It has been nearly a year since my wonderful makeover. My face is still relatively clear. My breasts have not grown back! I have decided to continue blogging. I will be still be commenting on the physical aspects of my beauty makeover; I have continued seeing the wonderful Chapin Associates - but on my dime. I will also discuss my attempts at emotional, intellectual and techno self-improvement. Really, I wake up every day with a grand plan. And realize every night as I lay my head on my pillow, that my life is a sitcom.
My new blog can be found at:http://blahgeramy.blogspot.com
Follow me and enjoy my humiliating, I mean, humorous, journey.
REVEAL!
The night of the big reveal arrives. The party starts at 6:30 p.m. I have to arrive around 3 to get my hair and makeup done. There is great excitement at Chapin Aesthetics. Everyone is buzzing around. Not only do the constant winners have to look great but the employees need to get al gussied up. It is a party after all!
The 20-something winner has emailed that she has the flu and will not be attending. I feel sad for her. I remember being in my 20's. It was unnerving - the entire decade. I made poor decisions without even knowing it. Now in my 40s, I know that I would have dragged myself to the reveal and left immediately afterward. After all, Chapin invested money and effort into this. It is an unwritten contract, no? But in my 20's, this would not have occurred to me. Lots of things are like this. Like my parents paid for my entire college tuition. All of it. I had no idea until about 7 years ago when I found the last payment stub in a garbage can at their house. I never even thought about it. I just expected it. Let's just call my 20's "My decade of clueless entitlement." And officially "Thank you Mom and Dad for the education. I wish I hadn't partied so much."
I wish I drank now. It sure would take the edge off. I am incredibly nervous. The other contestants and I are squirreled away upstairs so no one sees us. I really enjoy the company of Beth, the 30-something winner, and Debbie, the 60-something winner. We practice our runway walk. I almost wet my pants as we cling to each other laughing hysterically. We are bonded together by this experience. Debbie works in a knitting store in Yardley, PA. I find myself pledging to visit her and in my head I see my entire family clad in hand-knit sweaters. I have turned into La La Michelle. Talk about a make-over.
Finally it is time. We all sneak downstairs and look out the door. There is a huge tent set up in the parking lot. It's a beautiful night - not too hot, not too cold. There are a lot of people here. Maybe the 20-something chick had the right idea.
Dr. Chapin has selected me to be the first contestant to be revealed. I am a little disappointed but when I think about it, it makes sense. My transformation is less, well, noticeable? My haircut is great, my skin and makeup are wonderful, but let's face it, the real meat of the reveal is my boobs. I think it would be really tasteless to walk out on stage in a bra. And really, I am 46, short and a bit chubby. Nobody needs (or wants) to see that!
Dr. Chapin is talking about the contest and the procedures. Then I hear something. I look at Debbie and I say "That's my voice!" We made a video a few weeks ago and talked about the experience. I hated this as much as the photo shoot. I always thought I would be really funny and witty on camera. Remember the Brady Bunch episode when Jan froze in front of the camera. Totally me. It's so hard. I want to be respectful of Chapin Aesthetics. They may use this in a commercial someday. My irreverent sense of humor may damage the respectability of the salon. My mind just keeps whirring and whirling about how I might say something that I think is so funny but might make other people may look aghast. This happens to me practically everyday so I am not being paranoid. Frankly, if La La Michelle wasn't around to explain my FBI humor, someone would probably take away my kids. I haven't seen the end result of the video shoot but it is probably me saying "Uh, thanks for the makeover. I like it lots. Me pretty now."
Anyway, suddenly, Kim says "Go!" and I am pushed out on stage. I walk down the runway and there is everyone. My husband and kids, the stylists and some strangers. Then I realize that half the people in the tent are standing. About 30 of my friends have shown up and are giving me a standing ovation. How great are they? I have really great friends. People should be (and are) very jealous of our circle. I am overwhelmed. I had a speech written. This is what I planned to say:
Do you like my body? Okay, so I am no Anna Nicole Smith but hey, pretty close! I've been told I have to be quick of the music will begin to play. It's like the Oscars. Thank you to everybody at Chapin Aesthetics. You really broke the bank when you chose me as a winner. But I think I was worth it, don't you? I loved coming here every day. Every single person has been so kind and so fun. I was never nervous - until now. I knew that the staff was talking to each other and I was in great hands. Thank you to my family for allowing me to ignore you for the last six weeks. Thank you to my friends who supported and encouraged me even though they were secretly very jealous.
Dr Chapin and company, you made a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Thanks. And as the Governor of California says "I'll be back!"
The 20-something winner has emailed that she has the flu and will not be attending. I feel sad for her. I remember being in my 20's. It was unnerving - the entire decade. I made poor decisions without even knowing it. Now in my 40s, I know that I would have dragged myself to the reveal and left immediately afterward. After all, Chapin invested money and effort into this. It is an unwritten contract, no? But in my 20's, this would not have occurred to me. Lots of things are like this. Like my parents paid for my entire college tuition. All of it. I had no idea until about 7 years ago when I found the last payment stub in a garbage can at their house. I never even thought about it. I just expected it. Let's just call my 20's "My decade of clueless entitlement." And officially "Thank you Mom and Dad for the education. I wish I hadn't partied so much."
I wish I drank now. It sure would take the edge off. I am incredibly nervous. The other contestants and I are squirreled away upstairs so no one sees us. I really enjoy the company of Beth, the 30-something winner, and Debbie, the 60-something winner. We practice our runway walk. I almost wet my pants as we cling to each other laughing hysterically. We are bonded together by this experience. Debbie works in a knitting store in Yardley, PA. I find myself pledging to visit her and in my head I see my entire family clad in hand-knit sweaters. I have turned into La La Michelle. Talk about a make-over.
Finally it is time. We all sneak downstairs and look out the door. There is a huge tent set up in the parking lot. It's a beautiful night - not too hot, not too cold. There are a lot of people here. Maybe the 20-something chick had the right idea.
Dr. Chapin has selected me to be the first contestant to be revealed. I am a little disappointed but when I think about it, it makes sense. My transformation is less, well, noticeable? My haircut is great, my skin and makeup are wonderful, but let's face it, the real meat of the reveal is my boobs. I think it would be really tasteless to walk out on stage in a bra. And really, I am 46, short and a bit chubby. Nobody needs (or wants) to see that!
Dr. Chapin is talking about the contest and the procedures. Then I hear something. I look at Debbie and I say "That's my voice!" We made a video a few weeks ago and talked about the experience. I hated this as much as the photo shoot. I always thought I would be really funny and witty on camera. Remember the Brady Bunch episode when Jan froze in front of the camera. Totally me. It's so hard. I want to be respectful of Chapin Aesthetics. They may use this in a commercial someday. My irreverent sense of humor may damage the respectability of the salon. My mind just keeps whirring and whirling about how I might say something that I think is so funny but might make other people may look aghast. This happens to me practically everyday so I am not being paranoid. Frankly, if La La Michelle wasn't around to explain my FBI humor, someone would probably take away my kids. I haven't seen the end result of the video shoot but it is probably me saying "Uh, thanks for the makeover. I like it lots. Me pretty now."
Anyway, suddenly, Kim says "Go!" and I am pushed out on stage. I walk down the runway and there is everyone. My husband and kids, the stylists and some strangers. Then I realize that half the people in the tent are standing. About 30 of my friends have shown up and are giving me a standing ovation. How great are they? I have really great friends. People should be (and are) very jealous of our circle. I am overwhelmed. I had a speech written. This is what I planned to say:
Do you like my body? Okay, so I am no Anna Nicole Smith but hey, pretty close! I've been told I have to be quick of the music will begin to play. It's like the Oscars. Thank you to everybody at Chapin Aesthetics. You really broke the bank when you chose me as a winner. But I think I was worth it, don't you? I loved coming here every day. Every single person has been so kind and so fun. I was never nervous - until now. I knew that the staff was talking to each other and I was in great hands. Thank you to my family for allowing me to ignore you for the last six weeks. Thank you to my friends who supported and encouraged me even though they were secretly very jealous.
Dr Chapin and company, you made a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Thanks. And as the Governor of California says "I'll be back!"
Taking the bull by the horns
I toss and turn all night. I do not want to wear the black, embroidered coat to the reveal. I feel no joy now when I think about the reveal. I think of asking my friends not to come to the party. I know they will never do that. I don't know what to do.
Honesty is the best policy. I write Kim a note. "Do I have to wear the coat to the reveal? I think it swallows me up. Plus nobody will be able to see my perky, new breasts! Can I wear the blue shirt and black sweater we originally selected?"
Kim immediately answers back. "You can wear whatever you want. This is YOUR night. We want you to be happy. The coat is great but it does overwhelm you."
Ask and ye shall receive. Just ask nicely. It's a good rule for life, don't you think?
Happy again. Happy, happy, happy. La la la....
Honesty is the best policy. I write Kim a note. "Do I have to wear the coat to the reveal? I think it swallows me up. Plus nobody will be able to see my perky, new breasts! Can I wear the blue shirt and black sweater we originally selected?"
Kim immediately answers back. "You can wear whatever you want. This is YOUR night. We want you to be happy. The coat is great but it does overwhelm you."
Ask and ye shall receive. Just ask nicely. It's a good rule for life, don't you think?
Happy again. Happy, happy, happy. La la la....
Tyra Banks Called...
To tell me that I will NOT be a contestant on America's Next Top Model! The photo shoot for the reveal photos was HARD! Now, I know everybody thinks models are just dumb and beautiful but I could not do it. Is it because I am smart and not beautiful? No, I don't think so. I think it takes a certain "je ne sais quois". Here is how it went:
First, Delia does my makeup, but because it is a photo shoot she decides to air brush on the make up. Apparently, air brushing presents a more uniform, matte look. It involves having your make up base BLOWN on to your face. I have to tell you that I did not enjoy this feeling - during or especially, after. I don't know how models and actors abide this. How does their skin not break out?
After my face is made up, I proceed to change into my clothes that I will wear for the reveal. Remember, it was a nightmare finding clothes for me. Well, Jodi, the stylist, found a black embroidered denim coat for me at another location of Head Over Heels. It is a stunning coat - just not for me. I am a tiny bit too short. The coat envelopes me and suddenly I turn into Sharon Stone in that bad western she made in the 90's. Actually, that is a very flattering description. I really look like the mayor of Munchkinland. Jodi and I have similar body types but she is a few inches taller. Inches that matter. I am so uncomfortable. But what am I to do? I am not a fashion expert. Really. I came into the salon today in sweats.
I put on a brave face and step out onto the white paper the photographer has laid out. The lights are bright, really, really bright. Everybody is looking at me. "Oh! The jacket is amazing! Isn't it great?" "So great!" Well, I hate to be selfish but this is about ME, right? The coat is getting heavier and heavier - not literally, figuratively. I am holding back the tears. But I can't cry. That would be so ungrateful. These people have worked so hard to make me happy. They genuinely want me to be excited, elated. Plus, If I cry, it will leave deep rivulets in the foundation on my face.
Everyone is staring at me. Take the stupid picture, please. The photographer is fumbling with his equipment. Oh my God! Take the picture! I can't even goof my way out of this situation. "Stand this way. Arm on your hip. No, other hip. Chin up. Chin down." No wonder a lot of fashion models to drugs. I hate this. It doesn't feel natural.
Finally, the shoot is done and I make my way home. The kids greet me at the door. "You look pretty, Mommy." Rick knows immediately that I did not enjoy myself, that something is very wrong. It's nice having somebody who can read your body language like that. He also prefers me sans makeup - you can't beat that. I let the kids take a few pictures to send to my family.
Taking the makeup off takes 45 minutes. I scrub and scrub. The foundation actually crumbles off my face. It feels so gross and suffocating. Good thing I am not statuesque and beautiful and I can't sing or act. I would prefer to never experience another photo shoot. Really, I have a new respect for models. Not a profound empathy, but I have a more realistic view of the job.
How does the final picture come out? I look like I am embarrassed and there is a really bad smell in the room. Basically, I look like I accidentally passed gas, every one heard it and it was captured on film.
Gotta love it.
First, Delia does my makeup, but because it is a photo shoot she decides to air brush on the make up. Apparently, air brushing presents a more uniform, matte look. It involves having your make up base BLOWN on to your face. I have to tell you that I did not enjoy this feeling - during or especially, after. I don't know how models and actors abide this. How does their skin not break out?
After my face is made up, I proceed to change into my clothes that I will wear for the reveal. Remember, it was a nightmare finding clothes for me. Well, Jodi, the stylist, found a black embroidered denim coat for me at another location of Head Over Heels. It is a stunning coat - just not for me. I am a tiny bit too short. The coat envelopes me and suddenly I turn into Sharon Stone in that bad western she made in the 90's. Actually, that is a very flattering description. I really look like the mayor of Munchkinland. Jodi and I have similar body types but she is a few inches taller. Inches that matter. I am so uncomfortable. But what am I to do? I am not a fashion expert. Really. I came into the salon today in sweats.
I put on a brave face and step out onto the white paper the photographer has laid out. The lights are bright, really, really bright. Everybody is looking at me. "Oh! The jacket is amazing! Isn't it great?" "So great!" Well, I hate to be selfish but this is about ME, right? The coat is getting heavier and heavier - not literally, figuratively. I am holding back the tears. But I can't cry. That would be so ungrateful. These people have worked so hard to make me happy. They genuinely want me to be excited, elated. Plus, If I cry, it will leave deep rivulets in the foundation on my face.
Everyone is staring at me. Take the stupid picture, please. The photographer is fumbling with his equipment. Oh my God! Take the picture! I can't even goof my way out of this situation. "Stand this way. Arm on your hip. No, other hip. Chin up. Chin down." No wonder a lot of fashion models to drugs. I hate this. It doesn't feel natural.
Finally, the shoot is done and I make my way home. The kids greet me at the door. "You look pretty, Mommy." Rick knows immediately that I did not enjoy myself, that something is very wrong. It's nice having somebody who can read your body language like that. He also prefers me sans makeup - you can't beat that. I let the kids take a few pictures to send to my family.
Taking the makeup off takes 45 minutes. I scrub and scrub. The foundation actually crumbles off my face. It feels so gross and suffocating. Good thing I am not statuesque and beautiful and I can't sing or act. I would prefer to never experience another photo shoot. Really, I have a new respect for models. Not a profound empathy, but I have a more realistic view of the job.
How does the final picture come out? I look like I am embarrassed and there is a really bad smell in the room. Basically, I look like I accidentally passed gas, every one heard it and it was captured on film.
Gotta love it.
More about Shop 65
OMG! I have not met one person that has had a good experience at Shop 65. Seriously, how is this store still in business? Other shop owners in Doylestown have told me horror stories about the owner. So it wasn't just the snotty blond clerk having a bad day. Apparently, reneging on commitments is a regular practice of Linda, the shop owner.
I went back to the store twice to discuss the "incident" with the owner. I was going to calmly explain the "misunderstanding". She wouldn't speak with me. I am so confused. Who acts this way? Maybe the store is built on an ancient burial ground and the owner and sales people are possessed by evil spirits. It is really the only plausible explanation.
I find out more about the day I was there. Apparently, the staff was going on and on about not holding the outfit. I explained that in the previous post. But they did rudely say "Don't worry. The jeans will not sell. We never have customers who need sizes THIS large." May I just point out that the sales girls were not size two's or even close. I wonder where they go to buy their clothes?
Oh and here is a tip I recently learned. Sbop 65 carries all the same brands as Bloomingdales. But they mark them up. So, if you just have to have the clothes that Shop 65 sells, do yourself a favor. Go to Bloomingdales. If you have a Bloomie's charge card, they even send you coupons occasionally. You can get the clothes AND have a pleasant sales staff. You deserve courteous treatment. We all do.
I went back to the store twice to discuss the "incident" with the owner. I was going to calmly explain the "misunderstanding". She wouldn't speak with me. I am so confused. Who acts this way? Maybe the store is built on an ancient burial ground and the owner and sales people are possessed by evil spirits. It is really the only plausible explanation.
I find out more about the day I was there. Apparently, the staff was going on and on about not holding the outfit. I explained that in the previous post. But they did rudely say "Don't worry. The jeans will not sell. We never have customers who need sizes THIS large." May I just point out that the sales girls were not size two's or even close. I wonder where they go to buy their clothes?
Oh and here is a tip I recently learned. Sbop 65 carries all the same brands as Bloomingdales. But they mark them up. So, if you just have to have the clothes that Shop 65 sells, do yourself a favor. Go to Bloomingdales. If you have a Bloomie's charge card, they even send you coupons occasionally. You can get the clothes AND have a pleasant sales staff. You deserve courteous treatment. We all do.
Update on shaving
I've been meaning to post this since I terrorized my readers about women needing to shave their facial hair.
No need to lather up next to your husband every morning. No need to purchase your own stash of Old Spice. I followed up with Nicole at Chapin. It is as simple as this. Just gently drag a dry razor across the offending area. But be gentle! Speaking from experience, I got a little too exuberant and had razor burn on my upper lip. A little spritz of water helps. But now I don't even need to worry about my upper lip. The laser hair removal worked. I am thinking of going back for more on my own dime. You can do your under arms, bikini area, etc. They should offer gift certificates for husband's with back hair.
No need to lather up next to your husband every morning. No need to purchase your own stash of Old Spice. I followed up with Nicole at Chapin. It is as simple as this. Just gently drag a dry razor across the offending area. But be gentle! Speaking from experience, I got a little too exuberant and had razor burn on my upper lip. A little spritz of water helps. But now I don't even need to worry about my upper lip. The laser hair removal worked. I am thinking of going back for more on my own dime. You can do your under arms, bikini area, etc. They should offer gift certificates for husband's with back hair.
I'm back!
Okay - I needed some time off to get my life back in order. I had to catch up on work, laundry, parenting.
Somehow everything managed to fall apart in the six weeks I was being made over. It's such a busy time of the year - Halloween, The World Series. You know, the women on the Real Housewives of Orange County, New Jersey and New York don't have issues keeping up with laundry. I wish Bravo would do a series called The Real Housewives of Bucks County. It wouldn't be as glamourous or as dramatic as the other series, but it would be more real!
I have a lot to more to blog about The Make Over Expedition. Stay tuned....
Somehow everything managed to fall apart in the six weeks I was being made over. It's such a busy time of the year - Halloween, The World Series. You know, the women on the Real Housewives of Orange County, New Jersey and New York don't have issues keeping up with laundry. I wish Bravo would do a series called The Real Housewives of Bucks County. It wouldn't be as glamourous or as dramatic as the other series, but it would be more real!
I have a lot to more to blog about The Make Over Expedition. Stay tuned....
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