Angst in the Dressing Room

You are never uglier than when in a department store dressing room.

I don't care how beautiful you are - or aren't - you are just going to suck in a department store dressing room. With the harsh, florescent, overhead lights shining on you in a closet sized space casting shadows over your body and the pasty neutral paint that blends into your skin tone - regardless of your skin color, there is no hope for a positive outcome.

Every blemish, every dimple, line, crease, bump or lump is magnified and negatively enhanced. I believe they use refurbished carnival fun house mirrors. And even if you do your hair really cute and put on perfect makeup - you are going to look like hell.

And because the experience is so awful, many of us wind up buying things that really don't look great on us. Because even a burlap sack is going to make us look better than we do standing in front of the mirror in just our underwear in a dressing room. Once we're home and try it on in front of our own reasonable mirrors, we can see that the item was "on sale" for a reason.

And you've heard a million times of the painful experience of trying on bathing suits. It's really bad - but not as bad as trying on bras.

And that's why we buy so many shoes.

Today is My Birthday and I Am Forty-Thirteen!!!

How can this baby be 53? This photo is of me when I was about a year old and also, apparently, a little boy. I have been staring at this photo - and wondering how it is possible that I have had a whole life between the time this photo was taken and today, as I sit at my computer in my pink fluffy bathrobe with my cup of coffee and blackberry close beside.

There is comfort in knowing that everyone else from the high school graduating class of 1975 - yes 1975! - is also in their extremely late 40s. Or celebrating the 23th anniversary of their 30th birthday.

Or 53.

It really doesn't bother me to be 53. Much. But I have to wonder at the fact that it is highly improbable that I have another 53 in me. And that is weird - that one day, the world will actually spin - without me in it. Or rather, technically, with me in it - but 6 feet in it and not as an active participant.

So I have begun this personally significant morning ironically, by pondering my own mortality. But before I have a chance to go too deeply in the wrong direction, iTunes jumps in to save the day by presenting me with George Harrison, who reminds me: "Here comes the sun". (Doot 'n doo dah...)

As quickly as George can say "the ice is slowly melting" I am refocused on more productive thoughts and I think about what I am doing at this very moment - writing a post for my blog. It occurs to me that probably everyone of us has a book in us. My life has been a real roller coaster but the ride has been, for the most part, memorable. One year ago today, I was luxuriating at the Ojai Valley Spa with a day of treatments that had been given to me by my girls for my birthday. In this peaceful state of mind, reading a book called "The Dream Giver", I decided to start a blog to sort of put on paper all the things going through my head as I dealt with the loss of my job. I went home and googled "how to start a blog" and on June 22nd, posted my first entry. Along the way, I have picked up some readers who have, they tell me, related. And that is really great and validating. But the best thing about it is that I now have a years worth of personal reflections that my girls will have. And maybe it will mean something to them. I have a little handmade book of paper designs made by my grandmother in 1906 when she was 6 years old. And I treasure it. My kids may not care but I think they will. I would have given anything to have had something like this from my mom. Or my dad. Maybe he still will.

So today I am a year older and my blog is a year old. Maybe I'll keep writing until I am forty-twenty. Or maybe forty-thirty. And so, you may be thinking: "Oh will she ever shut up?" Well, so long as I am in my forties, no, apparently.

"So Pathetic"

I took Grace to see the Tony Award winning Lincoln Center production of "South Pacific" last night at the Ahmanson Theatre in downtown Los Angeles. She enjoyed the dinner we had at the outdoor cafe just outside the theatre (see photo). I think she enjoyed the play too - although I did catch her more than once playing with her fingers in the darkened theatre. One can hardly blame her. While the show was ground-breaking for its time and boasts some of the most beautiful songs ever written for the theatre, it is three hours long. It also boasts a script so weak that no production, however wonderful, can lift the dialog off the paper. The extremely white paper. So it may not surprise you to hear that actors who have been in (or seen) too many productions of "South Pacific" frequently refer to it as "So Pathetic".

Nevertheless though, I felt myself awash with chills several times last night. "Chills" is how I personally rate the effectiveness of a show. And the musical numbers were nothing short of astounding. And for the first time in many, many years - I actually missed being on the stage.

I have never really regretted not pursuing a career on the stage. When I was in my late 20's and really had to make a choice, I needed to decide between personal fulfillment and actually making money. Money won. And money gave me a life I am content with. And I suppose you could say that I am personally fulfilled on a variety of levels. Certainly marriage and children. And faith in God. But as I was watching a very capable actress take on Nellie Forbush "washing that man right out of her hair" and being "as corny as Kansas in August", I realized that I knew exactly how she felt. I could feel the stage under my feet. I could feel the fit of the character shoes on my feet. I feel the space of the stage. I knew the feeling of being in the character while at the same time being aware of the audience - gauging them, playing them, moving them and taking them with me where I wanted them to go. It is an extremely powerful feeling. And a humbling one as well. And last night, I missed it like hell. Because last night I came face to face with the fact that there has been nothing to replicate the feeling of exhilaration I felt when I was performing.

And I was good.

Okay, maybe not great, but good. This week an old friend posted something on my Facebook page. He directed me in the very successful west coast premiere of "Personals" (I know - you still haven't heard of it). It was about 17 years ago and it was close to magical for me. Anyway, he said this:

I was packing up all my stuff a couple of weeks ago--came across the archival video of PERSONALS from the LA Production--and let me tell you something MISS VALRI JACKSON-SMITH, YOU! YOU! YOU--were so wonderful in it...I still marveled at your amazing performance...and I had to post this on your wall for ALL TO KNOW! Hope you are well...happy and busy! Lot's of love, Darrin

And reading that was such a gift, you know? And I have to say too that in this case, he was right. We all won theatre critics awards to that show.

Anyway, I digress - back to last night. I sat in the theatre and thought of the roles I have played and the roles I have not played and the ones I never will play. And I had regret. It occurred to me that I could still play Rose in "Gypsy" - but as I have let my union card go, and no one knows me anymore, it is unlikely that if anyone was putting this show together, I would ever get cast. And so, I may have to end as I began - putting on a show in the garage for the neighborhood kids. But something tells me they wouldn't appreciate the profound nuances of my performance as the ultimate stage-mother. Besides, I think "Gypsy" is about 3 hours long as well. But perform it I will! In my head.

So pathetic.

Back to Grace. She is the only one of our four children who has any real interest in the theatre. And while she was clearly bored at times last night, she did spend the drive home trying to master Nellie's Little Rock, Arkansas accent. And should she ever be in a production of "So Pathetic", I will gladly sit through it once again and wait for the chills.