I Wanna Be Pretty
Judy Conlin
All my life, I’ve lived with this perennial femme fatale, my alter ego, Nurse Judy. She won a few beauty contests in our younger days ( nothing major, only local community or school events) but she lords it over me like she was some former beauty queen or celebrity. Believe me, she wasn’t. All this has never really bothered me much. I have been content in my own skin, no matter how many freckles or age spots it had. As time has gone on and fine wrinkles have turned into crevasses, and those erase products are no longer helping my crepey upper arms, her many insults are hitting home.
I try wearing eye cream to get rid of the puffiness under my eyes, and people keep telling me that I have some kind of white film all over my face. I try eyeliner and Nurse Judy tells me I look like a raccoon. I try mascara and have black streaks running down my face because it bothers my tear glands. Nurse Judy makes fun of all my efforts to try and improve my appearance. It is getting me mad.”
“You are always telling me how frumpy I am,”I tell her. “And now when I’m trying to improve , you’re still not happy. Why are you so mean?”
“I’m not mean,” she says. “I’m just honest. You cannot take a dead flower and bring it back to life.”
“Thanks for metaphorically comparing me to a flower,” I say sarcastically, “but I am not dead.”
“You’re so close she says that all your efforts are not going to revive you.”
“If you put a little water on a wilted flower, “ I say, ,,”it perks right up,”.
“If I threw you in the ocean, all that water would just shrivel you up more,” she says. “ Water is not going to help.”
“Don’t be so negative, “ I say. “At least I‘m trying to improve.”
“You could try for a thousand years (and that’s how old you look like) and still never be a beauty queen,” she retorts nastily.
“I don’t want to be a beauty queen,” I say.” I just want to be a little bit pretty.”
“That ship has sailed,” she says meanly.
“Some women can be very attractive in their older years,” I say.
“That’s some women- not you,” she retorts.
I give her a long look. Why is she so against me improving myself? I wonder. Then I have an idea. “ I think you’re jealous of me,” I tell her. “If I get to looking better, you won’t get all the attention. People might notice that you’re getting older too. That’s why you’re being so mean isn’t it?”
“Of course not,” she shouts, all red and angry. “No one would ever be jealous of you.”
‘If I was looking hot, they would,” I say with a smirk.
“The only way you’ll ever look hot is because you’re standing out in our Florida heat.”
She seems defiant but I can tell I’ve gotten to her. I relent a little. I take a more conciliatory tone, “Nurse Judy,” I say. “I know I could never compete with you,” I say. “I just want to be a little less frumpy. I just want to be a little bit pretty. I think you could help me.”
She still wears her grumpy face, but I can tell I’ve gotten to her.
“Make you pretty?” she asks. “I’m not a beautician. I’m not a magician. You’ll never be pretty, but to look at least acceptable, go get all that gook off your face.”
I obey. She may not be any raving beauty herself, but she’s always looked better than me.
Look forward to a new and improved Judy.
More later.Judy www.nursejudyinfo.com
