In the interest of truth in journalism, I offer
Exhibit A. This is what I look like in Real Life, when I'm babysitting
my little granddaughter, running errands, creating art or helping my
elderly dad. Sorta frumpy.
In fact, this photo was taken on a good day.
The leopard motif is my half-hearted attempt at noncommittal glamour, and the red hair color was a little birthday "embellishment," inspired by a half-price sale. The color was called "raspberry," but I think they got their fruits mixed up because it turned out more like pumpkin. But at least the grey was covered.
Almost daily I wear crinkle cotton, because it's so forgiving -- no one can tell whether those clothes had actually been hung up, or if I'd excavated them from a heap on the floor. I decided long ago that life was too short to bother to match socks, and I usually don't have time for makeup. If I even had a moment to think about it in the whirlwind that is my life, I guess I'd say that I usually feel pretty glamourless.
And then there are those pesky extra pounds.
Much of my life has revolved around caring for others, including three husbands (I divorced two, buried one), and a daughter and seven stepkids, amidst teaching in my own art school, running a few businesses, writing a few books. Volunteering. Counseling. Coaching. Busy, busy, busy, and it seemed like never enough time for "extras" for myself.
But I've had role models to inspire me. There have been lots of glamorous women in my life, most notably my great-aunt Dixie, the Broadway star, and there have been others. "Lookers," they were called back then, at least that's what Walter Winchell called Dixie. My mom was glamorous before she became a mother, but I didn't realize that 'til I looked through the old photos after she died.
Mom (L), with a glamour not unlike Monroe's (inset), & 5 years later (R)
(Image by Collage by Meryl Ann Butler) Details DMCA
And I'd also been inspired by the fun that my step-daughter had with her daughter in their glamour photo session. In fact, I'd even done a similar session with my daughter about 15 years ago. But I'd never allowed myself the luxury of doing it just for me.
So an opportunity to create my own reality of a glamorous gramma, even if only for an instant, seemed like a defining moment. A chance to stop time in its tracks, an oasis in which to feel special, pampered, and relaxed.
So I signed myself up.
Unlike a couple of the other gals who were having photos shoots at the same time, I was not getting photos to entice a lover, nor to send to an overseas hubby. After three strikes I had decided long ago that I was out of that game.
Nope, this was just for me. For fun. For honoring, I suppose, the glamour of my inner being.
Glamour isn't really about how you look, although outer looks can be a reflection of inner glamour. It's something more, like the excitement of the soul and the charm of the spirit. I think all women have it, it just gets buried under years of washing dishes, wiping snotty noses and cleaning up poop.
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