Beauty Treatment

When I was in college I opened a fortune cookie that read, "The greatest cosmetic for beauty is happiness". I kept this fortune in my jewelry box for years and years (and still stocked up on Clinique bonuses in the meantime).

I'm now a true believer in this fortune. Happiness - and confidence - are keys to beauty.

I've always been tough on my own appearance. Like too many women, I hate having my picture taken and hate looking at those pictures. I've wasted countless hours, days, weeks anguishing over my weight, my skin, my nose, my hair, and just about every mundane body issue you can imagine.

And now I'm a new mother, with less sleep and time to myself. My appearance has fallen low on my to-do list. Add dark circles, eyebrows that need plucking, and a body with less than the desired amount of exercise to the equation -- you get the picture.

Yet, this weekend I asked a stranger to take picture of my daughter and me in the swimming pool. Yes, I was wearing a bathing suit. Why, you ask? Because my desire to capture these moments on film outweighs my insecurity regarding my appearance.

The pictures showed me with wet hair, slicked into an Eddie Munster 'do. White skin. And did I mention I was wearing a bathing suit? And yet, they ain't bad. Why? Because I'm holding my daughter in these pictures and she is happy and having a great time. I feel fulfilled and I think it shows

But fulfillment isn't the only beauty secret here. I feel proud of myself. I didn't let a biological clock, a late- or never- entrance of Mr. Right, or fear stop me from making my own dream come true. It wasn't an easy decision to make, it wasn't easy to get her here, and it isn't easy to do on my own --- but I did it anyway and I continue to do it every day. And that day-by-day accomplishment not only feels good, I think it looks good.

The Gold Prom Dress

When I was a senior in high school I was absolutely, positively determined to have the coolest prom dress on the planet.

I didn't want the typical dress from the local mall that every other girl would be wearing. I wanted something unique, different, a stand out. It was my mission --- and you know that nothing stands between a 17 year old girl and her mission.

My family and I were going on spring vacation to Florida and this seemed like the perfect place to find my dress. Although I am not a shopper, I dragged my entire family to many, many malls that vacation. I tried on short dresses, long gowns, Madonna-inspired creations (it was the 80s), and Jessica McClintock Cinderella frocks. None of them worked.

I tried on shiny gowns, black gowns, fluorescent gowns (again, it was the 80s). Nada.

I tried on skinny dresses, big poofy dresses ---- no dice.

My family was beginning to revolt. It looked like we would leave the Sunshine State without my prom dress. As my mother put it, "You're going to look pretty funny at your prom in your birthday suit." (Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom). And then we went into the last store.

There it was. A gold lame (reminder: it was the 80s) creation that was tight in the right places, poofy in the right places, and completely unique and original. It was worth the wait.

Thinking back on this dress has reminded me of many things in life I had to work extra hard to get. My education and subsequent career, my daughter, and yes, that gold prom dress. And although along the way it seemed in all of these situations like I might never make it to the finish line, I did. And the reward was greater than if it had come to me easily.

Check, please!

I stole away from work yesterday to go on a lunch date. (Yes, I told my office manager that I had a meeting at another office --- is there anything wrong with that????)

This guy caught my attention because he is both funny and smart - a rare combination. I showed up at the designated restaurant right on time, and he was already there and seated -- bonus points! He was attractive in an alternative, metal earring sort of way -- definitely not my normal gig, but I was willing to be open-minded. The conversation was easy, candid and entertaining and he actually asked questions about me and my life -- what a novel concept.

I liked him. I wasn't sure that I liked him, but I was having a good time and was entertained by his stories about parenting his teenage kids. While talking to him I was asking myself if I'd go out with him again, and then the check came. Keep in mind that he invited me to lunch (we'd originally planned on coffee) and that the total bill was $25. He got out his credit card and I gestured toward my wallet when he said, and I quote,

"I can just buy the whole lunch if you want me to."

Wow. Sounds like a line that would fly out of Humphrey Bogart's mouth ... not.

For a moment I was really surprised. And then I recovered and said, "Oh thanks, but I'll pay half," and I did. I walked back to my office assuming that he too realized that we weren't 'a match' and this was his not-so-subtle way of imparting this verdict to me.

Wasn't I surprised to get a text that evening thanking me for lunch (or for paying my half?) and saying he hoped we could do it again soon. ???????? !!!!!!!!!!!. This morning he sent me an e-mail with the same sentiment.

Does this mean he likes me, but truly didn't want to pay for my lunch ???? I'm sorry, I am a feminist and a working woman, but when you invite someone out for lunch, pay the damn bill. If she makes a move for her wallet, be a man and say, "No, please allow me." If you don't, it sends a strong message that you are either not interested, have poor manners or have no balls.

Time Share

Molly and I were out to dinner tonight, hashing out our latest relationship follies. The guy she liked so much a week ago is now texting, calling and annoying her to the point of no return. We discussed the problem we both share: Yes, we'd like to be dating someone, but No, we cannot and will not drop our entire lives to be with that person. We have jobs, homes, friends, our own interests. We need oxygen.

And then we stumbled across a brilliant idea ... what we really need is a Time Share Man. We could each have him for 2 nights a week, max. He can spend the remaining three nights working out, missing us, and doing odd jobs around our homes.

Yes, this does sound like an episode of that Mormon HBO show. Okay, I'll accept that. No, we won't wear their clothes or hair styles.