Makeover

 

Can't believe that's me, all dolled up... it's such a novelty, being 'made over', i am like a giggly teenager trying on her first blusher and mascara, heh heh. It's been years since I last 'painted' my face. Nowadays its only a quick touch of eyebrow pencil and lipstick before I step out the door; having thrown out my makeup set long ago, i actually need to borrow from my kids if got formal occassion that needs something more elaborate than that.
But this was the full works, complete down to false eyelashes and hair stylist thrown in. Nope, it's not a heavy date, it's not someone's wedding, it's not a special occassion... just a photo-shoot for an article on women who have survived to be published in Her World, which my eldest princess talked me into doing.

She was tasked to find women who have survived traumatic life experiences, like death, disease, bankruptcy, accidents , abuse ... all the untold tragedies of life which happen to human beings everywhere everyday. I had recommended her one of our kindy teachers who just went thru a mastectomy for removal of a cancerous breast to be one of the interviewees. And then the kiddo asked me if I could tell my story of dealing with my husband's death too. So, since she had like 2 days to get the assignment done, this mama couldn't not help, right. Anyway i figured if what i say can help bring some cheer, some hope to someone who could be facing difficult situations, why not...

And that's what got me this make-over tingy over 2 hrs at a studio one evening. Seated by my side was a famous M'sian artiste - Ning Baizura - no less, and around me walked skinny beautified waifs who were there for their own foto shoot. I felt most certainly out of place...i was sure they were wondering what this old aunty with white hair is doing dolling up, ha ha. By the time they were thru with my face and my hair, i couldn't recognize myself. It was... dramatic, to say the least, tho I must confess my hair felt like wires held together with so much gel, and my eyelids felt like they had wings (the poor girl working on me couldn't find eyelashes to mascara, so she stuck on a pair of really curly obviously false ones heh heh!)

But the worst was yet to come. Posing for the shoot was a torture. I can't understand how models do it, putting up with facing the ever-flashing camera and blinding lights this, that and 1001 other ways. Plus i suspect they must use cement to plaster the smiles on. I was so awkward; the lady kept telling me to relax, look confident.... duh, how do you do that when every 2 mins, you are bombarded with instructions to put hand here, don't bend your knees, step back, step front,stick head out, pull stomach in, aiyoh yoh.... thank God they were satisfied after about 1/2 hour strutting and some 30 shots later. My poor colleague had to endure 2 changes of clothes and 70 shots! By the time they let me walk out, my eyes were smarting, my body ached from all the physical acrobatics... i was pooped..(it figures... old aunty mah)

I got home, and just for the fun of it, kept the make-up on till dinner to show the kids... they freaked out. My son hated it, my 2 girls at least were slightly more complimentary. And I had such a tough time cleaning all the muck off. I tell myself, I like being old aunty me better, and I thank God I don't have to put on any faces for Him, other than the one He gave me in the first place, because

...." I am fearfully and wonderfully made; His works are wonderful (that's me, in the original), I know that full well." .... Psalm 139:14