More Than Just a Pretty Face

In case you’ve spent sleepless nights pondering whether or not to buy my book which is featured to the right of this blog, here are a few paragraphs from the Introduction:

I sat on the bleachers at the ballpark and watched my Little Leaguer.  Another mother sat nearby and I glimpsed her golden, bronzed body.  Is that tan real? I pondered as I suspiciously eyed her appendages.

         I chided my critical attitude and tried to refocus on the game until I noticed another mom.  Her silky hair fluttered as she bounded like a gazelle to her place three rows above me.  How did she get her hair like that?  I tucked my wavy, coarse hair behind my ears.  Within moments, another woman pranced in with her usual perfect outfit, coordinated with necklace and earrings.

Before you can say, “Mirror, mirror on the wall…” my eyes darted around and analyzed every other female in the grandstands.  Tanner.  Skinnier.  Silkier.  Me?  Pale. Frizzy.  And poster child for Chocolate Overeaters Anonymous. 

I reviewed my options as this point: (A) have my son join another team;  (B) bring homemade cinnamon rolls to every game and maybe all the moms will gain twenty pounds; or  (C) wear a shirt that says, "BODY NOT AS BIG AS IT APPEARS.”

Well…you’ll have to get the book to read the rest. But I can tell you that wasn’t the last time I stressed over my appearance. Like today, when I was meeting my hairapist for coffee. Oh, you do know what a hairapist is, don’t you? It’s the person to which you trust the very hairs on your head and, when you slip into the magic chair, asks you about your life; and suddenly you open up like you were on Jerry Springer. Personally, I think there’s some magical chemical in that spray bottle. Seriously, why else do they spray your hair when you first sit in the chair? Maybe it’s called “Reveal All” or something like that.

By the way, maybe you’re asking how I got a personal coffee session with my hairapist. You probably can get a session with your hairapist too - if you pick up the tab. And well, it helps if you played softball with her when you were ten and went to Junior High School together.

But, before I saw her today, I made sure my hair was as good as it could get. Which isn’t easy for me. (You can read about that on page 139 of my book.) I just didn’t want her to look at me and think, “After all my hard work on that head of hair, and she shows up looking like this? This is not good advertising.”

So whether it’s disobedient hair, my passion to weigh what my driver’s license says, or the quest for the perfect cellulite reducing lotion, thoughts on outward appearances scream for my attention. I’m not sure when the female species become obsessed over their looks. Sometimes I think it would be nice to go back in time and only have to worry about Sesame Street, naptime, and getting a birthday cupcake.

But what makes me happier than a good hair day is knowing that I can be beautiful to God no matter my dress size or how many wrinkles I have.

 And if you want to know how I believe we can be that beautiful woman - 

buy the book! (Yes, this is a shameless advertisement!)

Disclaimer: photos of beautiful models in this blog not included in the book.