I'm in Denial and I Know It

"I don't care what he's 'doing,'" she said. "I just want to get married." 

I wonder about those sort of situations. Sure, I would really, really, really like to get married. But to have no standards or expectations at all?

My fellow females are not always so discerning. Sometimes it is blatantly obvious this guy isn't good enough for her; she is an absolute angel, he needs a swift kick in the pants. 

Debbi Dickinson writes of her own tale of marrying down, and she knew she was doing it. But she was 28 (she's no youngster now, so this may have been when singlehood still had a blatant stigma) and she wanted to move on with her life, even if he was a liar. No surprise then when her marriage ceased to be. 

Sarah Berry's article references the need for brainpower, not just following the heart. 

When your gut grumbles, it's always important to listen says Christine Meinecke, PhD . . . "Instead of following your heart, use your head and trust your gut."

She says that while using your heart (along with your intellect and intuition) is important for forming a holistic picture of a person or situation, intensity of feeling can lead us to make hasty decisions.

Rather, good decisions are made when we take the time to listen to our intellect and intuition ("gut"). 

Meaning, what's the rush? If it is meant to be, a little time to ponder the matter can't hurt. 

The gal who professed her desperate desire for a husband got engaged, but the wedding was called off. I hope it was because she realized that no matter one's yearning for wedlock, one should still not sell themselves short while remaining realistic.

Lip Lining

"I am coming over to your house and you will show me how to put on lipstick," she said. Ma obliged. 

Ma had barely begun—she was just lining her lips with pencil when the neighbor flipped. "But—but—you're drawing outside your lips!" My mother watched in bemusement as the neighbor stormed out.

As collagen injections have anything to teach us, many like to exaggerate the fullness of their lips.

When lip lining, draw slightly—slightly—outside the natural lip line. It's okay to cheat, providing no one can tell. Looking like Camille from Say Yes to the Dress is the danger point. 

If one is uncomfortable with such exaggeration, just be sure to color on the edge, rather than in the edge. If one is too cautious with the lip pencil they may just end up making their lips look smaller, so be sure to cover every bit of lip.

I never used to lip line; I was too lazy and I thought I could get the same effect without it. I was proven wrong. 

Lip lining gives the lips a defined shape, and makes lipstick application more accurate. Before I lined my lips looked thinner, since I would apply lipstick "safely." Now when I line, my lips look fuller.

Filling the the entire lip with lip pencil will extend the life of the lipstick. 

Some mornings I'm in a rush, so I messily dab on lipstick, then use the pencil to make it more defined. The pencil will grab the color and let me move it around.

An "expert" once said that Wet n Wild's Color Icon Lipliner in 666 Brandy Wine matches all skintones (available at your local drugstore).

I am currently using Make Up For Ever Aqua Lip Waterproof Lipliner Pencil in Fuchsia 16C. It's a hot pink, and I like it because it disappears beneath my bright lip color rather than being an obvious line. The pencil consistency is great, gliding on smoothly without tugging or unevenness.

When applying lipstick (I prefer with a lip brush for accuracy) make sure to paint over, not in, the penciled lines; they should not be visible. 

While this video shows applying a red lip, watch how she lines and applies masterfully. Those sort of tips go beyond red lipstick.

(The bottom video's last five minutes or so are devoted to a photo of her lips with music in the background. ?)

No Boyfriend as a Roomie

This is a concept that is not really relevant to our community, but I found it interesting anyway. 

Studies have shown that couples that live together before marriage are more prone to divorce, despite the prevalence of public opinion that it is the best way to go. The theory until now was that those who cohabit out of wedlock are nontraditional, meaning they would not consider divorce to be scandalous. 

But this article, written by clinical psychiatrist Meg Jay, presents another view. 

When couples decide to move in together, it's not because they have made a deep decision; it's more that going back to their own places to brush their teeth and change every morning is a drag. So they "slide" into living together for convenience. And their motivations are different; most women think they are a step closer to marriage, men think they are postponing eventual commitment. Their different interpretations already poses a problem.  

Sharing a place has a host of economic benefits. Since a couple is splitting expenses, they can afford a nicer place, share technology, and save on a host of other things. But once in this situation, they can't get out. Splitting up is no longer a financial option.  

Now there is nowhere to go but forward, with marriage. Which leads to divorce all too quickly, since they weren't in the end a suitable couple, simply a casual fling, upgraded instead of tossed.  

I always wonder what it would be like to date with no specific goal in mind. I can't understand it. How do two people meet and not try to figure out if, on a deeper level, they were meant to be together? Wasted years are devoted to doomed relationships, all because no one made a point to be aware.

To Tone?

I always wondered about the point of toner. I never comprehended its purpose, but that didn't stop me in my teenage years when I would regularly soak a cotton ball of the stuff and swish it over my face after cleansing. 

Back then, when my cleaning ritual was not so thorough, the cotton ball would usually become grimy with residual dirt; nowadays, the cotton ball is squeaky clean, thanks to my face brush. 

I decided to google "purpose of toner," and this link shows a compilation of snippets from various publications, most stating that toner is unnecessary, except maybe in the case of very oily skin. 

My skin is combination, and it is the summers that unleash the facial oil; it is only during that sweltering time of year that I would use toner. 

One thing I've learned is that toners containing alcohol should be avoided; they just strip everything from the skin, and that is not the best way to go. 

Witch hazel is great stuff. For oily skin I would recommend Humphrey's Homeopathic Remedy Witch Hazel Oil Controlling Citrus Facial Toner. It contains no alcohol, I find it refreshing in the summer when I'm overheated, and I love the orange-y scent. 

Always check the ingredients when purchasing toner! Alcohol can often manage to squirrel its way in there.  

Fiction is Food for the Noodle

I love books. It's actually something stronger than love; a deep, desperate need for the written word. I'm not that taken with non-fiction; it is when I have in my arms the poetic prose that is a novel that I become alive. 

I find myself now rereading a book that I have previously devoured oh, say, five times. And yet I find myself postponing night-night, alternatively chuckling and being breathless with anticipation, despite my familiarity with the plot.  

And yet other perks besides entertainment arises from non-fiction fascination. 

Brain scans are revealing what happens in our heads when we read a detailed description, an evocative metaphor or an emotional exchange between characters. Stories, this research is showing, stimulate the brain and even change how we act in life.  

The parts of our brains involving the senses begin to perk up when reading about smells, descriptive objects, and movements.

The brain, it seems, does not make much of a distinction between reading about an experience and encountering it in real life; in each case, the same neurological regions are stimulated . . . Indeed, in one respect novels go beyond simulating reality to give readers an experience unavailable off the page: the opportunity to enter fully into other people’s thoughts and feelings. 

And by the fact that we experience that which others' experience, we become more kind. 

It is an exercise that hones our real-life social skills, another body of research suggests . . . individuals who frequently read fiction seem to be better able to understand other people, empathize with them and see the world from their perspective. This relationship persisted even after the researchers accounted for the possibility that more empathetic individuals might prefer reading novels . . . a similar result in preschool-age children: the more stories they had read to them, the keener their theory of mind — an effect that was also produced by watching movies but, curiously, not by watching television.

Maybe if children were read books more they would be nicer to others . . ?

Fiction, Dr. Oatley notes, “is a particularly useful simulation because negotiating the social world effectively is extremely tricky, requiring us to weigh up myriad interacting instances of cause and effect. Just as computer simulations can help us get to grips with complex problems such as flying a plane or forecasting the weather, so novels, stories and dramas can help us understand the complexities of social life.”

Selective Pickiness

30 Rock, "K is for Kabletown":

Liz meets a guy called Wesley in the dentist recovery room, and they seem to get along great until the laughing gas wears off. Then they part ways, hating each other's guts. Except they can't stop bumping into each other.  

Wesley: The universe wanted me to run into you again. And I finally think I know why.

Liz: Commencing eye-roll sequence.

Wesley: The universe wants us to settle for one another. Well, there has to be a reason why this keeps happening to us, Liz. I think fate is telling us this is the best we're ever going to get. We're each other's settling soul mates.

Liz: Settling soul mates? That is grim. And I've played Monopoly alone.

Wesley: I know it's not ideal, but we'd both benefit. Then I could open jars and kill bugs for you, and you could make look less gay at work functions. (He's British)

Liz: Look, I happen to believe in romantic—

Wesley: Don't even say, "romantic love." How many couples do you know that are actually in love that don't completely annoy one another?

(An old couple hobbles by)

Liz: Okay, what about them?

Old Woman: You wouldn't be complaining if you wore those shoes I bought you.

Old Man: You're an old _______. (It's not very polite)

Wesley: Why fight this? Grow old with me, Liz? In separate bedrooms?

Liz: No way. have a nice life. (walks away)

Wesley (calling after her): Think about it, Liz! It's what the universe wants! You'd have someone tell you when you're about to step in something!

(Liz promptly steps in something)

* * *

"And don't be so picky!" She wags a finger after me, a woman who could be interchangeable with any of my Babis.

I begin to fret; am I, truly, being "picky"? 

In terms of "settling" soulmates, I thought of Ponda Baba, who was constantly re-redt after I went out with him; I, too, thought that maybe his frequent re-occurrences was a sign from Above to just accept his unrequited advances. After becoming physically ill at the possibility of being his for life, I cast that fancy aside.

I thought of the romantic tale of my cousin, who was given up for spinster (late 30s). Her husband happens to be younger than her by a few years. 

At her vort, the groom's father said that his son never saw a girl twice. This went on for a decade. He meets her, and that's it: she's the one. No second-guessing.

Perhaps some of us are only presenting an image of pickiness . . . until the right one shows up.

It's MY Day

As a TCM aficionado, one becomes nostalgic for how life used to be not so very long ago. A world where men always wore suits and hats, women donned stoles and gloves, where children were attired in short-shorts even in the most frigid weather. 

Often, when the hero professes his love for the heroine, the two gaze in each other's eyes, and trot off hand in hand to city hall to be wed. 

The marriage of the Earl of Jersey and Virginia Cherrill, Chelsea Register Office, c. July 31, 1937.

Hold the phone. 

That's it? No desperate search for the wedding gown? No panicked screaming at caterers? No frantic fuss over flowers? 

The 1950 film Father of the Bride has Spencer Tracy agonizing over his daughter's "overboard" festivities: a church wedding followed by a reception in the house. Golly.  

When did it come to this? And it's not even the first time a woman feigned illness to come up with a wedding budget! 

We, too, now take it as a given. I confess some perplexity how money can be raised and donated for a one-night affair, and be referred to as "tzedakah." It would be one thing if it was essentials for home, but to raise money for a professional photographer? If a couple is in such dire financial straights, don't they need the funds for something a little more . . . permanent? 

My friend says that all she cares about is the ring. She'll happily get married in a rabbi's study in exchange for the rock of her dreams.

Everyone has their own "rock." What would a woman rather have instead of a party that'll last for a couple of hours? An upgraded apartment? An awesome oven? Savings for future expenses, like, say, children? When "hachnosas kallah" is mentioned in Eilu Devarim, it doesn't say "chassanah"; I believe they meant providing a needy bride with homemaking basics (especially in a time when there was no such thing as takeout). 

What if we downplayed the wedding and made the marriage the focus? Our grandparents most definitely had more muted nuptials. My father's parents were married in a DP camp. Yet in no time at all we have made big shindigs a requirement. 

These aren't my grandparents, but this is a photo of the first wedding in the Heidenheim DP camp, where they lived until the US would let them in.

Reality television is choking with wedding themed shows: Say Yes to the Dress, Bridezillas, My Fair Wedding with David Tutera, Four Weddings, just to name a few. 

Did we come up with this? Or did they?

There's a Dog Involved

I was sure I had a specific novel criteria. Historical, mostly. I find that sci-fi is often hard to read, as I can never visualize what the author is describing, although there are always a few notable exceptions. 

Take, for instance, To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis. Originally recommended to me by Bad4, she described it as a cross between Douglas Adams (love him!) and P.G. Wodehouse (could love him!) 

Douglas Adams, may he be canonized.

PG Wodehouse

Frankly, I was still dubious while taking the book from my library, and blandly turned to the first page. 

And laughed out loud.  

On the train. 

Repeatedly. 

Never. Happens.

The book deals with time travel in a mind-boggingly amusing fashion. I was so excited that I had found an entertaining author; however, when I eagerly pounced on the library for more of Willis' works, I was disappointed to find them heavier in tone, dark even, and not remotely as hysterical as To Say Nothing of the Dog. 

It takes place in the future, after the development of time-travel, yet in order to keep their department financed, scientists are running around history on a scavenger hunt for their demanding patroness. A time-traveler finds himself in the Victorian era, and Oscar Wilde hijinks ensue.

That should be teaser enough.

Why? Whyyyyyy?

I love mineral foundation. It covers beautifully, easily, and pretty flawlessly, providing a glow without being "dewy." But I have hit problems finding a match. 

The Sephora Collection Mineral Foundation Compact in D10 is how I left you guys last. I had swooned that it matched my neck, but on further contemplation it appears to leave my face ghostly-white. D25, the next yellow-undertoned shade, is too yellow/dark. 

I decided to experiment with mixing. I was peering at the available shades, hoping that maybe they came out with more color options, when a chirpy saleswoman offered assistance. I usually shoo them away, but I thought it couldn't hurt to ask. 

"These come in primarily pink and yellow undertones, right?" 

She looked at me as would a deer in headlights. 

"Um, if you want a darker shade than D10, the next one is this," she hazarded, tapping R15, which is blatantly pink and so not for me. 

Oy, "beauty consultants." No help at all. I shooed her away. 

I purchased D25 to see if I could somehow blend the two together, providing a little warmth to the Edgar Allen Poe-pasty visage that D10 leaves. I just buffed a little of the D25 after applying the D10, and now my face isn't sickly white. In fact, it pretty darn nearly matches my neck.

I love that it's in pressed, not loose, form, which makes it easier to travel with and to apply, since it doesn't fly everywhere and up my nose.  

Of course, once I found out a product I like and how to apply it, it ends up being discontinued. Frick. Hopefully they'll bring in a new mineral foundation that is identical to this one. But in the meantime I stocked up on spares for $7 each instead of $22.  

My horde should keep me good for the next few years, but this now means I have to go looking for a replacement. Update soon on the search. 

The New Age of Sacrifice

A gal I knew was in her mid-30s and single. She was lovely, wonderful, etc, etc, but, yeah, she was single. 

Her beloved grandfather suddenly took ill and passed away. During the shiva a guy was redt, and bing-bang-boom, a few months later they are engaged, then married. Beautiful. 

So, of course, there were those who say that her marriage came about due to her grandfather's heavenly intervention. 

Let me get this straight: In order to get married, I have to kill off my grandmother?