Thursday, December 30, 2010

The Good, The Bad, and The . . . Oh, I Can't Say It

Yep, that's me in the red lipstick.

Is it?

I hardly recognize myself. You might have that problem as well.

Because the truth is, if you were to knock on my door any given morning I would most likely look something more like this:

Surrounded by kids, no makeup, probably not showered, likely in pajamas - depends on if the clock has struck noon yet.

This, of course, is the naked nitty gritty of it:

There has never been a not-beyond-unflattering photo taken of me on Christmas morning (This being Christmas 2006). I have come to terms with this rendering of me. But I like the first one better. The photo of me with the kids is truth, flanked before and after by extremes that are only marginally representative of Jessica.

Our Stake Youth Presidencies - that would be Matt and Co. hosted an incredible evening on Wednesday last. A 1940's themed dinner and dance with special guests from each ward who came to tell us about their own experiences in the 1940's.

Teenagers and octogenarians fraternizing with some middle aged arbitration. No intimation that there were any disputes between our young and old, merely a means of "settling the differences" between young and old. There are a great many 'differences' stacked up in the 70 years between 84 and 14. And there is a great deal of good in throwing these unlikely dinner companions together.

After the dinner we all convened to the ballroom where a live orchestra and some experienced swingers awaited our frisky feet. A whole lot of 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2. Matt swung me round on my red shoes until my smile hurt like the day I got married and my muscles could barely hold my legs up. Our dear Hilda - A German who escaped to America during the war and is now a RoseParker through and through - held Ewan all evening while Matt and I danced. I tried twice to relieve her of the 12 pound burden but she wouldn't relinquish him.

In honor of dancing with my husband I wanted to look pretty:

This is nearly three hours worth of pretty.
Three hours!?
That's ridiculously self indulgent. As is the posting of so many photos of myself. Justified only by the fact that one must keep a record of the day they curled their hair. Which did not translate into curls for a day. Despite using approximately ALL the gel and hairspray I own, these were curls for . . . maybe two and a half hours.

This is me being Chani:

Matt calls it my poser lips.
Chani is a poser. That's why she always tilts the scale toward 'gorgeous' in her photos. She poses good.
Matt is right - those are poser lips - I do not regularly arrange my face thus. But I have a round face and this lengthens it in a Grace Kelly kind of way.
And I had best not go on in this opening of Pandora's Box of insecurities of the common housewife. As if having a round face were something to be ashamed of.

This is me being Grandma Leavitt:

I can see that this is a photo of my face in some particulars, but I have captured the era of Marba Rose in her youth - the mature kind of youth that comes before the mature kind of old.
If you look closely you can see the wrinkles at the corner of my eye.

Matt pointed them out to me a few days ago and said "We're getting old."
I said "You're getting old, I am the ageless Madonna."
He said "Madonna is fifty and nasty."
I said "The other Madonna."
He said "That's blasphemous."
I said "So is pointing out your wife's wrinkles."

Ok, this was not actually the conversation we had. It went something more like this:
Matt: I can see little wrinkles at the corners of your eyes. We're getting older.
Me: Yep.
Because what else do you say to such an inconvenient truth?

But while Matt and I danced, a fresh bloom of a youth who was once Matt's student asked him what year he was born. He was a bit evasive with her question.
"I have a secret for you," I told her, "I am a year older than him."
"NO WAY!" She exclaimed. "You look way younger than him."
It was kind of dark so I'm guessing she couldn't see my wrinkles.

See what I mean about the round face:

That is my real smile belying my real love for Matt.


Susan said...

You would have made a good WWII pinup girl.

Wayne said...

It is uncanny how much you and Chani both look like my mother when you glam up in that forties look. Scary in fact. And really nice.

chaniriiell said...

Awww, you look so great, Jess! Your makeup looks FANTASTIC! Hair, too.
We both look like grandma. :) And mom, with our squinty eyes and round faces.

And i do have a posy face, but you always have to be camera ready. hahaha

glad you had fun!

Shelby said...

You totally rocked the red lipstick!

Taryn said...

Looks like a lot of fun! And you look beautiful!

chaniriiell said...

Grrr. I wish you would just write every day, darnit!