Beauty At My Door

Last week would have been my Godmother's 66th birthday.  In honor of her birth and love for all things 'product' whether they be for one's hair, face or body, my Birch Box "membership" arrived via email.


BirchBox is this company I had heard about on a few blogs.  You sign up and each month a box of beauty products shows up at your door.  From what I understand they are generous sample sizes and presented in a lovely, gift type box.  There is a limited number of spots and so there was a waiting list when I went to sign up.  It's a nice marketing gimmick, as the excitement built over the weeks while I waited to hear back from them.

My first box will arrive in May.  I'm excited to see what is in it.  (Spoiler:  If you are directly related to me...don't run out and sign up...they have gift options, that's all I'm saying.)

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I have this vivid memory of standing in the hallway bathroom at my parent's home surrounded by my mom's friends.  I must have been trying on some eye makeup or lotion and pulled the skin around my eyes in the process.  I remember one of the women stopping me and teaching me to be more gentle with the skin in that area.  Something in her voice stuck with me.  Not the actual lesson, I still pull at my eye as I put on liner, but the reason behind her instruction.  She would have been around my current age...nearing 40.  

Throughout the day, when I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I am startled to see that face staring back at me.  I know it is me, but she looks nothing like what I thought I did.  Something is off, some wrinkles, less lashes.  My eyes are off and I can never quite put my finger on just what the problem is.  I imagine my aunt-like friend was just beginning to wonder who was staring back at her, and saw an opportunity to help me preserve my own youthful skin.

Many people scoff and write off the joy of a new sample sized beauty product.  I understand.  I know nothing will stop the march of my human condition.  I know my outward appearance isn't the most defining or important part of who I am.  But I still love a good 'gift with purchase,' a stroll through Ulta or Sephora is much too fun for me.  I'm not opening a miracle product or a way to make men notice me, I'm opening memories.  Despite my nostalgia for my eye lashes of last decade, I'm not looking to increase my self esteem.  I'm remembering conversations that took place in bathrooms and locker-rooms.  Scents take me back to nights when my mom and dad went out to dinner or as adults got ready for work.  I feel the arms and the sides of My Women as we huddled up around a department store counter weighing in on whether a color looked right or not.  

The most significant women in my life are all strong, funny, smart, caring people...who took me to a beauty counter and I stood watching them, as they bought lipstick.

And the older I get the more I want to remember the shades with which they colored my life.