A small child smiled at me this morning and that one random smile made sunshine dance across my heart. I stood dumbfounded, such was the joy in that child’s face. For a few brief moments, we had ourselves a mutual adoration society. I wish I could know what he had been seeing while he smiled at me. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even notice the splotchy skin, double chin, baggy eyes, and wrinkles that I see when I look in the mirror. I found myself wishing I could see the world through his filter because it was a happy place at that moment in time.
In walking down the street of reality, I have shoulder length auburn hair that has a tendency to curl, if you use your imagination. Well, truth is that the only time it had a tendency to curl was when I got a mesh roller tangled in it and I refused to let my Mom cut it out. Two days later, and I thank God everyday for weekends, I became curler free. I had what could have been a curl placed strategically over what could have been a bald spot. It is important to note here that I’ve never wanted to be a beautician. Let’s dwell on my hair color for a minute. It is auburn. The fact that my youngest daughter used an orange crayon to color my hair in all of her artistic attempts at portraiture is unimportant but it would explain why all orange crayons in our house mysteriously disappeared. It would also explain the note on my list of things to do that says “write a letter to Crayola”. Why is there not an auburn crayon in the cheap box of 24? I never actually got around to sending the letter because it kept getting moved further down the list by things like, buy milk. Get the cat fixed before she has another litter of kittens. Pick up your kid at daycare. I’ve learned to prioritize. It’s not like Crayola ever called to say it was 5:00 p.m. and where the heck was my letter! Daycare, on the other hand, had my number on speed dial.
I am really quite average I guess. I’m 5’8″. My driver’s license says I weigh 135 lbs. and who wants to argue with a legal document? I am actually overweight now. I top the scales at 180, if I shave my legs and armpits before weighing in, wear a sleeveless silk blouse with no bra, and a pair of skimpy shorts. I leave the socks in the dresser drawer and the shoes come off. This kind of fashion statement is scary enough that the scale weighs lighter in self-defense. Weighing naked would be even better but since the only place I weigh myself is in the hallway at the doctor’s office, it’s something I haven’t tried. Yet. I don’t look horrid in my clothes, but getting naked is pretty scary. At 63, gravity is having its evil way with me. I’d never call myself beautiful, or even pretty, but on the other hand, I’ve never been barked at. I have been called “bitch” a few times, but we all have moments we are proud of. I also have lots of moments I’m not proud of but they don’t belong in the description on my physical appearance. And if you believe the saying “beauty is as beauty does”, I’ve been quite ugly at times in my life.
I wonder what you would see if you glanced up from what you are doing and I smiled at you, a random smile from a stranger? My friends will all think that I’ve gone bonkers, but I’m going to try that tomorrow, minus the mask, of course! I’m going to take just a few steps beyond normal and smile till my face hurts. I hope you smile back!