It’s already August and as we all know, Fall is right around the corner. Already, aside from planning my annual celebration of Michael Jackson’s birthday at the end of the month, I have begun trying to plan my look for the fall and winter months.
I do realize that the only time I go out is to go to dialysis, the grocery store or to the hospital, but I do always try to look my best, even if I’m dog sick.
I am trying desperately to rebuild the life I’ve lost due to my illness. Before I was stuck at home, babysitting my ailing father and writing stories to kill time, I did have a life.
I used to go out and have a group of friends and be happy.
Now, I’m never happy and have only one friend left in town as the others have moved away and started lives of their own.
And before I lose the last one as she’s in the process of establishing her career and life, I want to try to make something of myself. Get something for myself.
With dialysis as an overbearing monkey on my back, a lot of things have been eliminated. I can’t go to school or work a steady job because there’s no telling how I’ll feel once dialysis is over. I so rarely see other people. Unless they’re hooked up to a machine or hacking their lungs up in an emergency room.
But I plan to change that. I do know how important appearances are and how looks are everything. I figure I have a decent face, even if the body attached to it is in shambles. And if I could use my face to my advantage, perhaps I could meet a nice boyfriend. I know that if I have a boyfriend, he’ll have friends, and I can be friends with his friends, and get back into the social scene. Going places. Doing things. Having a good time again. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had a good time. Laughed and meant it. Smiled and meant it.
I want to be joyous and actually feel it. I feel nothing now but an ever-present, resentful dread at dialysis. Hating myself every second of every day for ever saying Yes to it.
The worst decision of my natural life. If you ever have the decision to have to take dialysis, make sure you have something to live for--boyfriend, husband, kids, job--before you say Yes. I didn’t and signed what semblance of life I had away. It’d be simpler and far less traumatic to die. Believe me.
Cheaper too.
So back to my fall look. I know people say to dress for the kind of job you want. I’m going to dress for the kind of man I want. I wouldn’t’ put any thought into myself if it weren’t for the idea that Mr. Right could be right around the corner and I don’t want to scare him off.
Sure I could sleep later in the mornings and forgo the make up and hair and clothing. Then I’d wind up with Mr. Wrong.
Ideally, I’d like a man who looks like Michael Jackson and while I wait for Hell to freeze over in the meantime, I want someone respectable.
Nice, working, God-fearing. Someone I would be proud to be on the arm of. And I can’t just look like anything and expect to attract him.
So my look for fall is more on the dressy casual edge. Maybe even slightly businesslike. Slacks, skirts, slim fitting sweaters and blazers are what I want to wear. I don’t even really want to put on jeans, unless they’re patterned or something.
I want to stand out from the pack. Look pretty to someone special. Brighter colors, but nothing clown-like of course. I’m going to make sure everything I slip onto my body does my figure favors and compliment my skin tone.
And for make up, I’ve noticed lately, I’ve been heavy-handed with my eyeshadow. So I’m going to lighten up. Still using eye-catching colors, but not so much. I don’t believe in a “natural” look, but I will do something to enhance my features.
Everything I’m going to do is to enhance Tiffeny and make her look as good as possible.
Whether you want to believe it or not, I don’t directly see myself as pretty or attractive. All I see when I look at myself is all my dialysis scars because they leap out at me as little silent, ugly reminders.
I use the cues I get from other people. If someone compliments me, I figure I’ve done something right. If I hear nothing, I regroup and try to make a better effort the next time out.
And really, I have all the time in the world to commit to it. Dialysis gets me for 9 hours out the week and the rest I have to baby-sit my dad. (Really I do!)
When I’m not writing my stories for the MJ club--my erotica thread has about twenty alone--,I’m up to my ears in fashion magazines, blogs and websites.
Hell, I even get emails straight from Rachel Zoe on trends!
I’m doing the best I can to try to be pleasant. And I will do everything I can.
Except wear orange lipstick. The fool that said that was a hot look needs to be carried in a rural field and shot a few times. I don’t want to look live I’ve Frenched a hunk of citrus.
Well, wish me luck, because how some general plot for war, I’m waging a bigger battle--trying to find love in a loveless world.
Till next blog!
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