Ravishing, that’s me.

I think I have sleep apnea. I frequently wake up choking. It’s horrible and scary. My physician brother-in-law suggests I see my doctor. But that’s not happening anytime soon since I have cataract surgery on Wednesday. Which means no make-up for several weeks. Which means hiding in the house.

I’m a redhead. Redheads have NO color. Each night I smear my face with Albolene cream, wipe with tissues, then rinse it straight down the drain. I go from a person with eyelashes to Casper the Friendly Ghost in five minutes.

Since the doctor has to wait, I went to Amazon and bought a very flattering chin strap intended to hold my mouth shut all night.

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It’s a good thing I landed a man years ago! I’ll walk you through my night time routine.

First, the Albolene, tissues, and rinsing. Next, I put on my Mishri outfit. Mishri is our darling eight-year-old granddaughter. When she was three or four, she was only allowed to choose her clothing on Sundays. Her style sense tended toward plaids with prints, dresses over pants, possibly backward stuff. You get the picture.

My Mishri outfits are sloppy cotton PJ bottoms worn with old print cotton dresses. Not a good look, but very comfy.

Then, it’s on to brushing and flossing. After that, I shove my brux appliance into my mouth. That’s intended to keep me from grinding my teeth.

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Lastly on with the beautiful black chin strap. In spite of washing it several times it still bleeds dark blue ink all over my pillowcase. I wake in the morning with grooves in my cheeks and a blue smear under my chin.

Poor old Jimmy didn’t know what he’d hooked up with back in 2005! That was pre-chin-strap, brux, and Mishri clothes. In the early years I dolled myself up in Victoria’s Secret slinky nighties and robes. But hey, he fooled me too. He cooked, leading me to believe he was skilled in the kitchen. Not!

Poor guy.  He can’t walk out on me now. No prenup, so he’s stuck with Casper, brux, chin-strap and all.

Somewhat related posts:

My no-good-very-bad High School boyfriend.

Dating at Fifty

 

Another reason being sixty-five is great

Being old is terrific because I no longer care what anyone thinks. Sometimes I go entire days...(drum-roll please) WITHOUT WEARING MAKEUP!  

Red heads have no natural color. Well….I guess we do. White on white. No color in our eyebrows.  No color in our lashes.  Our only visible hues are freckles and the hair on our heads.  If we didn’t have freckles and hair we wouldn’t be visible in a snowstorm.

I started wearing make-up in 10th grade.  I carried my cosmetics in a small, square, white case. It had a handle on top and a mirror in the lid.  I would sit at the kitchen table, morning light streaming in the back windows, and apply my eyes.  When I finished Mother would often say, “Now you should sign your chin.”

My high school boyfriend once asked, “Why bother wearing makeup?  You don’t need it at all”  The following date I met him at the door, bare-faced and smiling.  He took one long look and stated, “I was wrong.  You need make-up.” (have I mentioned he was a terrible first boyfriend?)

My sweet husband tells me all the time I’m pretty without it.  He’s lying and I love him for it.  I am sixty-five.  Even on my best day, wearing professionally applied war-paint, I’m passable at best.  At sixty-five passable is just fine.

Now that I’m old I sometimes skip putting on a face! That saves 10 minutes of my life for other stuff….like sitting on my ass and reading. Or coloring. Coloring is a delicious pastime.

If I added up all the time spent smearing on a face I’d have decades. I’d likely also have no husband.
Guys tend to like women with visible faces. However, once they are nabbed one can let themselves go!  Yay for being old.

Hey you people, start reading my blog. I know you’re out there.

As a reward for “following” me, perhaps I’ll post a photo of me without makeup! (NOT!)

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This is my drawer full of war paint.
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The oceans of brushes I have for applying war paint.  I probably only use about three, but they are old friends.  I give them a shampoo bath about once a month and they repay the favor by manifesting a face on my head (almost) every day.