Not quite Dorian Gray

My DMV photo was taken 15 years ago. I dressed up that day, since it was a workday. I put on lipstick and eyeliner and my favorite scarf and I didn't look half bad. By some miracle the DMV was unable to screw up the photo and the result is an ID I don't mind showing to people. In fact I wish I could use it instead of my awful, Russian gulag-looking passport photo. Truth be told, my goal has been to maintain a good enough driving record that the DMV will simply keep renewing my license with that photo, so I can pretend I still look like that - well into my 50's.

The only problem is getting the rest of the world to go along with my scheme.

Last night I was at the airport, awaiting a plane that was late. Juju and I were starving, so we went to the Firewood Cafe near our gate (we were there to pick up my eldest) and ordered a pizza. My credit card, instead of a signature says "See ID" which is my way of hoping to reduce identity theft. The girl behind the counter, and yes she was a girl behind the counter, or maybe a young woman, but hardly older than the unaccompanied minor I was there to pick up, looked at my driver's license picture and said "Huh. In your driver's licence you look just like my friend Katie, but in person, not so much."

Um. Thanks?

A quick inventory reminded me of what the pizza girl was looking at: too-big yoga pants, old fleece top, rain jacket, messed up, graying, unstyled hair, a lovely hacking asthma cough and no makeup. You are right, girlie. That woman you're looking at in the picture is not me. 

The woman in the picture wears matching clothes that are always clean. She wears cute skirts and white pressed shirts and has a hundred pairs of gorgeous shoes - always black, often with high heels. That woman wears lipstick and doesn't need foundation. Even though she has a job and family to juggle, she somehow manages to pull it all together. I don't know how she does it.

This woman, the one ordering the pizza? This is your mom. The one you won't let kiss you when you leap out of the moving car at school. The one who sometimes doesn't shower until 11am. The one who may or may not change out of slippers and into real shoes during a typical day.

The only thing that keeps this woman from going out with curlers in her hair is that her hair is too short to wear curlers. Before you know it she will be tying a headscarf around her hair and showering once a week.

Looking at the woman in the DMV photo, I am a little jealous. How'd she do it? How did she manage to look so good when I know for a fact she wasn't sleeping, was stressed out all the time and was one fingernail away from a nervous breakdown? And why is it that now, when I am doing more or less what I want to do, when I am not lorded over by some micromanaging egomaniacal boss, can I barely find decent clothes to wear?

I tell you, on this trajectory I am less than two years away from not changing out of my pajamas at all.

And yet, the only thing I miss about that other woman is her Elasta-Girl skin and her healthy bronchia. Especially this week when my doctor has said "if this treatment doesn't work we're going to have to put you on prednisone." Over my dead body.

I miss her lungs but I don't miss her life. That well-assembled pixel chick never saw her kids and rarely cracked a smile. She was constantly fighting executive-level politics and pulling daggers out of her back. She bickered with her husband and ate lunch at her desk every day. She was always late.  She cried a lot.

So the picture turns out to be a good reminder of what I had then vs. what I have now. Like everything, it's a trade-off, but one that's working well-enough for me.

I still know how to put on matching clothes and those sexy shoes are still in my closet. The bronchia will be better in a week or so, or else.

And as I slide down the slippery slope that is March, toward the big finish that is my birthday, I am beginning the annual evaluation I affectionately call "Now What?"

One of the wise, albeit superficial things I have learned is this: take every picture anyone asks you to pose in. Never duck the camera and always smile. Because you will never look this good again.

Oh, don't get mad. I mean, you'll look good again in your life. There are days you'll look spectacular. Especially when you wear your hair like that. You look good now and  it's not a straight shot down the hill. But seriously, and I say this with love. You won't look as good in 20 years as you do now. 

So smile and say "cheese." Especially when you're at the DMV.

Comments

[Margy Rydzynski]

A quick inventory reminded me of what the pizza girl was looking at: too-big yoga pants, old fleece top, rain jacket, messed up, graying, unstyled hair, a lovely hacking asthma cough and no makeup. You are right, girlie. That woman you're looking at in the picture is not me.

Now that's a real woman, for sure. Happy International Womens Day!

[Lakshmi]

For some reason this post makes me teary. Maybe because I am in the annual "Now what" stage as well...although it is a good six months away to the milestone.

[Lisa]

Wow. Thanks for posting this. I really loved reading it, but am I the only one who wants to see the DMV photo? Any chance you'd post it?

[minim]

Great post, as always. But you've made me realise that it's midday and I'm still in my pyjamas. Guess I should go and do something about that, eh?

[twitter.com/pattym]

She should really post the photo!

[twitter.com/pattym]

My response to your post is here. Thanks for the inspiration!
http://www.pattymitchell.com/2011/03/pose-smile-click-oh-wait-can-we-try-that-again-.html

[karen c.]

I should have known that Lisa and Patty would demand proof! Posted.