How Do I Look?

Below is a lesson for all of you out there with straight hair who attempt to brush the head of someone with curly hair. As you can see from the photo, what you will get is an aftermath of frizz.

Why am I and my fuzzed out hair-do draped in a brick-colored Pashmina, you ask? I am profiling image consultants who work with teen clients and although I am clearly not a teen, Jane Pennewell, a lovely consultant in Falls Church, VA, took pity upon my unadorned face and undirected hair. I was invited over to her house to be a fly-on-the-wall as she helped Hannah, a sweet 16-year-old put on her best face. After deciding Hannah was "intense," (like Elizabeth Taylor and Billy Dee Williams!) Jane brought out Hannah's huge green eyes and porcelain skin using products from her very own makeup line. Hannah had never used pressed powder before and was preciously flummoxed when presented with an eyelash curler (which should be the appropriate reaction for a 16-year-old, I think, despite Hannah's coming of age in an era of Gossip Girl).

After turning Hannah into an older version of herself ("You look 18!" gasped her mother when she returned to pick her up), Jane worked her magic on me (I fall on the "subtle" quad of Jane's color chart). And I have to say, despite taking a brush to my hair (see lesson above), I think a dose of color - the sunny bronze lip and gray lid - looks pretty nice. Jane sent me home with a care package of goodies and when I put on my face last night (wiht a slightly lighter hand), I felt pretty cute.

Which means my mother was right all along. I do look better with a bit of blush.

No Close-Ups, Please

I am the subject of a photo shoot tomorrow. A subject who must wear a string bikini. A subject who has done zero exercise for 100000 years (unless lifting a remote and running across the street to avoid traffic counts). Luckily, (if you want to consider any of this lucky) this photo shoot - with shoot being the operative word - will constitute my "before" photo.

It's all my own doing, of course. I decided to see how much I could change my un-athletic, un-exercised, un-bodied body in a short period of time. I met a trainer who either took pity on me or saw the business potential of turning Mush to Madonna (with the photos to prove it!) She thinks she can turn me into Ms. Olympia in four months.

Tomorrow marks day one. I begin the day with a 10 AM workout at the gym and end it in a barely-there 2 piece (purchased at American Apparel, the mecca of 17-year-olds with zero body fat.) (Because, if I'm going to torture myself, I might as well start in the bright lights of a dressing room under the care of a rocker sales guy in tight pants and a raised eye brow.)

I can only hope that in four months, I'll return to the store wearing nothing but that bikini and arm wrestle that same guy into a humilation as deeply felt.

For now, I can only stock up on Tiger Balm and start lifing.

Here's to the first rep!