Looks And Women

My Mom always cared about my opinion and what I thought about her clothes and make-up.  Even when she got older (in her 60s), she still cared about her looks, and my approval or not.

I'd pick her up from the house, be rushed because I was late taking her to one of her many doctor appts.  She'd sit there quiet in the car while I raced down the streets, and finally she couldn't stand it, "Is this blouse okay?" (it was usually one of mine)

I'd glance over, "Looks great, Mom."

I'd try to concentrate back on the road because we were late and there was traffic, and she'd have another question for me, that she asked in a child-like, innocent voice, "and what about my make up?"

I'd glance again and reply, "It looks fine, Mom.  I like it."

Then she'd smile as she turned to gaze out the window.

Then, "Are you sure?  I tried a new eyeshadow."

"Yes, Mom.  Really."  Too worried to tell her the green wasn't the BEST color, or else she'd make me turn around and drive her back home.

My Mom would even wear her wigs to the Emergency Rooms.  Or not want to me to take her to the ER if she hadn't had a bath.  "Mom, you really need to go, who cares about a bath," I'd stress to her.  She would tell me, "Just bathe me tonight after you get off of work, then I'll go in tomorrow."  Most times, that meant she would put me off giving her a bath, and a couple of days would go by and her breathing would get too bad and I would have to call 911 to take her in because I couldn't get her to the car by myself.

She always cared so much what others thought of her.  I finally told her the truth one day, "Mom, no one cares about how you look, we are all too busy worrying how WE look."  The running joke was, "Not everything is about you. "

I really tried to stress to her that people worried more about themselves; and that they prolly didn't even notice her.  But, I do wish I would have looked over at her closely EVERY TIME we went somewhere.  That *I* initiated words of encouragement about her appearance and expressed something good about her appearance - her wig, lipstick, clothes, jeans, foundation.  I now wish I would give her what she yearned for most - comfort from her only daughter that she looked okay.

I seriously meant it that my Mom would wear her wigs to the Emergency Room.  They'd wheel her down the hallway on a gurney for an x-ray of her lungs, and her wig would move sideways and she'd try to fix it, like no one ever noticed. ;)

One time I visited my Grandmother in a nursing community in Georgia.  That particular day, they rounded up all the elderly folks on a bus and shuffled them to a big department store, before it was open to the public.  They served orange juice and a small snack to the group of fine, distinguished, very old, wrinkled men and women.  I was astonished that the only place in the store with helpers was the cosmetics counter!  Here were 80+ year-old women with deep wrinkles, buying wrinkle creams and solutions.  I was mortified at the ladies behind the counter taking my Grandma's money and her friends.

Someone told me once, "It doesn't matter how old a woman gets, they ALWAYS want to look good."  My Mom enjoyed still trying to look her best in a hospital bed away from home, even though it was tough.  I would comb her hair, bring her emery boards for her nails, wash her face a night for her.

I know I cannot go out of the house without mascara and lipstick (I look scary), but I do wonder if one day I wont care.  Thirty years from now (if I'm unlucky/lucky) to be alive, will I still wonder about my haircut and want to put on makeup?

Remember, though, "Everyone is too busy worrying about how they look, rather than how you look."

My Mom was an obese child.  Her nickname was "Toni Toni two by four, can't get through the bathroom door, so she did it on the floor."

She was made fun of her WHOLE childhood and therefore, she was obsessed with her weight as an adult.  If she gained weight from the steroids she had to take for her emphysema, she would literally not want to leave the house.  She was miserable until she got back down to a size 8, and then upset she wasn't her size 4 that she was most her adult life.

It makes sense why I also care a lot about how I look, because that's what I learned from her as a child; what I witnessed obsessively.  I also know so many other women that their happiness is directly dependent on their looks (how they think others see themselves) - whether via attractiveness, clothes, or weight.  Usually, our weight the most.

We YEARN to hear from others if we look okay, new blouse, etc.  Compliments can make or break a girls spirit.  Sad, isn't it? 

My Mom was very lucky in that she didn't look her age.  You would only know she was prolly in her 50s/60s if you saw her real hair color under the wigs.  She used Neutrogena wrinkle cream and she had no crows feet or deep wrinkles at all.  Lucky bitch.  Gosh I miss her with all my heart.  What I wouldn't give to tell her I love the shirt she chose to wear, give her a big long hug, and help her wash her face so she can put on her wrinkle cream.