Oh, You Beautiful Selfie!

When I finally upgraded my cell phone, it came with a new feature: a “front-facing” camera designed to take “selfies.”   Though I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, I was kind of excited to make a few attempts, even though the smartphone only contained a minuscule 1.3 megapixel camera. Well, it turned out that my phone’s camera was not only smart, it was a little too truthful . . . especially in th7DDK8X4Fpoor lighting. I took A LOT of selfies before I could find even one I wanted to share on Facebook.

As I peruse my gallery of selfie attempts (the few that escaped the “delete” button) it’s easy to be self-critical. “I don’t like that one because it emphasizes my tall forehead.” “That one makes my jawline look too heavy.” “My hair is so thin and limp.” I find myself searching intently for a photo that magically minimizes my “problem areas” . . . like the dark under-eye circles that never go away, or the furrows between my brows that make me look unintentionally stern.   Even when I find what I consider a flattering shot, I realize there is no way to hide the reality (short of airbrushing or Photoshopping) that I’m not in my thirties . . .(or even forties) anymore.

I suspect I’m not the only one who struggles to feel beautiful. After church one day I chatted with a couple of friends who are in the same age-bracket. One shared about a new beauty product meant to perform anti-aging wonders around the eye area. Next she sang the praises of mascara. (She, like me, has invisible lashes without the help of Maybelline.) Finally, to sum it up, she said, “I’m just a hag without makeup.”   “Aren’t we all?” was my reply. Continue reading “Oh, You Beautiful Selfie!”

When Dad Can’t Drive Anymore

CIMG2659The garage looked cavernous without the lumbering, maroon car parked in its usual place. Only oil spots and track marks lingered as indicators of its long-time resident.

Pangs of sadness zinged my heart as I knew dad’s car, a 1991 Lincoln Continental, was gone forever. But I wasn’t grieving the loss of the vehicle as I much as I was mourning what its absence signified.   The sale of “Mr. Lincoln,” as we affectionately called the car, meant that my dad would never drive again. Continue reading “When Dad Can’t Drive Anymore”

Curling Irons and Grace

thMSC4O6C5It had been a bad hair week.  My curling iron was on the fritz and I had suffered the indignity of flat hair for several days.  Mission number one?  To buy a new hair appliance at the local drugstore.

I drove in early Saturday morning, sure to miss the crowds.  As I expected, the store was virtually empty.  I barely noticed the woman and her daughter who entered just behind me.  Making a beeline to the hair care aisle, I no sooner had began to survey the very sparse selection of curling irons when I realized the pair were on the same mission.

They sidled in from the left, and I kindly moved to my right.  But my attitude quickly changed as they began reaching for the very last curling iron in the size I wanted.  “I WAS HERE FIRST!!!”  I internally screamed.  “That curling iron should be MINE,” I seethed silently.  Thankfully, they put “my” curling iron back on its hook and moved down the aisle.  I snatched it quickly before someone else could. Continue reading “Curling Irons and Grace”