My brother, my friend.

My brother Mallory Joe has always been one of my closest friends.  He's my only sibling and I'm older by three years. 

NOTE:  I only refer to him as Mallory in a loving way.  Our personalities were parallel to Alex and Mallory Keaton on the 1980s show Family Ties.  I was like Alex and Joe was like Mallory.  We've always been able to laugh at ourselves... and each other.

Growing up, friends teased us.  They said it was weird that we got along so well.  "Chrisy and Joey never fight.  So weird."  It was true - mostly.  We generally got along and played well together as young kids, and as teenagers we were tight.

I attribute this NOT to any inherent kindness or gentleness within my brother Mallory Joe or me, but to Mother.  On the occasion we had a kid fight, she would say and do the following:

1. If we hit one another then tattled, Mom would say, "Chrisy, if you really need to hit your brother, go ahead.  I'll just watch.  Go on now.  Hit him.  What?  You don't want to.  Joey, maybe you'd like to hit your sister?  Come on... let her have it."  My brother Mallory Joe and I would look at each other like she was sooo stupid, and try not to laugh.  It worked though.



2. She dramatically lectured us after each argument about how there's NO ONE in the ENTIRE world as close as siblings.  The BLOOD that ran through our veins was sibling blood.  Not even she and Dad were that close.  NOTHING was more important than the relationship between siblings.  The lecture was powerful every time I heard it.

   
   


3. Mother always made us apologize, hug and say I love you.  Always.

Except... for the times she wasn't there to lead us in a rousing rendition of Kumbaya.  We relied on our training to find Shangri-La, and it usually went something like this...

[My brother Mallory Joe 17, me 19 (home from college for a weekend), ending an argument about something important like, what kind of drink he should (beer) or should NOT (a Blue Hawaiian - duh) order when I get he and his friends into a bar when they visit me at school and ALL sleep in my dorm room.]

Joe:  You're just an uptight bitch!
Me:  YOU'RE an uptight bitch!
Joe:  Ha ha.  Bitch.
Me:  Bitch.
Joe:  You're an idiot.
Me:  You're a bitch.

[...]

Joe:  Wanna go sit on the swing set and have a cigarette?
Me:  I don't have any.
Joe:  I do.
Me:  Okay...  I'm sorry.
Joe.  I'm sorry too.

We hug.  My brother Mallory Joe gets the cigarettes and a lighter.  We climb to the top of an old swing set in the backyard.  It's dark.  We sit quietly, and share one cigarette between the two of us.

Me:  Are you sure the neighbors can't see us?
Joe:  No.  Just hide the cherry.

[...]

Joe:  Hurry.  Here they come.
Me:  How can you tell?
Joe:  I know their lights.  Give me the smoke!  Go!

I hand my brother Mallory Joe the cigarette, run inside the house, grab his Polo Cologne and spray it all over myself and him as he comes in the back door.  We hear the garage door open.  We frantically wash our hands, run to the couch, assume relaxed positions and turn on the Weird Science video we'd rented for the 10th time that year.

Mom and Dad walk in, smile at each other and say, "Isn't it nice to see the kids enjoying each other?"

Kumbaya.  Puff-puff.

Does it hurt? Will it make me pretty? I'll do it!

Chris received an email recently from a business acquaintance who's launching a new web service.  It's called Beta Test Beauty and it's "...a market research service for skin and beauty-care makers..." They're seeking people who are interested in sampling products then answering a survey.  The products are provided free and participants will be paid.  I've signed up, but have no personal experience to share yet - good or bad.  Check it out if you'd like.

My Beauty Philosophy (today)
I don't begrudge any person for wanting to look attractive.  I currently don't judge women or men who choose to use Botox, Fillers, Thermage, Lasers, etc... if it enhances their self esteem.  I also admire those people who are at peace with their appearance and don't feel the need to moisturize, plump, fluff or pluck.  How freeing that must be.

My Skin History (like you care)
In the 1970s I recall laying in the sun with Mother.  If I was reading a book, resulting in my face looking down towards my lap, she would lovingly say, "Chrisy, tilt your head back.  Your face needs a little sun."  I was eleven.  She was only trying to be helpful.

In the 1980s I lifeguarded during the summers throughout high school and college.  I never wore sunscreen.  Ever.  On my days off, I sunbathed in a bikini so I wouldn't have Speedo tan lines.

During the winters while attending college at NAU in Flagstaff, Arizona, I worked at Snowbowl - a ski area - in the Rental Shop.  I loved having a tan face from skiing, and often sat outside during my work breaks, tipping my face to the strong, mountain sun.  No sunscreen.  Ever.

In the 1990s Chris and I raced mountain bikes.  The unique tan lines cyclists get are a badge of honor, but for a gal, not so pretty.  When not riding, I sunbathed to even out my tan.  For hours.  Again, no sunscreen.

Ruh-Roh (not looking like the other girls my age?)
When I turned 35 in 2001, I looked in the mirror and said, "Shit."  Years of sun worship had taken their toll.  I vowed to use sunscreen daily, leave behind my tanorexia, and pursue safe wrinkle-reducing creams and strategies.  Pale is *pretty*, I decided.  I also became a marketer's dream.

The Products (you name it, I tried it)
I've tried everything over the past seven years.  Expensive, inexpensive, and infomercial products.

Little by little my skin began looking better. 

I can't tell you if it was Creme De La Mer, Darphin, La Prairie, Strivectin, Mary Kay, faithful sunscreen usage, or Kathie Lee Gifford's stuff on QVC.  Maybe a combination of everything, but there was a definite improvement.  The fact that I hadn't been baking my skin for a few years helped, I'm certain.

Then, I plateaued around the age of 40.  Nothing seemed to work any more.

Mother (trying to be helpful, and usually right)
"You know Honey, a little Botox and Filler wouldn't hurt you...  I really like that More magazine.  You should read it..."  She's been trying to get me to read More since I was 35 and accused her of prematurely aging me. [FYI, Mother has only heard that Botox and Filler are a "good thing".]

Botox and Filler vs. Expensive Creams? (laughing, snickering, winking with those who know)
So I did it .  Not a lot of it, and only a couple of times.  Mother took me in July of 2007 and I got some Botox and Filler.  To be honest, it was too much Botox and since then, I've found the amount that softens deep lines without affecting expression.  I've been told by close friends that it's so subtle, why do I bother?  Because it makes me feel better.  That's why.

The only creams I use on my face now are Retin-A and Neutrogena SPF 45.

Confessions

1.  Even though I signed up for the Beta Test Beauty project, I can't imagine I'll ever return to spending money on creams and serums.  Retin-A, sunscreen, and a little Botox twice a year...  I'm good.  Even if I don't do Botox - the Retin-A and sunscreen are better than anything I've done prior.  [Mother gets me Retin-A in Mexico.  Shhh.]

2.  I like More magazine.  I don't have a subscription, but I pick up an issue occasionally.

3.  Mother was right.  She usually is.  Except for the part where she prematurely aged my skin.

4.  I haven't had Botox in over six months and it REALLY does leave the body in 3-4 months.  I didn't believe people who said that, until I'd done it myself and felt sad when it's effects were gone.  I don't know when I'll do it again, but I will, and it won't be very much, but I'll feel happy, even if no one else notices.

5.  I had Filler in my nasal labial folds - the parenthesis on each side of the mouth.  FYI, Botox does not hurt.  Filler hurts.

Moral of the Story
Whether you're choosing to age naturally or... not... Use hair color, hair remover, moisturizers, sunscreen, make-up or... not... Let's try not to judge one another.  I don't get professional manicures...  you don't bleach your mustache.  We can still be friends.

When I was 15, I was deep.

Deb at San Diego Momma's has a PROMPTuesday exercise today that interests me.  Because... it's easy.  She requests we describe in detail, a memory from our 15th year.  I began journaling when I was 11, so I pulled two journals spanning 1981 and 1982 [when I was 15] to aid in this assignment.

Connie at The Young and The Relentless has periodically posted excerpts from her teen diaries titled "The Connie Diaries".  It's both fun and uncomfortable reading her words.  We've all been there.

Instead of describing one memory, I'm borrowing from Connie's idea.  I'd like to share pieces of my world when I was 15...

 

I had a special English teacher my freshman and sophomore years in high school.  He encouraged us to journal in ways I'd never thought of prior.  The journals [above left] were like an accessory.  The exterior appearance was important. 

The first page in each journal [above right] had my favorite quotes at the time.  If you're interested, click on the photograph - you should be able to read them.  Simple quotes, but to me they were deep and profound.  I didn't even smoke weed.

I wrote in my journals creatively, but more often than not, they simply served as a diary.  I sketched, and taped pictures and articles that I thought were deep onto the pages.  I REALLY wanted to be deep.

  

I don't know if Erma Bombeck was deep, but I was already thinking about how to be a good parent.  My parents were good and loved me very much, but like many kids, I never felt understood and I developed empathy early.  An empathy I projected onto my future children.

I was a runner then.  Still am - well, a trotter anyway.  It was a way for me to connect with Dad, also a runner at the time, and I really enjoyed the endorphins.  Runner's high?  It's real.

 

I even tried to make running deep. [See photo above left.]

Like the "Connie Diaries", I thought I would share something I wrote when I was 15.  I found a few decent poems and short stories, some funny, well-documented antics with friends, and plenty of teen angst [seems to be the theme these days with that vampire stuff].  But I'd like to share what I wrote on January 5, 1981... so technically, I was only 14 1/2-years old. 

The words aren't exceptional, but I want to contribute to the "Teachers Are Important And Make A Difference" campaign bucket.  This is what I had to say about the memorable English teacher my freshman year.

January 5, 1981

... Mr. H. is such a neat teacher.  Of all the teachers I've ever had, he makes the greatest impression on me.  He influences me so easily.  I look up to him and hope to be as sweet and gentle a person as he is. I can't picture him being unkind towards anyone, or giving them an unfair chance.  He told us when he meets someone he always gives them the benefit of the doubt.  He automatically likes them, or he assumes they are a good person, then he leaves it up to the person if they want to prove him wrong.  He's a neat guy.  You won't come across too many people like him.  I'm glad I've had a chance to be taught by him.

Then, because I wanted to be deep, I included two quotes..

"Do not seek yourself outside yourself."  Ralph Waldo Emerson

"To be great is to be misunderstood."  Ralph Waldo Emerson

Followed by my OWN deep thought.

¹I wonder what it would be like to be a nun?  

THE END.

¹ I'm not sure what THAT was about.  I'm not even Catholic.