My Face is a Bowl

This is what I saw today while watching myself do the testimonial. One, my face is a bowl. Since I'm trying to be positive-- I'm positive my face is a bowl. Two, I'm so uncomfortable in front of the camera I do this weird thing where I talk out of the side of my mouth. Neither things are particularly attractive. To say nothing of the weird eyeshadow they put on me and this gloss stuff on my hair that makes me look even more like bowl-like. Okay, maybe John was right. Maybe I don't love myself. Harumph. I hate it when he's right.

Today, besides the bowl thing, I also learned getting into Habitat for Humanity is a difficult thing. Who knew that it's hard to volunteer your time to build things? Okay, they build things in cool places, but still. So why the sudden Habitat thing? It's because I thought: I need to give. Maybe it will thin my face down. No, that's not why. I thought, I need to give, maybe it will take the focus away from me for awhile. And make me feel like I've done something good for someone else and something substantial. I'm going to keep trying. I need a reality check. And I've never been one to lay on a beach anyway. Well, if you don't count high school. That's all I did the summer of my freshman year in high school. I got super black for a white girl. We used baby oil back in those days. Getting black was an accomplishment. Oh, to have life be that simple. Anyway, that's also how I became a blonde. Well, with a little help from Sun-In. Is that stuff still around? If so, your hair will go orange first, then get to blonde. The orange thing isn't so great, but it worked with my cheerleading uniform--- which was navy, orange and white. Nothing like having hair with school spirit.

So now that the pain has subsided from my body-- 1 Claritin D, 2 Mucinex D and 2 Motrin later, I'm in a much better space. I think that body pain definitely influences emotional pain. I'm sure there are studies. That being said, to further remind myself that my pain is nothing in the grand scheme of pain, I spoke to one of my friends yesterday, Scott. He has ALS. One minute we were having cocktails at The Avalon Hotel in Beverly Hills watching his muscles twitch-- this weird traveling twitch up his arm-- with me telling him it didn't look so normal and he should have it checked out-- being that I am a professional sick person-- and the next, he was in a wheelchair. It breaks my heart. He is an amazing, amazing person. Super talented. Incredibly optimistic. And giving. He directed a movie he wrote while he was in his wheelchair. It's getting really good reviews. They just have to find a distributor. He's been to a few festivals already, but it's hard for him to travel to them. He said it's hard to sell an independent film nowadays unless you get into Sundance. I hope it gets released. The Weitz Brothers ("About a Boy") produced it. And Patrick Fugit ("Almost Famous") stars in it.

So being a rock star himself, Scott has a rock star for a wife. Neither of them are actual rock star, but she's an amazing woman too-- who has completely dedicated herself to Scott They completely love each other. (This picture above is of me and Scott at their wedding-- the summer I went to 6 weddings and revisited my tan and tacky nailpolish). They both have a sense of humor about life. Which is astounding. And they also have perspective. If that's possible. They feel lucky to have each other. Ann and I were talking about how one of her friends said that if her husband got ALS, she didn't think she could stand by him. Yet, she's getting fertility treatments so she can get pregnant. If that doesn't give you pause, what does? Here's a picture of Ann and Scott at a birthday party... keep in mind, this was all about 5 years ago.


Scott still works. He writes every day with the help of one of those computer programs that recognizes your voice. He said he's bald now. Has a belly with a tube in it. He can't walk any more or pick up a fork. Things that I know we all take for granted. That's another reason why kids are so great. They're happy when they can just go to the bathroom by themselves, get dressed by themselves, read, and write, you get it. Which is a kinder, gentler reminder that we should all be grateful for the little things in life. All of which are far more important than my face being a bowl.