness of the night with the white noise of the AC and the warmth of her little body up against mine.  "Don't get too close, there is a chance she won't make it," my brain kept telling me, but in my heart I was already falling in love.   My kids were getting older and didn't need me as much and this little being needed as much help as she could get.  I felt needed.   That Monday, Amber had a cold so she was able to stay home with Kuji but she was not taking formula and Amber was getting stressed.   Max came home after 4:00 p.m.  and got her to pee which really made me smile as I listened to her progress at work - she's had a number one now just a number 2 and I'd be totally happy.  Ah, parenthood - you worry about gross stuff like that.  I got home and we went to the pet store to get the cans of formula which she might like better.   It worked, she drank it and then would retire to her shoe box with a Body Comfort warm pad and fresh towels.   She's squeak in the middle of the night when she wanted to be fed and it was like taking care of an infant all over again. 

It was three days after we got her that I mentioned Kuji on Facebook - many of our friends knew about her through Max's Facebook postings, encouraging us and giving advice which we appreciated.   That Tuesday, she drained her morning bottle and then promptly peed on me.   Oddly enough that made me happy since it meant that her body was functioning well.  Her eyes were now fully wide open and it was like she couldn't wait to see everything she could in her little world.  I felt like she was starting to get healthier on her way to being a permanent member of our household.  She was crawling out of the shoe box and needed the tall sides of a laundry basket to keep her out of harm's way.  Our two other adults cats, Sonny and Vanilly didn't know what to make of her - they just kept their distance.  They never hissed or growled.  Vanilly would try to touch her and get about an inch away and then would back away when she squeaked.   Sonny would get up on the couch and look down at her crib and keep an eye on her.   She went to the vet's five days after we got her.  She was robust and all over the place.  The vet was impressed at how well she was doing and give us a vaccination schedule since they really couldn't to much for her until she was six weeks old.   She got a clean bill of health and now I cast my concerns aside could really love on that little girl because it seemed like she would be with us for a while.  

At the end of the work week, I had promised to do a teen retreat with my Unitarian Church and spend the night at the retreat.  I hated being away from the family and little Kuji but she was doing so well and the rest of the family needed to bond with her too.   Many of the people at the retreat asked me how she was doing and I had the photos that Max was posting on Facebook to show them.   I just felt so happy that she was doing well and that she was our little miracle.   I sat there thinking of her even as the teens at the workshop tried to figure their own spiritual path - some believing, some not and some complaining that we were talking about God too much at church because they'd rather just come here to hang out with their friends.   You gotta love Unitarians - talking about the importance of church and raging against the machine at the same time.   I left the retreat that Saturday afternoon happy to be back at home with the family and the animals that I loved.   I held Kuji against my chest and fed her - Max told me that she really responded to me more than anyone else in the family and that made me smile.  I loved the feeling of her little body against my chest.  She was squeaking, and walking around and telling everyone about it.   I let her fall asleep on Amber's chest and it felt like after a little less than a week we were finding our equilibrium with the new kitten.   I let her sleep in the laundry basket with Amber and Daniel who were camped out on beds in the living room after her midnight feeding.   When she fussed in the middle of the night - they brought her to me and I was happy to fed her and kiss her - everything seemed very normal. 

The next morning I went in to see how she was doing.  She opened her eyes and looked very contented.   She was purring now and it just seemed like things were progressing as they needed to.  But a few hours later,  I noticed that her head seemed misshapen - I touched the top and it was soft.  Worse, she was not talking or squeaking - she was just very quiet but active.   Her walking had gone from very sprite-like to sideways and she was falling down.    Something had happened and I asked if anyone had dropped her on her head, but no one had.    She wanted to sleep more and I would check on her while I was finishing my blog - ironically - we had gotten her a week before just as I had finished another blog.    I could feel in the pit of my stomach that this was bad, but how could she have developed this in less than 12 hours?   Later that day, an abscess formed on her head and began to drain.  I put warm washcloths on it to help and antibiotic cream but she started to get weaker.   She would still take a bottle which was encouraging but her walking was very unsteady.  Worse, my work week was filled with Board Meetings, rehearsals and an open house that I had to be at.   That Monday before work, I got her to take about a tablespoon of formula and she peed and was walking - albeit unsteadily.   I got her cleaned up put in fresh linens, made sure her heating pads were warm and talked to her sweetly with tears running down my face before I went to work.   Daniel would see how sad I was and told me she would be okay as he hugged me out the door.  I would call Amber in the afternoon after she got home from school to find out how she was doing and Max would give me an update when he got home.  The guilt of not being there was huge - but I was in a new job and taking time off for a sick kitten didn't seem like a good reason to miss work.   She was not much better or taking much formula that night and the next day she was getting weaker.   It all seemed so harsh - I mean we found her for a reason.  We were supposed to have her for a long time - not just a week - why was God doing this to us?   So I would try to feed her multiple times from 5:30 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. when I left hoping she would rally.   Max was posting updates on Facebook and the response was always so kind - so many people were praying and pulling for her.  

I had to work late for a Board meeting that Tuesday and got home around 8:30 p.m.   I held her tight and she'd take a little formula - again perking up when she heard or saw me.  That night Max and I were holding her and crying.  I tried to make sense of it all - she was so healthy just a few days ago and now it was clear that it was only a matter of time.   I asked him if her being with us was just a transit to another life and that she needed to experience unconditional love in this life - even if it was for a short time so that she could take that into her next one.   He nodded and said that had to have been it and that the real tragedy would have been if she had died on the side of the road without ever knowing how much she could be loved.   Intellectually I knew that and it should have filled me with joy to know that we had helped her but sitting there holding this little life that was ebbing away, it was hard to get my heart to heed that lesson because it was breaking in two.   We let the kids know that Kuji might not make it and that miracles might happen and she might rally but that it didn't look good.  Daniel just said that he just didn't want to think that way and she would be fine - that's my son the optimist.  We made sure he got a chance to hold her and try to feed her. 

The next morning, which was a Wednesday, I got up and Kuji was getting weaker and weaker.  I Facebooked that she was not looking good and got some very sweet responses from people who had gone through the same thing and wanted to let us know that we were doing everything we could and to be gentle with each other.   I again kissed her and put her out in the living room before I went to work so that if she did pass, the other cats would be nearby and she wouldn't be alone.  Vanilly would rub against the laundry basket and Sonny would lay on the top of the couch looking down on her and making sure she was okay.  I would go into the bathroom at work and cry so that no one would know what was wrong.  It wasn't that they would not have been sympathetic but I just didn't want the flood gates opening every time someone asked how the kitten was.   I got home that night and held her and she put her little paws up to me.   I got her to take a little more formula before the actors came over for rehearsal.   It was a small group - just Mike and Becca.  Amber brought her out and they got a chance to see our little kitten who was so weak and fragile.   Doing improv helped me - because it seemed like I had spent so much of the week crying it was nice to laugh for a change.  Vanilly kept jumping into scenes which was funny.  I think he needed the attention since we had all been so focused on the little one.  At the end of the rehearsal, Max brought Kuji down to the garage while he was painting.  Later, Mike, Becca, Max and I talked about her and that she might get better but I was not holding out much hope, she could not even lift her neck at this point.  I took her upstairs and tried to get her to take a little water which she seemed able to do - I just wanted her hydrated and maybe things might get better.   

On Thursday morning I was surprised that she was still with us.   I made sure the kids got a chance to hold her and hug her because I was not sure if she would be here when they got home.   My prayer was that she would not pass before they got home.   I got ready for work and yet another afterwork event.   I kissed her and sang "This Little Light of Mine" to her.   I made sure she was warm and clean and put her crib in the sunbeam on the couch.   Vanilly and Sonny were nearby now acting as guardians.  I left again, not sure if I would see her alive and wanting so badly to stay and wishing this had happened while I still unemployed so that I could take care of her the way I was able to take care of our cat Skittles before he died back in November.   Waiting to call Amber was so hard - and when she answered she was crying and I was crying.   Kuji was still alive but barely.   I wanted to go home but was too afraid to ask to leave and at least there were people home with her.   Max came home to the sight of both kids sobbing.   He tried to give Kuji some water and brought her up to our bedroom so she could be near him.   I had to go an open house and called before I left - he told me she was still with us and I thought that she might wait until I came home to leave.   I went to the open house which actually made me feel a little better and called around 8:00 p.m. to see how she was doing.   Max told me to come home and didn't say much else.  When I walked in the door, Amber was on her computer and things seemed normal so maybe I was still in time.  Max appeared at the top of the stairs and just shook his head.   "She's gone?" I said choking back tears that I was sure I had completely expended.  "At about 6:00 p.m., I didn't want to tell you while you were driving, but she's still upstairs if you want to see her."  I tore up the stairs and saw my little Kuji who looked she was sleeping but she was no more.   Max told me that when he told the kids she was gone, their first instinct was to hug each other.   So we sat around and cried and held her for one last time.  I then handed her to Max who had a spot in the garden picked out under a  rose bush on the other side where Skittles was buried.   Me and kids held hands and sang "This Little Light of Mine" one last time to her.    

We let our friends on Facebook know that Kuji was gone and the response blew my mind.   People who I hadn't heard from in long time expressed their condolences.   That's the thing about human nature - there is something about a helpless sick animal infant that brings out the sympathetic feelings in even the toughest person.   Max and I got loads of well wishes and it really did help to know that so many people were caught up in the Kuji story and prayed for a happy ending and now they shared our sorrow.   

I made it a point to tell the kids that even though our hearts were broken it was important that Kuji was with us for the short time that she was.   If we had known how sad this ending was when we first met her, we would still do it all over again, because you can't turn your back on helping the helpless whether they are animal or human.  The easy thing would have been to walk on by and hope that someone else would take care of it but that's not us and it never will be.   It's still so fresh and I know that time heals all wounds.  It's been a hard weekend and  we tried to do some fun things this weekend like bowling, going to the food truck park in Atlanta and river tubing just to try to keep our spirits up.    I gave away the laundry basket with some donated clothes that Kuji slept in not to forget her but just looking at it made me just too sad.  So now you know about the abandoned little kitten that might have died nameless and loveless and thought that no one cared.   But we cared, we loved and yes - we lost.  I kept thinking of that verse from the bible, Matthew 25:31- "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in ...Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me."  My prayer for her now is that she will love as deeply in the next life as she was loved in this one.   She was our little miracle with the big heart. 

Making Up

I've been using make-up since I was about 15 years old when my mother finally let me do more than use Vaseline as lip gloss and baby powder as eye shadow.   Getting that okay from the lead female in your household to don the universal women's camouflage is a real rite of passage.  It means that you can change you look at will.   You can correct that blemish and make it disappear, you can change the way your lips look, your eyes look and even the way your nose looks if you get the shading right.    You can become a completely different person with the right skill and know-how.   It's a heady experience the first time you are able to truly change your appearance and face the world as a slightly more perfected version of yourself.    You feel grown-up, worldly and prettier than you ever have before.   You go from ordinary to extra ordinary in just 10 to 20 minutes (depending on your make-up routine).  That extra boost of confidence can do a lot to help you get through the day.   That red or pink lipstick can help you smile bigger - the world is your oyster.  It's all good - so why am I having such a hard time with my daughter's use of make-up?   Why does it turn into a battle at times when we get ready to leave the house?  It's just face paint - so what's the big deal?  But beauty is more than just skin deep and sometimes the made-up face that we show the world is a mask trying to hide something much deeper. 

I remember learning how to put on make-up from my older sister Kathy by watching her get ready for school and dates in the late 1970's.   Back then, women were wearing false eyelashes, had wig-ettes (they were pre-styled buns or a more elaborate up-do with tons of curls that you could clip to the back of your hair to make it look like you had just walked out of the salon).   There was liquid eyeliner, frosted lipstick, pink blush, blue eye shadow, tons of foundation and powder.   I remember watching the Mary Tyler Moore Show and marveling at how Rhonda, Mary and Phyllis could keep their eyes so wide open when they had to be weighed down by triple sets of false eyelashes.   Eyes in the 1970's got more than a pass of eyeliner like in the 50' and 60's.  Women's liberation heralded in the use of using as much make-up as you wanted to - a paradox for the liberated who wore more make-up rather than going fresh faced.   It was like their eyes were being opened to the possibilities of the world and the make-up reflected it.   Probably the biggest make-up icons of that time were Charlie's Angels.    Farrah's Fawcett's flip (trying saying that three times fast) and her heavy bronzed make-up became the standard that most women of a certain age (mid teens to mid thirties) strived for even if it was impossible to maintain.  Never mind that she had stylists on the set resetting her hair constantly and touching up the make-up - it was fun and so not Twiggy.   

As high school loomed - I begged my mother to let me wear make-up and she thankfully relented.  I was daughter number two and soon daughter number three would want the same thing but at least we could share blush, foundation and eye shadow so the cost of make-up was not as much.   Once I started to wear make-up, the bronzed look of Farrah played into my make-up routine.  The natural look for me included two different color foundations and three different types of blush and 30 minutes in front of the mirror.  My eye shadow was peach and I used a blue eye pencil which I even put in my water line (which now seems gross but then really made my eyes pop).   It was a ton of make-up to wear to Southwest Senior High in Miami in the late 1970's and early 80's which at that time had no air conditioning.   My overall look was more Annie Hall then Farrah, but wearing a tie and oxford shirt could be brutal.  By the end of 6th period in the middle of June, most of the make-up had worn off as the drops of sweat with the bronzers and blush would drip onto my notebook paper and leave lovely tan splotches.  Then there were the Bon Bell Kissing Potions which were roll on lip glosses in flavors like chocolate mint, strawberry and bubble gum.  I'm not sure my father ever really got a load of those "kissing potions" because that might have stopped the unescorted trips down the Sentry Drugstore cosmetics isle for me and my younger sister.   

I think now about how my 15 year old skin was back then - not perfect but not blemished all over.   I would kill for that skin again and yet I was so hell bent on covering it in layers of make-up and powder.   In the 1980's, make-up was so heavy - it was more like strips then blended.   The natural look of the 70's faded into the New Wave of the 80's and the girls in the Robert Palmer videos seemed to represent the new look on the newly formed MTV.    The early 1980's were my college years where Princess Diana was on every magazine cover and I got my hair cut like hers - I mean I went from mid-back length to up to the back of my neck.    It was the first time in my life since I was a toddler that I had hair that short.   I had to compensate with make-up.   Tons of eyeliner just like hers - the shy Di look which interestingly enough did not go over well with the horny college guys - they wanted the Madonna look or just a really slutty girl from a David Lee Roth video.   Needless to say, my parents were all for the Di look while I was at FSU.  

In the late 1980's I met Max - 1988 to be exact.  By that time, I had been out of college and waiting tables (ironically at Houlihan's where they insisted that we were a narrow tie and oxford shirt and I hated it - it was not what Annie Hall would have wanted).   My make-up routine was more about practicality - I needed to get it done in 10 minutes or less.   I was also doing theater where you sometimes spent hours doing your make-up to make yourself either look a beautiful fairy queen or like a wicked step sister.    In the 1990's I started office jobs and learned how to look professional and polished without a ton of make-up.   But the pressure to fit in and wear make-up can also come at a heavy price.  I've actually worked with two women over the years that freely confided that their husbands have never seen them without make-up.   They would wait until their husbands fell asleep to take their make-up off and then set the alarm to be up 30 minutes before their spouses woke up to put it all on again.   They even insisted that they have make-up on during child birth - a really weird time to worry about how your face looks when another part of your anatomy should be taking center stage.   What were they afraid of - that their partners would see the real them and flee in horror?   My God, that's not much of a marriage if you have to work that hard to keep up the facade.   Max often tells me that he can't tell when I have make-up on or not and that I don't really need it.   I thank him for being sweet and he says very matter-of-factly that he's not being sweet - he's just being honest.   You gotta love a guy that's willing to be that honest. 

Amber just turned 16 and has been using cosmetics for the last year and she loves it.  She watches tutorials on YouTube by Michelle Phan - a make-up artist that gives you all the tools you need to create looks like Lady Gaga and other gender-bending artists.    For her sixteenth birthday, we went to the Lancome counter and she got two eye shadows for $38 but we also got the free gift and since we told the salesperson it was her 16th birthday, she threw in a ton of extras.   She has 50 different shades of eye shadows, eye liners, blush, pressed powder, lipsticks, eye liners, pencils- she could literally be a make-up artist with all the stuff she's collected over the last two years.  Of course when you own that much make-up you want to try out as many eye shadow combinations as possible which leads to the battles when we try to get out the door.  The stripes of eye shadow streaking out from the corners of her eyes announcing to the world that she now has possession of that magic wand and can change the way her eyes look a will - from quiet and subtle to "Hey, Lady Gaga has nothing on me!"  I can imagine now how my mother felt seeing my fresh teen face being transformed into the war paint of the woman-child and the heady power that comes with it.   You lose your identity in the process of finding your identity and the process of watching this for the mothers can never be easy.   I tell Amber everyday how beautiful she is with or without make up and half the time she goes without it - mostly at home and sometimes to school which I think is a good sign.   Once I started wearing make-up - no one outside of the my family's house ever saw me without it for years.   I was afraid that if I appeared in public without my "mask" people would not pay as much attention to me - I would be ordinary and to a creative person - being ordinary is the worst fate of all.  

Yesterday I helped Amber with her make-up to show her how pretty with just a little bit of foundation, blush, a touch of eye shadow and mascara could be.   She smiled sweetly and when we went to Mall of Georgia, she asked if we could go into the Sephora store which is massive place that's filled with top of the line make-up and each display has disposable applicators so you can try tons of make-up yourself.  Before I knew it, she was into the gold lipstick and dark grey eye shadow that went almost all the way to her hairline.  It made me mad and I snapped at her.  She had this very pretty look that I had made for her and then she had to take it over the top with all this new make-up.  Afterwards I felt bad -she felt bad and frankly over what?  The make-up that was not permanent - and it was just her way of expressing herself.   In the car, I apologized and said that if she wanted to wear her make-up a certain way, that was fine.   I needed to learn to pick my battles and a battle over something that would remove over soap and water was not worth waging.   I guess back in my day (boy do I sound like an  old fart!) a girl who wore too much make-up was considered a slut but times are different now- you have Facebook and Twitter to help determine that.  The truth is that my daughter wanted to stand out just like I did when I was a teen.  I have to accept that and the fact that she's growing up whether I like it or not.  

Having the power to wave the magic wand of make-up can be a two edged sword - you begin to love it so much you hate to see yourself without it - the true you - the one whose earned those winkles, blemishes, dark spots, scars and all.   But at the end of the day, that's who you really are - the person whose lived a life that gives you those badges of honor if you allow yourself to see them as that.  So this is me - the real me.   The one on the weekends when I'm going swimming with the kids or down the grocery store just doesn't bother with make-up.  To date no one has gone running  and screaming in horror at the sight of me.   It can be hard to be yourself in a world that treasures youth and perfection but at the point that you just stop caring about what the world thinks and you just allow yourself to be you.  You realize that physical perfection is a concept that no one can possibly live up to.   It frees you focus on other things that are more important and not worry about what other people think.   It's a lesson that comes with age and like a fine glass of wine - it's a lesson worth savoring.