I hadn't noticed yet, but this was manifest in the amount of glitter applied to her eyelids~and cheeks~and chin~and forehead (who knew foreheads needing a dusting of dazzle?)...and the bright red lipstick seeping well beyond her lips boundaries~as true beauty knows NO boundaries..and the fragmented smoothing of her Hollywood hair style, rats nest in the back, brushed front and sides. (She can't even see the back, Mom, so nobody else can either. Duh.)
Another long sigh...and hip shift with leg thrown out, thumping loudly on the carpeted floor. I didn't know legs could thump loudly on carpet, but if they're attached to a nine year old in make up, they do.
I finally looked up, jumped and startled, but then composed very quickly, as I knew we were treading treacherous ugly-stage territory.
"Wow. Look at you. That...is...some sparklin' you got goin' on there." I smile an eyebrow furrowing smile, meant to convey "What the H?" but in a very kind and motherly way.
She's proud. Just as proud as proud can be. She throws her hands down and across her outfit in a flourish and exclaims, "Look! Do you like my outfit? I just MADE IT UP!"
Truth had been spoken. It was apparent that this design was her very own masterpiece. And then I started to think and nearly speak critically, but before any damage was done, Heavenly Father stepped in by hurling me wildly back in time to exactly this moment in my own life.
There I was, walking through the neighborhood streets, pushing the stroller for a child I was babysitting (kind of insane that someone would trust me with their child at age 9) and clomping along in my gold and blue "culotte" ensemble, complete with dark suntan pantyhose (my mothers) and wedgie heels (my older sisters) and a puss completely smothered in a pot of cream blue eyeshadow (free sample from the Avon lady) and Max Factor lips.
Wasn't wearing a bra~which was painfully apparent~but not to me.
I thought I was beautiful. Stunning, in fact. I knew my teenage sister's boyfriends preferred me to her, and were just hanging around the house to catch a glimpse of me in my pre-pubescent glory. Poor sister~If she only knew.
So BAM, SLAM, BACK TO THE PRESENT and I blink my eyes hard and fast and feel like I'm looking at my own twin~just 32 years later.
Oh. I know who you are, beautiful girl.