No, it’s not shoes…
Is it just Paul or do all middleaged husbands out there want your wives to have long hair? Paul seems to continue to see me as a teenager rather than a MAW and wants me to forever sport the same perky ponytail as I did in twelfth grade. But that once-cute ponytail has become increasingly less perky, and I wanted something short, sassy and fun. So I cut it off. (Sorry, honey!)
To Paul’s credit, he told me he loved it and that I looked pretty, but then added plaintively, “Why are all my girls cutting off all their hair?” (Lizzie chopped hers off, too.)
I’ve read that the reason women tend to cut their hair short as we get older is that when the face begins to droop and sag a little, long hair draws the eye down, making our faces look even more droopy. Do you think that’s true?
On another topic about appearance: who among you has “had work done” on your face, or is planning to have work done? Cause looking at this picture, I feel like I really need to do something about my upper lip. It has always been thin but now it’s practically nonexistent. I look like a muppet!I want plump, pillowy lips like Paul and Lizzie. I had those injections once (what are they called?) and I liked how I looked after the first few days. But it really, really hurt. One or two or even five of the injections were fine — a little painful but not too bad. But it went on and on. And on. And then the woman would say, “Just a couple more. You’re going to look so pretty,” and she’d do a couple more, and then a couple after that, and then two more, and then she’d say, “Just a few more, now. Almost done.” That night, my whole face ached, I felt like I was developing a migraine, and I was scared that she had put way too much in: for the first couple of days I looked ridiculous, like I was wearing those giant red wax lips that we used to buy (though I can’t fathom why we liked them). I didn’t want to go out in public for awhile.
It was like I was announcing: Hey! I’m not satisfied with my appearance! I had work done! And it went horribly wrong!
I’d really love to know: are you planning to “adjust” your appearance a little? Are you thinking of doing it for yourself or because of how the world views you? How much is too much? Or do you think it is completely unnecessary? Are we turning into a society like The Capitol in the Hunger Games series?Also, if you have had work done, have your husbands and/or family given you a hard time? As with my hair, Paul tells me I’m beautiful just the way I am and I don’t need to alter my appearance and blah blah blah, and in theory, I agree. Why should I have to try to maintain a youthful look when I know I am aging (and am proud of it)?
But still… I want pillowy lips. And a little fill between my eyebrows so I don’t look like I’m frowning all the time. And that’s all! Just a teeny bit of help! For now…
While I’m on the subject, and this may seem ridiculous (men, please stop reading here): I really want to have a breast reduction on my left breast. Ever since nursing my babies, my left breast is a good cup size bigger than my right, making me totally self-conscious. It’s not so much the size difference that I care about, but rather how it makes my clothes hang: my shirts all stretch out and down to the left, so my neckline is always completely off-center and droopy and saggy. I asked my doctor about it and she said there is no medical reason for a reduction, so insurance wouldn’t cover it, so I doubt I’ll have it done. She suggested I get a bra with a prosthesis in it so I can make my right side bigger. I’m not crazy about that idea but maybe it’s worth a try…
Now that I think about it, though, I realize that having “no medical reason to have it done” means that I have nice, healthy breasts. Which means that I don’t have breast cancer, like so many of my friends have developed. Jeez, I should be thrilled and grateful for what I have, rather than self-conscious.
So: Yay, left breast! You rock! Unlike my upper lip, you are plump and pillowy! And right breast, don’t feel bad! You are lovely, too! Just like a, a… a pomegranate! (I sound like I’m trying to write a really bad sonnet: Ode to My Left Breast…)