Vanity

I am not a pretty woman. Not naturally. I consider myself an artist when it comes to makeup application though, so I pass for somewhat attractive. What I look like when I leave the house is drastically different from what I really look like. I believe I am extremely vain and it is becoming more and more important to me that I look good as time goes on. I don't apologize for it and I'm not ashamed. I like when people tell me I don't look old enough to have a son that age, or when I get glances on the street. Maybe they tell me that to be nice, or look at me because I look funny, but I like to think it's because I'm hot. I don't mind my age at all, but I don't want to look my age. I see Valerie Bertanelli who looks great at 50, and Kirstie Alley who I was recently astonished to find out is 60, and I am hopeful that I can look as good when that time comes. My mother has aged well, and so did my grandmother, even though they both worshiped the sun most of their lives, so there is hope. I keep out of the sun mostly, and wear sunscreen and moisturizer to make up for the abuse that I've done to the inside of my body throughout my life (although my brother, the doctor, says there is formaldehyde in Diet Coke, which I consider a great preservative. With the amount that I've consumed in my life, I should look good forever). I'm not against paying for a bit of help along the way either. Nothing wrong with Botox, and a few other minor adjustments, in my book. Being a bit fake on the outside is okay as long as I keep the inside real, right? Besides, I don't want to embarrass my kids by being the mom who has let herself go. I once told my son that if he didn't straighten up in school I would use my sub days to go to all his classes with him until he did. This didn't faze him. Then I told him I wouldn't wear makeup if I had to go to class with him. His eyes widened in horror. I never had to go to school with him.