Several years ago, I won an award for an essay.  It’s lovely to win an award, even if you just get a plaque or certificate, which you immediately lose, and which surfaces years later in a filing cabinet.

Later, I won an award I’d never heard of. Of course it was an honor, as all these thing are, but it seemed to be an award for winning OTHER awards. And I  may have been called a Person to Watch.  Now that made me nervous.  If I were a Person to Watch, I needed good hair.

I ran to the mirror.  All I can say is, the hair was very short. I considered it wash-and-wear.  That was the only description for it.

I tried combing my hair, tried brushing it, stuck a barrette in it, and that was as good as it got.

I’ve got to do better than this, I thought. So I got on the phone to Mom. “There’s this award. And I have to get my photo taken.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to get a photo!  You’ll be the most adorable one there.”

Of course I wasn’t adorable, but she gushed about us kids all the time, and naturally she was pleased with the award that  seemed to me a disaster.  The hair issue didn’t register with her.

Then I consulted my loveliest friend.  She thought I should forget the hair and concentrate on a makeover.  A makeover?  On TV the before is always better than the after!

I confided that I was allergic to makeup.  Years ago after studying Clinique ads in a women’s magazines, I purchased Clinique makeup and applied it thoroughly. Unfortunately, I developed a horrible rash. The dermatologist gave me an ointment, told me I was allergic to Clinique, and advised me not to wear makeup again.

 My friend pooh-poohed that – “What do dermatologists know?” -and before I knew it I was sitting on a stool at the makeup counter, and a clerk was applying various magic powders, cremes, and mascara, then brushed my hair up high on my head.

My friend and the makeup artist looked uneasy.  I had known it would go wrong!  Actually, I didn’t recognize myself:  I looked like a low-end hooker at the Holiday Inn, with high teased hair and too much eye makeup.

My friend said not a word about the makeup, but we went upstairs to scrub it off.

But one good thing came out of it: Mom loved the photo.