Beauty: Part One

Anne: "You little know how utterly wretched I am."

Marilla: "I little know how you got IN to this FIX, but I demand that you tell me."

Anne: "He positively assured me it would turn my hair a beautiful raven black."

Marilla: "Who did? Who are you talking about?"

Anne [choked up]: "The peddler we met on the road today!" [boo hoo hoo!]

Marilla [trying not to laugh]: "Well. I hope this has opened your eyes...to see where your vanity has taken you...."

Do you know this hilarious scene?! (I hope you do!)

It played itself over and over in my mind as I laid in bed, ironically unable to open my eyes. I kept hearing Marilla's voice: "I hope this has opened your eyes...to see where your vanity has taken you!" And then I'd laugh. Or want to.... Not that I otherwise felt much like laughing.

And in case anyone has ever considered a heavy-duty chemical peel on your face...DON'T! Don't consider it! Consider instead the words: chemical; peel; and, face. Together. It's almost as ridiculous as the words "botulinum" and "on purpose." (But not quite.... I mean, come on. Nothing—nothing—not even a butt implant [haha!], is as ridiculous as the #1 most deadly toxin known to man being injected into your face so you can't move it. Seriously, people....) 

When I was offered a free chemical peel, I failed to consider the ridiculousness of the idea. I just heard: free. Hey, why not? It's free! Maybe it's awesome! Sure, it's intentionally burning my face with chemicals. But it's free! Free!!

Here I am at some point during a three-round extravaganza of putting chemicals on my face to BURN my skin off:

Here I am the next day, taking funny pictures to document how incredibly red my face had become:

Little did I know....

I thought it was funny that my face had gotten red [bwahahaha], but day two is when things really blew up. Literally. 

I woke up in the night and realized, oh wow, my face is kind of swelling. 

Took a bunch of ibuprofen. Went back to sleep.

Woke up in the morning...and....

I could hardly open my eyes!! I looked like a gourd! A pumpkin! Two little beady eyes being swallowed by a tight, oozing mass of tumor! 

And to prove just how humble I am, I will let you see.... Hahaha! Mostly because it's hilarious. But make no mistake: it had been much worse than this. Really! Unfortunately, I have no documentation since I couldn't be bothered with things like taking my own picture when my face was folding in on itself. But here I am at about 70% disaster:

Now, let's compare that to the most unflattering photo of normal-me possible. Here I am, normal-ol me, with bed hair, no make-up, even frowning in my sleep and probably drooling, with a cross-eyed baby in my arms. I now see this as gorgeous. ;-)

I spent an entire weekend completely incapacitated, which is just ridiculous. Incapacitated because of a vanity measure? Puh-lease. I could hardly handle the insanity of it! This is what idiots do to themselves, not grounded people like I thought I was. I must be an idiot! What next? A tanning bed? Vacation time for my facelift and lip implant? A four-hour hair treatment every month while Matt gives me my "ME time"? I'm laid up by this?! Hahahahaha! A chemical peel?! Me?!

Luckily, I didn't have church that weekend. (Can you imagine how I'd have scared the kids? Hahahaha!) Also luckily, Matt had the weekend off. Heaven knows how kids can get on for a weekend when their mother has had her face burned off. (Really, I couldn't take care of them!) I laid in bed with cold, wet towels on my face, and a fan blowing on it. Matt got me a prescription for steroids which gave me my eyes back and, eventually, some semblance of cheekbones. Matt would come check on me (or bring me Maren so I could try to blindly feed her before smothering my face in towels again), and I'd just laugh and moan and laugh, and I couldn't stop saying: "this is so dumb!! This is SO dumb, Matt!"

Do you need to see the picture again to remember just how dumb it was? Haha! Laid up in bed for two days! Couldn't open my eyes! I mean, this is how life goes when something bad happens to you, not when you VOLUNTARILY burn your face off. On purpose. Douse your face in chemicals so it burns off. Voluntarily. What is that? And why did I do it? (Oh yeah.... Because it was free. Stupid, Auburn! Stupid!) It was comedy of the absurd, if ever I've seen it.

Here. Look at the picture again! Look at it!

Hahahaha!!!

Anyway, no, it wasn't because my skin is sensitive. (It's not, particularly.) It's because it was burned. I burned it. On purpose. With TCA (whatever that is). I burned it on purpose. 

I did this because, apparently, it matters how your skin looks. (????)

And here's the point of number one of this installment: It doesn't matter.

It really, really doesn't. It just doesn't matter. Things that do matter? Oh, let's see.... A million things. (Not the least of which is being able to open your eyes! Haha!) How about being comfortable in your own skin, sans beauty treatments? How about being comfortable in your own hair? Your own curves? Your own non-curves?

How about just being clean and presentable, and trying to see yourself the way your Creator does: as infinitely valuable, with not one whit of that value coming from your appearance. Not one tiny whit. 

I hope I think of that next time I'm offered a free self-mutilating beauty procedure.

And if I don't, maybe...at the very least...I'll think of this:

Hahahaha!!! (Oh man! This picture is too hilarious, I can hardly stand it! Hahahaha!! It hardly resembles me at all. I honestly wonder if I'd know it was me if I hadn't been there myself! I only wish I'd been able to make it look even more pathetic. I took SO many pictures trying to get the saddest look possible, but this was the funniest I could get. Turns out it's hard to move your face when it's exploding.... ;-))