Pretty Face.


It’s been a month since I’ve worn makeup. Mostly because I left my makeup bag at my parents house and the 45 minute drive just hasn’t felt worth it.  

I did my hair at 2am, tweezed my eyebrows in between blogs and put on 99cent lip gloss.

I have bumps on my face because I keep drinking soda and as a result, my clothes fit a little more snug than they did two weeks ago. I now have a bulge and Idc. I know it’ll go away in a week when I’m stressed out or not eating because the energy it takes to make a meal is beyond the amount I’m able to exert most evenings.

I know my skin will clear up when I get over this sugar crave. I know there will be another day, about two weeks from now when I won’t be so proud of my face and this moment will not even matter.

I’m simply basking it in. Letting myself be free enough to enjoy a moment where I feel pretty. Beautiful even. Worthy. Alive.

Those moments come and go. And to cherish them is to acknowledge that they will come again.

I’m proud of myself.

. . .

I’ve been in hiding for months. Trying to figure out the best way to make a million dollars in 3 months or at least give myself away enough to make a few bucks for the light bill.

I’ve been in love then out of love then out of touch so many times over the last few weeks I couldn’t tell you a time where I allowed myself the ability to think straight.

Life has been either overwhelming or anticlimactic. In between sorrow and smiles. Sometimes laughter. Sometimes tears. Sometimes, nothing at all. Like nothing nothing – like a blank stare into space for 10 solid straight minutes.

The need for adventure comes and goes. It’s fleeting. Doesn’t stay. Like ideas that pass through my head at night when I’m too tired to get up and execute.

I used to find meaning in everything — and at times I still do. But most of the time I see life as it is, just life. No fantasy, no deeper meaning, no eclipses and alien landings. No conspiracy theories or imaginary lessons that spring from the ground.

Sometimes it rains because the plants are thirsty. Or the earth shakes because it’s shifting. Or the clouds are circulating because they’re made to. Sometimes accidents are just accidents and kids cry because they’re tired.

But then there are days, like this day, where I believe in the magic of a clear mind, clear intentions, and clear space to believe in the miraculous. Even if the miraculous is that I did my hair, tweezed my eyebrows, and took a picture feeling the most beautiful I’ve felt in years.

Being hidden away is my favorite thing to be. It’s easier to hide. No arguments. No rumors. No stupid questions about my health. No analyzing. No awkward conversations with strangers who used to be friends.  I like being hidden. Straying away from people in the grocery store before they call my name and engage in asking me what path life has taken me on. 

Only for me to tell them I’m just here, writing, drinking wine and watching TV to drown out the voices of toddlers who need me to wipe their butt when they poop.

Life isn’t glamorous all the time. And that’s OK —not ideal, but OK.

We should just enjoy the little moments. The little victories. The day (or minute) where you feel really beautiful and proud of yourself for executing something on purpose.

I know life gets hard. I’ve been a part of it for 30 years. It’s hard to believe that this is just something we’ll have to continue doing for as long as we’re allowed. Sometimes I wonder how the hell we’re supposed to fill the time.

And before I can answer, life has filled the time for me. And I get my answer. Raising kids. Cleaning mess. Spouting poems. Giving ideas away. Sharing stories. Letting go of old things. Buying new ones. 

I know life will get you down. I know life will make you smile. I know life will be unpredictable and one day you’ll get a phone call that will either take your breath away or turn you to tears. We can all attest to that.

What we can do about it is choose everyday which day we’re going to make. One filled with obligation. Or one filled with choice.

And I hope that every time we have the opportunity, we will choose to fix our hair, tweeze our eyebrows, and take a picture — all in the name of simplicity and celebrating a pretty face.

 

1 thought on “Pretty Face.

  1. Sis, I felt this on a whole ‘notha level. From the diet breakouts, FUPA, months of hiding…online & especially in the grocery store, finding joy in the lil things, (or not), wanting to esc & appreciating just how far filled in eyebrows and Carmex will go on the days when I can muster up the energy to look pretty.

    I thought about you last week…maybe cus we’re on the same wavelength. I miss your gorgeous face & will be reaching out to schedule a coffee date soon.

    💜

    Like

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