Making up is hard to do

My dear hubby M is a Lancome convert. Yes, ladies, it's true. I encouraged the addiction to the products, just as my mother encouraged the addiction to me. Funny how things run in families, and then jump across them.

When I met M, eons ago, he cut his own hair and had a full beard. Why? Because it was easier that way. Why mess with easy? He shortly learned thereafter that there was certainly something to be said for spending time on appearance. Manicure thyself and you make a picture that people will like, be drawn to. So he began to use what I used and soon his world was full of "ooo's" and "aaah's" and soft supple skin. Soft supple skin isn't important to *most* men, although I secretly believe it probably means more than any of those men let on. After all, when we look good, we feel good.

Sure, we can argue here that the $6 bottle of moisturizer purchased at the local pharmacy/grocery store made by the SAME people of the $26 bottle of behind the counter make up goodness in a department store really aren't so far apart. Or are they? (debate, debate, debate....)

I have to say, from watching M try both venues, he asks for the $26 bottle for it's supreme creamy goodness. (Or perhaps because he FEELS he's worth that extra $20.) Who knows. It works for him and makes him happy. What makes him happy, makes me happy. So, we share that cleansing, clearing, moisturizing, masking exfoliating regiment. That glow about him, whether physical or emotional sure makes that worth $20 for me too.

What I find so funny is other people's reactions to the statement that this item is for my husband. The saleswomen and salesmen are thrilled to learn their niche products are coming out of the closet and being used beyond the targeted woman audience. "Yes, this large bottle of PINK cleanser is for my husband, I need to green one for my oilier skin." Even my mother chuckled about this.

As I said, it makes sense, everyone wants to feel good. Nowadays most companies are cluing into the new male skin care market. They don't want to send their customers home with large PINK bottles, and with simple repackaging, it's suddenly an item any man can feel secure carrying around a store. Still, I love that my man still gets the PINK bottle and that he's secure enough to hand it to me to add to my bag of other goodies ask for it back later.

On another make-up note: I haven't been wearing any lately. Not a single stitch. For those who have known me a long time, this is an anomaly. I am usually a make-up queen. I love the stuff. I love figuring out different ways to apply it. Mostly I love how I look when I use it, the features I can play up. Without make-up, I feel plain. With make-up, I suddenly have deep featured eyes, smooth skin, cheekbones and lips with definition and color. I feel pretty. I am pretty.

But

I am pregnant. This happened the last time I was pregnant with G. I just really don't care about making an effort with myself for myself or anyone else. Not unless the situation really REQUIRES me to use my "best face." For example, I recently met my Dad's new girlfriend. That was a make-up occasion for sure. I wanted to look and feel my best. I have a couple more of those occasions coming up too. I have been mentally working on that this evening because I sure do like myself better in the mirror with make-up. I recognize myself. With no make-up, I tend not to linger at mirrors, and I become a glimpse of ghost, just a fleeting moment of myself.

Make-up has power. I was raised to believe that. Make-up will help you feel good about yourself. Make-up will prevent you from sleeping your day away, as it would be a waste of make-up. Make-up gets you noticed in class, by teacher and students alike. Make-up lets the world know you care.

I complained to my mother my freshman year of college that I wasn't finding anyone decent to date. (Lots of indecent people, drunk off the "I'm finally on my own" high that being a freshman seems to exude.) She asked how I went to class. (It was a 9 am class.) I said I got out of bed, put on sweats, hair in ponytail and went to class. She said "that's your problem, you aren't wearing make-up." And so, I changed my routine and did get noticed more. Power. See?

I hereby promise to start practicing make-up again in these times and trials of mine. I promise to look in the mirror more and appreciate who I am and what I have. AND ENJOY IT!

I can't wait to teach all this to my daughter. She'll take it or leave it, no matter. I know it's for me.