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Reflections December 2012

“60 & Beyond” Quintessential Finishing School

Take Nothing For Granted

By Peggy Henderson

Because mirrors don’t lie, I spend even less time in front of my bathroom mirror than I did in my 30s. The best part of my face is my smile. I’ve found that a smile lifts jowls, wrinkles, scars, as well as one’s spirit.

There was a time in my life when I thought it was normal to pull on a pair of jeans and a sweater, apply glossy lipstick, a smidge of mascara and dash out the door. The hair thing was a no- brainer. I’d use a hair band, or tuck the ends behind my pierced ears. I usually had my large, black sunglasses on or pushed up on my head, Jackie Kennedy style.

Life was simpatico. Uncomplicated.

Yes, I was in my third decade and lived in the Peter, Paul and Mary, the Beatles and Martin Luther King, Jr. era. I was married, mothered two children and didn’t work outside the home. And for the record, I did “dress” when the occasion required it.

That was 27 years ago. I still wear jeans, sweaters and now, prescription sunglasses. Because mirrors don’t lie, I spend even less time in front of my bathroom mirror than I did in my 30s. The best part of my face is my smile. I’ve found that a smile lifts jowls, wrinkles, scars, as well as one’s spirit. (It’s difficult to smile 24/7.)

Recently I’ve added yet another task to my out-and-about checklist to pacify my mind. I’m not happy about it because I was born a random person. I love spontaneity. I don’t like lists but since I’ve finally grown up in the mature sense of the word, I exist by them.

The task requires using those pesky mirrors before and after leaving the house. The impetus for this exercise is pure fear precipitated by past episodes of public humiliation. Those blunders begin with wardrobe, cosmetics and jewelry episodes and close with a bumbershoot snafu.

Jewelry. While shopping at Target, an empathetic lady informed me that I had only one earring dangling from my ear. “Oh dear, looks like you’ve lost one of your earrings.” I thanked her for telling me, and was simultaneously ecstatic that I had really not lost it and irritated that its silver partner had also not been properly attached.

Wardrobe fiascos like the miss-matching of colors are easily forgiven. The black trouser hose matched with the identical hose – but in navy. Ditto for the identical pair of shoes; black and navy. But, for the sake of self-esteem, at least match the style of the shoe.

Cosmetics makes me want to join a Shambhala community and spend my afternoons meditating make-up free. I blame it on poor lighting but more than once I’ve caught myself wearing pink sunrise lipstick with a red jacket. On a whim, I’ve worn too much blush in the daytime and paid the price in arched eyebrows from a friend. The real bummer is when I tried an under-the-eyes cover-up stick with black eyeliner. I looked like Ricky the raccoon.

I’ll end my tale with my umbrella washout. Picture a heavy downpour, and an impatient me storms out of Publix with a dysfunctional umbrella that drapes over my wet head like a shroud. Reaching my locked car with my two grocery bags in one hand and umbrella and handbag in the other, I drop my car keys that land defiantly under the car door. This could have happened to anybody, any age, but somehow it just looks more pitiful when it isn’t a cute, young thing bending over and under her car.

Therefore I now use mirrors as tools. My mirrors are like dogs are to humans, best friends. My best buddy is my car seat-mirror. There I can check my hopefully minimal makeup and coordinated accessories close up and with objective clarity.

I’ve learned that I can no longer take for granted the same routines that worked in my prime time. I’m game. I’m open to change. I’m ready and able to accept with gratitude anything that will allow me to live with grace.

In closing, an Estonian Proverb: “Who does not thank for little, will not thank for much.”

 

A Quintessential Finishing School Saga

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