The Weekender, and "Wake Up to Makeup"
It's recap time, because some interesting things have happened since I left SHU for spring break.
First of all, Kendra and I got stuck in 2.5 hours of traffic, causing me to miss my flight home to Los Angeles Friday night. That left me spending the night in the empty ZBT house, then catching a 5:56 train from South Orange to Newark Liberty International on Saturday morning. Within hours of arriving in LA, I met my grandmother and uncle for a burger at In-n-Out, then I was whisked up the 60 freeway to Las Vegas by my loving parents.
24 hours, 12 of which were spent on my butt. We checked in to our suite and spent the rest of the evening wandering the strip. 30 minutes of playing, $2 played, $86 won at the "Exotic Cars" slots in Caesar's Palace. 0 drinks consumed. 0 table games played. (I aim to remedy that at a later date, don't you worry.)
Around 1:00 AM on Sunday, I called it a night, and by noon, we had departed for Los Angeles because Dad had to work today. 4 more hours spent sitting.
Met Maryann for dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, then ran errands at Target, because I never seem to come home AND have things like shampoo in my shower. My hair now smells like grapefruit, and it has for over 12 hours. Impressive.
Today, I woke up early because I wanted to mini-road trip to the Sephora in Anaheim for makeup. A girl needs to feel pretty, after all. Mom went with me and ended up getting a makeover. Her colors have been totally updated, and she's all fresh and dewy looking without appearing like she's trying to be "young" and "hip" and "modern." She looks her age, but really polished and natural. I loved every minute of it, because in my 21 years of life, I've never seen her let herself be pampered. The woman does her own nails, buys drugstore makeup, and settles for "on sale" all the time, while making sure that Garrett and I have the best of everything that's available. It's about time she did something for herself, especially since now it's just her and Dad in the house.
When we got back to Long Beach, we grabbed some food, I booked a few appointments for the week (yay for rebonding my top retainer tomorrow morning at 8:30), and Mom said she needed to go to the grocery store.
This is where my day really gets introspective, believe it or not.
We were in the frozen food aisle when an African-American lady about Mom's age walked down the aisle towards us. I had control of the cart, so I shifted it in order to be less in her way. She looked up at me as she passed, and she said, "You have the most beautiful eyes."
I was blown away. She went straight down the aisle with not so much as a pause and I didn't see her again. The thing that was so remarkable, aside completely from the fact that a total stranger complimented me, was that it took me YEARS to learn to like the color of my eyes. There are days when I still don't like them. Not only that, but for all intents and purposes, my eyes are the same color as those of the woman who complimented me.
From freshman year of high school to freshman year of college, I wore colored contact lenses. My eyes were green. That is how people in college came to know me, and think I was "beautiful." I stopped wearing them September of sophomore year, and I've never worn them since.
I remember the first time Jordan really looked into my eyes. "You have such beautiful eyes," he said. Instead of thanking him, I said, "They're Mom's eyes. They look so much better on her."
"No," he said. "They are perfect on you." And then he quoted that song, "You're my brown-eyed girl."
That's when I knew I'd never change their color again. I still think my eyes look better on Mom. She's darker than I am, and it takes much less makeup for her to make them stand out. They stand out all on their own. I've spent years trying to perfect them on myself, because everything else about me is so light. Garrett got Dad's hazel-y eyes. Light brown with just a little bit of green. I always thought mine looked black. They are so dark you can hardly see the brown unless there's direct light shining onto them. Black eyes on a pale girl with reddish brown hair? Not pretty. Green eyes? Blue? Startling.
It all goes back to never feeling beautiful. No matter how much my parents told me I was, it never registered, and I never believed it. What mattered to me was the approval of my peers, which (surprise!) not even the green eyes gave me. For whatever reason, college in New Jersey qualified me as pretty, and being loved now is what qualifies me as beautiful.
I can tell you I've never felt more beautiful than during these past 18 months, and I've never loved my own eyes as much as I'm slowly learning to. It's amazing what about you strangers notice. This woman picked the one feature I never would have picked. I've had people ask me who colors my hair (I've never colored my hair) and how great my smile is. Those are the things I point to when somebody asks me what I like most about myself physically. My hair color, because it's completely natural and MINE, and my smile, because it took me five goddamn years in braces, headgear, and rubber bands to get it this perfect, are what I cite foremost.
Now, when people see my mother and me together and they wonder if we're related, I always tell them, "Yes we are, can't you see I have her eyes?"
♥
First of all, Kendra and I got stuck in 2.5 hours of traffic, causing me to miss my flight home to Los Angeles Friday night. That left me spending the night in the empty ZBT house, then catching a 5:56 train from South Orange to Newark Liberty International on Saturday morning. Within hours of arriving in LA, I met my grandmother and uncle for a burger at In-n-Out, then I was whisked up the 60 freeway to Las Vegas by my loving parents.
24 hours, 12 of which were spent on my butt. We checked in to our suite and spent the rest of the evening wandering the strip. 30 minutes of playing, $2 played, $86 won at the "Exotic Cars" slots in Caesar's Palace. 0 drinks consumed. 0 table games played. (I aim to remedy that at a later date, don't you worry.)
Around 1:00 AM on Sunday, I called it a night, and by noon, we had departed for Los Angeles because Dad had to work today. 4 more hours spent sitting.
Met Maryann for dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, then ran errands at Target, because I never seem to come home AND have things like shampoo in my shower. My hair now smells like grapefruit, and it has for over 12 hours. Impressive.
Today, I woke up early because I wanted to mini-road trip to the Sephora in Anaheim for makeup. A girl needs to feel pretty, after all. Mom went with me and ended up getting a makeover. Her colors have been totally updated, and she's all fresh and dewy looking without appearing like she's trying to be "young" and "hip" and "modern." She looks her age, but really polished and natural. I loved every minute of it, because in my 21 years of life, I've never seen her let herself be pampered. The woman does her own nails, buys drugstore makeup, and settles for "on sale" all the time, while making sure that Garrett and I have the best of everything that's available. It's about time she did something for herself, especially since now it's just her and Dad in the house.
When we got back to Long Beach, we grabbed some food, I booked a few appointments for the week (yay for rebonding my top retainer tomorrow morning at 8:30), and Mom said she needed to go to the grocery store.
This is where my day really gets introspective, believe it or not.
We were in the frozen food aisle when an African-American lady about Mom's age walked down the aisle towards us. I had control of the cart, so I shifted it in order to be less in her way. She looked up at me as she passed, and she said, "You have the most beautiful eyes."
I was blown away. She went straight down the aisle with not so much as a pause and I didn't see her again. The thing that was so remarkable, aside completely from the fact that a total stranger complimented me, was that it took me YEARS to learn to like the color of my eyes. There are days when I still don't like them. Not only that, but for all intents and purposes, my eyes are the same color as those of the woman who complimented me.
From freshman year of high school to freshman year of college, I wore colored contact lenses. My eyes were green. That is how people in college came to know me, and think I was "beautiful." I stopped wearing them September of sophomore year, and I've never worn them since.
I remember the first time Jordan really looked into my eyes. "You have such beautiful eyes," he said. Instead of thanking him, I said, "They're Mom's eyes. They look so much better on her."
"No," he said. "They are perfect on you." And then he quoted that song, "You're my brown-eyed girl."
That's when I knew I'd never change their color again. I still think my eyes look better on Mom. She's darker than I am, and it takes much less makeup for her to make them stand out. They stand out all on their own. I've spent years trying to perfect them on myself, because everything else about me is so light. Garrett got Dad's hazel-y eyes. Light brown with just a little bit of green. I always thought mine looked black. They are so dark you can hardly see the brown unless there's direct light shining onto them. Black eyes on a pale girl with reddish brown hair? Not pretty. Green eyes? Blue? Startling.
It all goes back to never feeling beautiful. No matter how much my parents told me I was, it never registered, and I never believed it. What mattered to me was the approval of my peers, which (surprise!) not even the green eyes gave me. For whatever reason, college in New Jersey qualified me as pretty, and being loved now is what qualifies me as beautiful.
I can tell you I've never felt more beautiful than during these past 18 months, and I've never loved my own eyes as much as I'm slowly learning to. It's amazing what about you strangers notice. This woman picked the one feature I never would have picked. I've had people ask me who colors my hair (I've never colored my hair) and how great my smile is. Those are the things I point to when somebody asks me what I like most about myself physically. My hair color, because it's completely natural and MINE, and my smile, because it took me five goddamn years in braces, headgear, and rubber bands to get it this perfect, are what I cite foremost.
Now, when people see my mother and me together and they wonder if we're related, I always tell them, "Yes we are, can't you see I have her eyes?"
♥