|I'm just not going to go there.|
Which leads me to my next diva resolution: shy away from anything permanent. I taught for several years in the federal prison system where tattoos were de rigeur. The ink markings I saw, folks, convinced me never to engage in such folly. Granted, you may have something better at your disposal than the engine stolen from my cassette tape player and a Bic pen, but what you love today, you may hate tomorrow or in 10 years time, especially when your skin has sagged like an elephant's ankles. The number of shaved scalps with light bulbs, the skulls, and the expletives I have seen emblazoned on murderers is more than you will ever seen unless you are a prison guard. I know none of you are destined for hard time in the clink, but do remember that classy people usually say "no" to tats, at least to the large ones in the obvious places. You may be trying to look for a job one of these days and some tats are harder to hide than others (especially if you are going bald). In my humble opinion, if you're a diva, you should probably avoid the whole tattoo arena. I try to stick with expensive jewelry instead.
|Now this, I could go for.|
Sunscreen, on the other hand, should be slathered on with abandon. And when somebody finds the magic sunscreen that does not render my face looking like an oil well, please pass on the recommendation. I am a loyal user and have recently started applying it to my hands and decolletage in addition to my countenance since (to be generous) my face looks to be late thirty something and my neck and hands look to be Betty White something. Get it all over, ladies, or you're going to be destined to turtlenecks in the near future.
|In the interest of full disclosure, |
this is NOT my neck.
I am looking to patent (or buy) bras that deal with back fat. Honestly, you'd think a little extra padding in this region wouldn't be a big deal, but fleshy pockets hanging out from below your armpits are simply not a pretty thing to look at. A long time ago when I lived in Taiwan, I had two department store ladies wrestle me into a dressing room the size of a child's wardrobe and squeeze and jam every CENTIMETRE of loose skin from my tummy up into a cleavage extravaganza. I came out flushed and fondled and looking like Betty Boop. Now those ladies knew the trick of transferring back fat to the front. Somebody should hunt them down and get them a segment on Ellen.
Did you know knees can grow bangs? When you shave your legs, do the whole thing, especially if you wear dresses that go above the knees. If you're a primary school teacher this is especially important; children petting you like a kitten during read aloud can be a bit disconcerting. Maybe that's why so many of my friends wax...
|I didn't shave that day so I'm wearing trousers.|
And while I'm on the teacher-as-diva bandwagon...This year I am going to find an exercise/machine that targets bingo wings. Given that fact that I have never lifted an arm to play bingo in my life (Oh, that might be the key!), I shouldn't have to deal with this residual arm fat that has its own mind when I take marker to whiteboard. Teachers should get their own discount for training or surgery to eliminate this womanly vice. I'd really like to go sleeveless on those 100 degree plus days, but the wings stop me from even contemplating it.
|No, I do NOT want Madonna's arms, |
just a little less jiggle.
The wrinkle dilemma..creams, lasers, botox? Grow old with grace like Judy Densch? What's it going to be? Short of the knife, I'm open. People say I look younger since I've had my (non-facial) surgery, but that's probably because the pain killers have reduced my normally scrunched-up Muppet face and the fact that I can sleep upwards of 12 hours a day if I want to. I say that whatever holistic, non-invasive thing Ellen does, it's okay for me to do, too. She looks great for fifty and a bit and meets my gold standard for holistic living. Michelle and Barack are two of my favorite people on earth (and I am still waiting for my dinner invite), but nobody ever brings up their distinct lack of crinkliness. Do you think they have a dermatologist on standby in the White House? If you've got insights in the area of natural, but youngish (not Demi Moore youngish, though) rejuvenation, I'd like to hear about it. (And I'd also like to invest some money.)
|Smooth as silk and no bingo wings, either;|
she's my idol!
The hair. I will not go gently into that good night. My gorgeous sister who can afford to go grey because it will just illuminate her beauty like a light bulb has decided to embrace her silver status. I am four years her senior and I will go kicking and screaming before I give up my monthly appointment with Louise, my come-to-your-house hair lady. I'm a serious believer in spending money on your hair so it can distract from all your other imperfections.
|Every time I think I'm mildly cute, I get a picture taken|
next to my sister and I am put back in my place.
When in doubt, go flowy where you don't want extra attention and fitted where you do. This helps you minimize your perceived imperfections, maximize your assets and have you come off looking like Stevie Nicks or some romantic heroine from a period piece. Anyway, it's my go-to piece of advice and I stand by it, though you may be unable to stand by me without snorting with laughter.
Last, but not least, teach your children to take flattering photos of you and then post them on facebook. Then, of course, be sure you never go to any high school reunions or family gatherings again. Keep up the mystique...
|Why do you think this will be my fb profile|
forever? Because it is the cutest picture ever
and it looks nothing like me!
So there you have it: hide, accentuate, slather, shave, inject, abstain, dye and go flowy. That's all I've got, folks. Nobody ever said I was a beautiful diva, just a diva, so take it or leave it. In fact, I'm lying in bed in sweat pants and my husband's socks with my head propped up on an airline cushion so it's probably best that you ignore my advice and do what works for you!