I come from a long line of ladies who like to look good.
My dad’s mom passed away in my teens, but I have very clear memories. Every day she wore a freshly pressed, floral print dress and sensible shoes. Her hair was curled, lipstick and rouge (that’s what they called it back then.. not blush) applied. She smelled of Noxema skin cream. Her eyes twinkled and she always smiled.
My mom and her sister have their hair done at the same hairdresser… going on a couple of decades now. They go in looking lovely and they come out looking lovely… plus they’ve caught up on the latest scuttlebutt.
They both follow fashion and know the best colors to wear for their skin type. They are well accessorized. I also have accessories, thanks to my mom, my aunt and my husband. But mostly I forget to put them on.
I helped my parents move to a senior retirement center on September 1st. The day before the move Mom had a hair appointment.
“I probably shouldn’t take time to do this now, I guess it’s silly” she lamented.
“No, Mom… it’s fine. You should go”.
So I dropped her off and picked her up an hour and a half later. She looked pulled together and refreshed. Which was a good thing. Next day the move was hard on her… but at least she didn’t have to worry about her hair.
I’ve never gotten the hang of all this stuff. I hate having someone fiddle with my hair. It takes at least two weeks to mentally gear up for a haircut. And no style please… just cut… no gunk on the hair.
I was lucky to have my maternal grandmother around as long as I did. And like her daughters, having hair done, make-up artfully applied, accessories donned, was important to her. Something pretty to wear mattered, even when she lost the ability to walk and was moved to more advanced assisted living.
I heard my name called the first time I stopped in to visit her there. She’d been waiting and saw me enter the building.
She rolled up in her wheelchair looking pretty as always …brown slacks, brown knit top with beading around the neck, cute sandals and her hair softly curled. She was smiling and her eyes twinkled.
Perhaps my grandmothers had the best secret of aging beauty… the twinkling eyes and the smiling face thing.
In the meantime, I’m gearing up for a hair cut. And I might even buy a new lipstick. But basically I’m sticking with the freshly scrubbed, tousled look.
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