The Look

I remember as a teen wanting to look like anyone but myself. If only I had (fill in the blank with any perfect body part of the models in Seventeen magazine, which in my day was THE magazine every teen girl poured over every month) then the boys would like me more, I'd be popular, I'd be happy, my future would be paved with success and dreams come true. That's a lot of good to come out of simply looking beautiful.

Now that I'm in my late 40's I think about my looks in a very different way. My body is simply a housing unit. I take decent enough care of myself, but always take extremely good care of the self inside the walls — my soul and spirit are what I strive to keep healthy, sometimes effortlessly, other times with wavering success.

I came across this picture of Kate Moss the other day, and for once in probably 10 years, I looked at a picture of a woman and thought, "I would love to look like that." Not exactly like Kate Moss, but with some of the ways she's made to look. Sort of Dusty Springfield meets Brigitte Bardot. The tousled up-do blonde hair with the long bangs. The smokey eyes. Light lipstick. Tan. Sexy as all get out. Imagine me looking somewhat like that with the content way I feel inside . . . I dare to think.