While reading a friend’s blog yesterday, I was reminded of a hurtful incident a long, long time ago.
It was sometime before 1990. I had been depressed because I had suffered a miscarriage a couple of months before. My then husband and I were discussing my depression and he said he would like it if I would put on make up and dress up more often. I thought about it and figured that was something I could do for myself and for the kids and for him. As a busy mom of two kids who were about 7 and 4 at the time, I rarely wore any make up (except eyeliner…I ALWAYS wore eyeliner) unless we were going out some place other than to school or the grocery store or to AYSO soccer games.
The next day, I remembered what he had said and when he called to say he was on his way home, I went into the bathroom and put make up on. Now you must realize that I have never been one to wear a lot of make up. Although I did wear foundation, blush, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick, it was all put on in great moderation. Some people had previously commented that they could barely tell I had any make up on. So that day I put on fresh make up and changed into something that wasn’t dirty from the day’s wear.
When I heard the car come in the driveway, I was glad that I was all ready for him and that he’d see I was making an effort to look good and hopefully feel better than I had been feeling. The kids ran to the door to meet their dad and I was behind them. He walked in, picked the kids up in his arms, took one look at me and laughed. Then he told my son to ask me if I was going to the circus because I sure looked like a clown!
Needless to say, that was one of the last times I put make up on just to wear it around the house. I figured I was damned if I didn’t and damned if I did! And, I was really, really hurt.
Wasted Days And Wasted Nights 