Beauty and the Beast - Guest Post #2

The next guest post comes to you from one of the most popular bloggers in Miami, my friend Tere. She and I worked together at the American Heart Association.We had the same job - just she was in Miami and I was in Birmingham.  When I first met Tere, years ago at a work conference, probably in Tampa, I immediately saw this adorable, spitfire of a woman! She was outspoken, incredibly smart, and as it turns out, we had quite a few things in common. We hit it off immediately, and I want to publicly thank her for helping me through a rough patch in my life with the wonderful advice and encouragement she provided, and maybe.. someday soon.. while vacationing in south Florida, she and I can meet up for a good cup of Cuban coffee and some venting time. She is a fellow warrior and die hard fan of Wonder Woman. I am delighted to share with you her latest blog piece - Beauty and the Beast.

I'm disappointed in myself. No sense in beating around the bush: I'm frustrated with myself and feel stuck in a silly vortex that I can't climb out of. That I write these words now is my attempt to free myself from the terrible feelings, even if I can't find a solution to the actual matter at hand.

Of all my faults, vanity hasn't been one of them, and I sure as hell don't want to pick it up now. I fear I am, though. It seems that there is the way I see me, and then there's the way that my own actions lately have been showing me that maybe what I see, what I've long held to be true of me, is shifting, shifting into something I'm totally uncomfortable with and unhappy about. 

I was a fugly kid and learned early on to not let my (lack of) looks define me. And as I grew into womanhood I discovered that I liked clothes and make-up and jewelry, but as a form of self-expression, not to make people think I'm pretty and certainly not as anything that would validate me in the eyes of others. The way I've long seen myself is as a smart, nerdy, funny person who prefers to keep the beauty regimen simple and quick. I still love clothes and putting myself together nicely, but it's always felt like a personal thing. I've no idea what anyone else thinks about it, nor does it matter to me. I dunno, I long ago accepted my physical self as it was and that was that. 

To that end, I always said - no, I believed, truly believed - that I would accept the aging process the same way I'd accepted everything else about my face and body: without stressing about it or devoting too much time or attention to it. I could say that I'm just not that type of person who cares too much about her looks - because really, I don't. I care enough to want to look clean and appealing but not enough to devote more than 15 minutes and the simplest of tools to it. So I could say that's the deal and it'd be true, but a second truth is that I've always looked considerably younger than my age, and I've never really had any skin issues beyond dark under eye circles from hell, and somewhere along the way, that became my normal. Good skin, youthful face, the end. Forever.

But then I actually started to age, and, hot damn, it stressed me out, and it began to consume more and more space in my brain. Over the last couple of years, this has become the insidious little demon that lurks in and out of my life. It feels foreign and unlike me and upsetting, but because I can't solve the couple problems that have popped up, it's impossible to banish the negative thoughts and concerns.

The main problems, from what the mirror shows, is that my dark circles have gotten worse, and my skin can't decide if it's still dry, or oily, or both, or none. And with these changes, I'm having zero luck finding the right products to make them better, and so every morning I have my 10-minute "nothing can fix this crap" grousing, which just doesn't set a good tone for the day. Such shallow nonsense, right? Yet it's making me mad!

The dark circles - I had those down. I used my teen years and early 20's to perfect my concealer technique. But last year I had a baby, a baby who, 14 months later, is still a terrible sleeper and prevents me from getting more than two hours, tops, of sleep at a time. I can't even say that I'm exhausted because I'm 20 levels past that. But as a result, those dark circles have morphed into deep, permanent blotches that my usual concealer barely makes a dent on. I've been on this maddening quest to find something stronger and better, and half a dozen products and a chunk of cash later, everything I've tried is useless. Either I have to use a ton of product and it looks cakey (gross), or it creases all over the place, or it's too thin and makes me look like a clown. I've added eye cream (tried a few) to my routine (a routine that was once blessedly simple and quick: gentle face cleanser and Olay Complete for sensitive skin, and done), and they're pretty useless, as I notice zero difference. I don't know any more what it's going to take, or how much I'm going to have to spend, to get these suckers under control. What's the magic concealer? Who. The. Heck. Knows.

As for my face - likely it's been the pregnancy and the long, hard recovery I had that's messed it up. Or it could be, you know, hitting my mid-30's and my skin deciding to go nuts on me. Whatever it is, it's an utter mystery to me what the exact problem is, and not knowing that, I don't know how to fix it. My skin still feels dry but pores are noticeable, and there's a slight dullness. Diagnosis? Who. The. Heck. Knows.

I switched out my Olay when my skin was still dry and flaky after applying it, and tried a couple others before settling on one from Nature's Gate, but have been using Olay again to see what happens now that I'm not postpartum. I've tried nighttime retinol creams, and aqua glycolic ones, plus switching to a thicker cream for bedtime (for sensitive skin, no parabens, pure natural goodness, blah, blah, blah), and again, no improvement. I feel limited in my choices because I have sensitive skin, and I don't react well to products loaded with chemicals and fragrances. Yet it seems that if I really want to "fix" my skin, I'm going to need heavy-duty stuff. So, what magical potion, or combination of potions, can restore my skin to it previous loveliness? Who. The. Heck. Knows.

I share all this to make you understand how convoluted this whole thing has become for me, and how much I hate all of it. Sure, I hate the changes I'm experiencing, but when I say "I hate all of it", what I really mean is my own absorption with it, the way I'm taking way too much time to research what the problem might be and research products and worst of all, buying different things to try. Ain't nobody got money for that! 

So, what do I do with this now? Say it's a temporary situation and I'll be back to normal soon enough, or I find magical products that help a great deal, I'm still going to keep aging. It could be a slow process or next year I could look like a hag. When I think about this, I am at peace with the notion of aging, but I recognize now that it's only to a degree. I don't want to be ruled by this very natural part of life, but I also don't want to look older than my actual age, nor do I want to live with skin that was once normal and flattering enough but that's gone bad and can't be fixed unless I hack my face up with fillers and procedures - a realm that I don't ever want to step into because it's so terrifying to me. 

(And because this post is already long enough, I'll refrain from getting into an analysis of how messed up our society is, that we place such value on youth and beauty, to the point that even reasonable women can't escape worrying and wondering and devoting more time and energy to it than should be necessary.)

I guess I want my own aging process to be gentle. I see women older than me who look vibrant and healthy - that's what I want. That my face has wonked out this past year has alarmed me because it's not normal to me, and I fear it's the start of an unstoppable decline. And considering that never before in my life had I given any real, deep thought to the fact that, yeah, one day I will not look young and dewy, I feel caught off guard and am not ready to accept it. 

I'm trying, though. The absurdity of the situation is not lost on me, and I'm trying hard to get a sense of humor about it. Yes, I know I can stop obsessing and get some real perspective and peace. I can. I will.

But seriously, what's the friggin' cream and concealer that'll fix me up?

About Tere

Tere is a Cuban-American living in Miami, FL with her husband and two sons. She collects Wonder Woman memorabilia and has the uncanny ability to remember vast amounts of random, useless information but can’t remember that very important thing she had to do today. She’s obsessed with the psychology of crime and cults. In 6th grade, she missed the day they covered square roots and has never understood them.

Tere used to write about her life at A Mom, a Blog and the Life In-Between and is currently developing a new writing project.

The Power of Being a Mother

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh


That is so true. In ways I will never understand. See, I never gave birth. Was never pregnant. Not even once.
 
It's Mother's Day. For me, this day has always been mixed with various emotions. Last year, I wrote about the struggles I went through with my own mother.
 
You see, I think there are two different types of relationships with a mother and daughter: either you are super close or always at each other's throats. Growing up, I was the latter. You can find that post HERE.
 
I have even written about not having children. You can read that post HERE.
 
Instead of concentration on the negative (which is sort of .. well.. a MAJOR reason I am the way I am..) I decided to take a look at a different aspect.
 
Saturday afternoon, I sat with my friend, Julie, by the pool talking about Mother's Day. She told me how her husband was taking the kids to the store to pick out a treat for her, and that the family was going to come over on Sunday and celebrate. I made a joke about how I need a special day, just for not over populating the world...  We laughed a little, then I did throw in.. but I have had a chance to "sort of" mother a few.
Or to at least be a little special.. to someone..
 
Even though, biologically, I cannot.
 

Probably the most important role I can even have is being the Godmother of my niece, Autumn. Here she is the day that the Catholic Church pronounced me the "spiritual" mother of this child.

This little devil is my world. I love her so much. What I find fascinating, is that when I look at her - I see my eyes reflected right back at me. She is as close to a genetic link that will continue as I will ever get.

Luckily, my husband is crazy in love with her. My sister can rest assured, that no matter what happens, he and I will be there for her forever.

This is my first exchange student from Thailand - Pennapa. This picture was taken just a few days before 9/11. We took a trip to Savannah.

My sweet little "ping pong" as I loved to call her was Buddhist. Here she is celebrating her first Christmas with us. I got to play Santa. Honestly, I went crazy overboard buying gifts for her. I loved her with all of my heart. Sure, there were cultural differences.. but by the end of the year - PURE LOVE.

Pennapa & I - my first daughter. She lived with me for one year... and here she is NOW:

She is on the left.

My second exchange student was Camille from Paris. I took this pic of her at High Falls in Georgia. She only stayed with us a few weeks (her exchange was only during the summer.) But we had a lovely time.

This is her now:

My Third exchange student was Carole from Belgium. She lived with us for a few months, and her exchange program ended. Unfortunately, I do not have any of her photos scanned from her stay - but I do have one photo now:

My third exchange student was Chiara from Italy. She and I had a very fast bond, and I cherished every moment with her:

Chiara lived with us for about 8 months. We traveled all over the place and had a grand time!

Here is Chiara now:

My next exchange student was a boy from Belgium, named Patrick. Unfortunately, I do not have any of his pictures scanned either. Nor do I have any updated photos - we did not keep in touch. He only lived with our family for a couple of months.

My next exchange student was Roslin from Colombia.

Roslin and I had a great time together. Bless her heart, her english took a very long time to come together, but we made it work! She lived with us from for about 7 months (1 semester.)

Here she is now:

My next exchange student was my very first double placement. I ended up with 2 children at one time! Elena from Moldova and Jackie from Germany.

Jackie is on the left and Elena is on the right.

Out of all of my exchange students - Jackie and I were the most similar in personality. She lived with us for about 4 months.

Elena was with us for one year.

Here they are now:

Elena and I were super close while she was here. We still call each other "Pookie Bear." :-)

While Elena lived with us, by the following January she had a new "sibling." Matt from Australia.

Matt actually lived with us longer than any of our students. After Elena left, we ended up with another "summer" exchange student - Maria from Spain. Here is Matt & Maria.

After the summer - we ended up with another girl - Ilaria from Italy. She ended up living with us about 10 months.

I do not have a recent pic of Ilaria, but I do have one of Matt:

Two months after Ilaria arrived, we ended up moving to Alabama. So - Matt & Ilaria transferred to a different school in the fall. (Matt lived with us from Jan - December.)

When Matt was ready to leave, Ilaria was still with us, and next came Felipe from Brazil. The day we dropped Matt off at the airport, Felipe arrived!

For about 2 hours I had 3 children!

Felipe was definitely a "mama's boy" - (he would kill me for saying that.) But my little Brazilian stayed very close to my side.

After he left, we took a summer off. Then I got another double placement.

Kimhoy from Cambodia ended up living with us for 2 months in Alabama.

Then Mina - from Kurdistan (or as we know it - Northern Iraq.)

Mina lived with me for one year.

This picture was taken just days before my exhusband asked me for a divorce. So yes, I was a single mom for about 7 months. Mina was my rock, a beautiful example of a daughter. My first encounter with a muslim. She was there when I met the egyptian. To this day... she still can't believe it all happened.

This is Mina Now:

And here:

There are a few more very important people I need to introduce you to - the people/women that are responsible for passing on their genes:

This is my mother's mother - Betty Jo Terry (later Williams) with her nephew Herbert. (My grandfather's brother.)

Here are the apple's of my eye - my Grandma Betty with Papa (Henry Melvin Williams) and his mother my Granny (Beulah Mae Knowles (Williams)

I do not have any photos of my father's parents. My grandpa Thurston (Emerson Waldo Thurston) died when I was 4 and my grandma Thurston (Hazel Marie Small (Thurston) died when I was 15. I only saw them once a year. They lived in Indiana.

My Granny died when I was 17. My Grandma Betty died when I was 22 and my Papa died just two weeks shy of my college graduation (I was 24.)

This was also as close to a child as I will ever get. Nanook Thurston lived with me for 10 years until he went onto Dog Heaven. To learn more about the true love of my life - read that post HERE.

Finally - as for my mother, I have made peace with the teenage angst.

From her I have inherited my strength, my fiery personality, my quick temper, my creativity and my love of travel and the arts.

In closing....

I may not have given birth biologically, but I know what motherhood means.

Thoughts on Parenting - this Mother's Day.

I've got a mom.

Yep.

Her name is Mae.

She lives in Georgia.

I talk to her for a few minutes most days.

She had me when she was 22 years old.

I grew up in Macon.

Mom's never been truly sick, so I don't have a sob story of how she overcame her condition.

Mom's never suffered a chemical dependency (unless you count dexatrim and diet coke in the 80s.)

i just noticed i am writing in choppy sentences.

Here's the thing - my mom and I had a very tumultuous relationship.

What I mean by that - we fought like cats and dogs.

I don't remember a lot of arguing at all in my early years. I do remember her stress level hitting an all time high when my sister was still sleeping in a crib. Perhaps having to raise two small children, while her husband worked really long hours with very little pay was trying. Now that I am 37, I can only imagine what a young woman in her mid-20's was trying to do.

She had dreams. Sure. She wanted to model. She wanted to paint. She wanted to go to art school. She wanted to be an interior designer. That's about all I know.

I remember her taking her anger out on me sometimes. Not physically. Verbally.

I am sure she was VERY frustrated. I get that. And I forgive her.

I remember her volunteering at the dance studio I took classes at. She would help sew costumes, paint sets, do the "books" - all so that my sister and I could take classes.

I remember her volunteering with the local children's theater, eventually landing a position on the board - and in turn, my sister and I were offered theater classes (which we would otherwise not be able to afford.)

I remember her becoming the Girl Scout leader of Troop 222.

I remember her becoming my PTA president.

She was definitely a joiner - for someone who did not have many "close" girl friends (at least none that I remember.)

She did A LOT so that my sister and I could experience a lot.

I also remember her frustration over why her oldest daughter would "lose her breath" and feel dizzy so often. Looking back, panic disorder was not something anyone seemed to know anything about - perhaps it scared her. Perhaps she thought I was making it up to get attention - but it was definitely something we argued about.

I remember her feeling overly concerned for the teens I hung out with in high school. She always accused me of smoking, or drinking or doing drugs or even engaging in sexual activity. Perhaps she was scared. Perhaps she was judging a new generation of kids who dressed different, and listened to different music. Perhaps she was just afraid.

For anyone who knows me - I have never put a cigarette to my mouth - ever. I did not engage in sexual activity as a teen ager, nor did I drink or do drugs. Heck, anyone of my many boyfriends (who always dumped me because I would not do any one of those things) could attest to that.

I remember her getting upset over my failing grade in math. She thought I was not applying myself. Perhaps she was afraid I would never succeed. Little did we know (until I got into college - and was tested) that I have a learning disability in Math - called a General Arithmetic Disorder. Also, as an adult, I have recognized that I have a form of dyslexia with numbers. Of course - I was able to slide through the system and get a university degree with this issue.

Looking back - I wonder how I would have reacted to all of these issues with my child. Not sure. Will never know.

My mother has a very strong personality. She IS the boss in anything she chooses to do. Your typical capricorn. I, on the other hand - am an aquarius.

She has very strong opinions. She is very judgemental. She is very critical and expects nothing less than the absolute best from me.

It was hard living up to her expectations. She rarely, if ever, says she is proud.

The word "love" is not passed around our home.

I know she did her best. That's all any of us do. I don't think people intentionally chose to make mistakes.

With all of the fighting - I did learn a lot from her. I thought I would list the top ten things I learned from her:

1. To get involved. If there is something you are interested in - join!

2. Creativity is the way to go!

3. Good food, cinema and books are essential to good living.

4. Say what you mean - mean what you say.

5. Don't take Sh*t from anyone.

6. Make your own decisions.

7. The beach is waaaay cooler than the mountains.

8. Animals are great! Pets make a happier home.

9. Vampires and the horror genre rock!

10. Halloween is super fun and only home made costumes should win the prize!

As for me - why am I not a parent?

I have two theories:

1. I am selfish. I do not like feeling like someone/something needs me. It freaks me out.

2. My own mother complained about how ungrateful a child I was (daily) and how she sacrificed so much for me and in turn did without. (I think early on.. that taught me that motherhood is a wretched experience.)

Whatever the reason - it does not matter.

I believe that God is in control. If I were meant to be a mom, I would have been a mom. I also believe I have the mom I have today for a reason.

Trust me - she is a decent person. It's just that "moms" and "mothers day" was never a warm/fuzzy/holiday idea for me.

Do I think mother's should feel special? Absolutely. Do I think my mom did the best she could? Definitely.

Do I wish I were a mom? Absolutely not.

With that - I do hope that my friends, family, and readers that are proud mothers and feel that life is completely fulfilled by being a mom - I am soooo happy for you. Sincerly.


As for me - who knows what fulfills me?! Perhaps that's why my Destination is still Unknown.

PS - I want to CLAIRFY - I would not trade my mother in for another. Not one. She created me. My experiences and life are what makes me - me.