What today's imagery is doing to society...

I'm a plastic surgeon.
I have spent the last 10 years doing Botox, face lifts, dermatological rejuvenation, making people perfect.
I sit all day removing wrinkles, scars, moles, bra straps and saggy tits.
Liquify is my best friend. It squishes, squeezes, extends, plumps, and minimizes...
Sounds like a Playtex cross your heart commercial.

Then I do it to myself ~ in real life.
Face scrubs, conditioner, waxing, body oil, pedicures, masks, plucking, moisturizer, Spanx, and anti aging serum (which was complete BS, but I bought it for a million dollars, and by George I'm using it).

That's not even half of it... Then there is under eye cover up, base, powder, blush, lip stick, lip liner, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, and of course, Sally Hansen leg spray...does it ever end?

What is this thing we call beauty?

By the time I leave the house I have used 37 products.
...and I'm still old.

I've been tugging on my bra straps lately trying to see what it would be like to hoist those puppies up back to where they were when I was 18 again. I need a hydraulic lift in real life, but I can do it in 2 minutes in Photoshop and it won't hurt a bit or cost a dime.
Self image 0. How did that happen?

We have all seen those Dove commercials where they take a model who is gorgeously flawless. They photograph her, then do Photoshop and morph her into something less than human. This is what is printed, fake perfectness. This is what we see. This is what everyone wants, perfectness. We can't just be happy with who we are. The real thing doesn't exist anymore.

I can write about it all day long. I have seen it all my career. An 18 year old beautiful perfect high school senior girl comes in and criticizes every inch of her body and face. A 55 year old fat guy with a beer gut, bald head and acne scars looks at his images and says "Hey man, my biceps look pumped". 

Why can't girls feel that confident?

What have we done? What am I doing to help create this global facade? Contributing...

It started back in the days of world renown artists, Van Gogh, Renoir, Micheal Angelo. They didn't paint the scars, for heaven's sake Mona Lisa does not have pimples. Not one flaw. We are just reverting back to the old world paintings. Photographs are not accepted these days ROCC. (Right out of the Camera) Even the new sony purse cameras have a portrait setting to blur skin tones and take away imperfections. 

That word imperfection means not perfect. We are all not perfect, but want to pretend we are.

I,  Sherry Patrizi confess to have added to the confusion of self image for all people, mainly women. How can we be flawless in such an imperfect world? A world so full of crime, hatred and war. We want to erase the grit and grunge from life off our faces. Maybe if there are no signs of aging, hurt and hard work we can pretend just for a moment, life is perfect.

Like Mona Lisa.

I do not have a solution, I will continue to buy anti-aging products and hang out with young Moms and high school seniors so I may get small glimpses of the past youth that has left me. I will still take off crows feet, age spots and double chins from my customers and on my self as well. All my high school facebook friends and Christmas card recipients think I'm way thinner and younger than I really am. 

If they ever see me in person they will never recognize me.

I'm blaming it on da Vinci!

Falling in love

I fall in love all the time. Not with another man, but with life. I truly fall in love with other people, mainly small ones and often. I know that might sound weird to some of you, but for me, it is easy to love. I fall in love with little people and their parents, I fall in love with a quote, an image, or gadget in the kitchen. I fall in love with stuff, a garden, a puppy, a prayer, or a pair of shoes. I find new things to love.

I know there are some whom do not experience love of any kind. Some who's hearts are hardened by tragedy, a failed marriage, or the loss of the only love they had. Some who have never experienced a true love of any kind. To those I can't comprehend.

I seek out things to love. But the best is in the flesh ~ in spirit ~ in the souls and eyes of those around you. Beauty and love is abundant, even in the desert.

In our expat lives, which to many seems so extravagant and exciting, and for the most part it is, but we have to say good bye many times to people we have fallen in love with. The small ones are always harder, because you don't know when the next time you see them if they will remember Aunt Sherry or Noodle Head.

But we become family. We are not just acquaintances across the world, we are family. There is a special love you can not explain to those to whom you meet abroad. I have said a thousand times I can't wait to be a grandma, but really I have already been one, in make believe. 

For those of you that are lucky enough to have made sisters, brothers, or become a pretend grandma, BRAVO!

Please allow yourselves to fall in love. Fall in love with where you are, and who you have become, but mostly fall in love with people. Become someone's aunt, or sister and stay family forever. Your last names might not be the same, but your hearts are bound by the love for one another that is rare. You will be blessed with a very big family in the future.

And if you are really lucky, one of those faux grandkids will come visit you one day when you are least expecting it.

To those of you that have experienced this "hello I love you, good bye don't forget me", lifestyle we have, you get it.  We are enriched by all those relationships. 
Our paths cross for reasons. 
Continue to fall in love.

Two Mothers Remembered

I had two mothers - two mothers I claim, two different people yet with the same name. Two separate women diverse by design, but I loved them both, because they both were mine. 

The first was the mother who carried me here, gave birth and nurtured and launched of career. She was the one whose features I bear, complete with the facial expressions I wear. She gave me music which follows me yet, along with examples in life that she set.

Then as I got older, she some younger grew, and we'd laugh as just mothers and daughters can do. But then came the year that her mind clouded so, and I sensed that the mother I'd known soon would go. So quickly she changed and turned to the other, a stranger who dressed in the clothes of my mother.  

Oh she looked the same, at least at arm's length, but she was the child now and I was her strength. 

We'd come full circle we women of three, my mother the first, the second and me. 

And now if my own children should come to a day, when a new mother comes, and the old one goes away. I'd ask of them nothing that I didn't do. Love both your mothers as both have loved you.