Beauty

Shipwrecks, Superior, Sailing, Survival

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Last week I had the opportunity to see Gordon Lightfoot live in concert. I am not a huge fan, but have a great appreciation for his music. It was almost magical hearing him perform The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald considering that today is the 40th anniversary of the ship’s sinking. Over a decade ago, Paul and I had the opportunity to go the Shipwreck Museum at Whitefish Bay on Lake Superior near the location of the wreckage. I remember really enjoying the tour of the lighthouse there. I can’t imagine the solitude of being a keeper of the light over the cold lonely winter months. The summer months alone offer cool temps and solitude.

After touring the museum and lighthouse, we walked along the shore of Lake Superior. Even on the warmest summer days, the water is too cold to swim in. A few minutes of exposure gives you the pins and needles feeling. The average surface temps of the water are between 32 F and 55 F, so if you are thinking of visiting in the summer make sure to bring a winter coat. I have seen very hot days of 90 F on Lake Superior, still not a lot of swimmers.

On the way back, we stopped for a whitefish fry in Paradise. Then winding our way  back down Upper Michigan, we stopped at Tahquamenon Falls State Park to view the waterfalls. We decided spontaneously to take a hike from the upper falls to the lower falls and back. It was a total of 8 miles. This was before I became a runner. Why I thought that hiking an eight mile rustic trail in flip flops was a great idea, I will never know. Upper Michigan is an absolutely beautiful area to travel. If you do get the chance to put your feet in the water of Lake Superior that would be a great bucket list item. Or better yet, sail all of the Great Lakes. That may end up on my bucket list soon.

Last night I dreamt that my husband wanted me to go sailing with him on Lake Superior. I remember feeling trepidation towards those trepid waters. I woke up thankful that the sailboat is tucked away in hibernation for the winter. Absolutely no way we could be tempted to take a quick sail on Lake Superior even if it has been a warm November. I couldn’t fathom sailing or being on a ship on Lake Superior in November with hurricane winds and during a blizzard. Imagine if you can getting sprayed with ice cold water with 20 to 30 foot waves. I remember getting sprayed with cold water in 4 foot waves and that was bone chilling enough for me. That was in the middle of summer.

If you want a true survival show experience I would suggest November on Lake Superior. I bet even the producers of Naked and Afraid know that the survivalists probably wouldn’t even make it one day there. A couple years back, Paul went ice fishing on Lake Superior. It was during that weekend that Lake Superior claimed the life of the Lake Superior ice fishing expert and guide. What a fearful place, the lake that is so cold that it doesn’t give up its dead.

The lake does draw people in like a siren with its immense beauty. I would like to see the ice caves, only made under the right conditions, along Lake Superior. I have toured the Apostle Islands. I also toured the Pictured Rocks, someday I will show you those pictures. They are absolutely breathtaking. Someday I may even be brave enough to sail on Lake Superior. It is beautiful enough to draw me in, but it can’t keep me.

Sheerly not cut out for it

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I really suck at cutting hair. I could use the left handed excuse of having to learn how to cut with my right hand, but I don’t even think that would cut it. I didn’t always think that I sucked at it. As a teen, I got sick of my autistic brother constantly pulling my hair. It hurt. I noticed that my younger brothers didn’t get their hair pulled, probably because it was too short to pull. Just my mom and I got our long hair pulled. I got really sick of it so one day I took a scissors in my right hand and hacked off around 6 inches of long tresses and lot of stress. People commented. They liked my new hair cut. I thought that I wasn’t terribly bad at it.

Then I got married and had kids. My oldest daughter needed her bangs trimmed as a toddler and I was on it. I cut her bangs, but they were crooked. So I kept cutting until they were straight and about a quarter of an inch long. I didn’t really suck. She wasn’t sitting still. People commented. Ah, your daughter decided to cut her own hair. Poor thing. She wasn’t talking too much yet, so I didn’t argue that I was the one who hacked her hair. It wasn’t too long after that when she started to cut her own hair. She was better at it then I was.

Then my husband got the idea of buying a hair cutting kit to shave some money. He liked to cut his hair short so it really wasn’t that complicated. I could almost handle that. I decided to take on bigger things, my dad’s hair. First, let me tell you that he looks exactly like Santa Claus. He has a humongous stomach, everything else is flat. He has long gray hair with an equally long beard that children could try to yank off and find it to be real. He has the glasses that he looks over, worn on the lower part of his nose. He would be a perfect Santa Claus in appearance. He would just have to work on being jolly. He would have to smile and tolerate little children. He would have to give them candy instead of hiding it to eat himself. Darn, it would have been so perfect otherwise.

I made the mistake of offering to cut my dad’s hair. This is a job that my mom always did, but for some reason didn’t have time for. At one point in her life, my mom wanted to be a hairdresser. During her senior year, the high school had a career day. They brought in someone that worked with the disabled doing what she does now. That person probably never knew that by telling high school kids about his career changed my mother’s whole career and life path. I don’t see her being happy as a beautician. She loves her career and finds it very fulfilling.

The day came for my dad’s hair cut. He came over to my house. I realized quickly that I was in a little too deep. My dad’s hair was long. My husband’s hair was short. I decided to buzz my dad’s hair using the longest setting. It really wasn’t going very well. As I was buzzing the back of my dad’s head, the guard came off. I gave him a very noticeable bald spot down the back of his head. Thankfully, he just laughed the whole thing off. After that incident, things such as scissors and hair cutting kits mysteriously vanished from my house. My mom made time to cut my dad’s hair. My husband stopped complaining about $20 hair cuts.

I realized that cutting hair was sheerly not my thing.

Blessed with beauty?

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I got my first plastic surgery ad in the mail this year. I tore it up in utter contempt and disgust. I personally believe the plastic should be reserved for the burned, the grossly disfigured, genetic mutations, and Hollywood stars. But I may be biased because I have always been beautiful. I feel my beauty starting to fade a little. But, guess what? I am ok with that. I always worried that I would feel angst about this, but when the time comes it is more of a relief. 

People have always said that I look a little like Nicole Kidman. My golden blonde tresses now streaked with gray. Little blue eyes, high cheekbones, tiny ears, small nose, and full sensous lips. Average height, small boned, thin frame, athletically toned, summer golden brown tan, curvy everywhere except my hips, dainty feet. 

I think that beauty is a really touchy subject. I felt some reluctance bringing it up. What is beauty? Skin deep? In the eyes of its beholder? Inner? It really is not fair! You are either born beautiful or not. No amount of expensive elixirs can change this fact. You have no control. It is coveted, but downplayed as unimportant. Inner beauty is what matters. If that is the case, a blind person may be the best judge of beauty. Because it takes a very strong person to overlook beauty. 

But what is it really like? I received a lot of positive attention over the years and sometimes special treatment. People exclaiming how beautiful I am, that I should be a model. My mom took me to private modeling classes, I got the headshots, was taught how to pose with poise, and was offered the opportunity to be a model. I turned it down and really had no passion for it at all. 

There is a dark side to beauty. It is dangerous. You have to take extra caution regarding your safety.  I have been followed home multiple times. There was a guy that I mentioned previously who passed the semi in the pouring rain on a 2 lane highway in a no passing zone to get my number. Creapy! And another man that followed me 10 miles, when my oldest was a baby in the car, down deserted rural roads. Thank God I had a bag phone in my car. I called my husband and gave him the guy’s plate numbers. The guy saw me pick up my phone and passed me. 

Or that time I went swimming with a friend as a teen and a guy came up and grabbed at me. He wouldn’t leave me alone until I promised to hook up with him later on that night. I didn’t. 

Or my friend’s fiancé who said I looked so hot that he wanted to take me in the bedroom and rape me. He said that in front of a group of guys. I decided not to stand up in their wedding. He was a cheater and the marriage didn’t last. 

Or the pastor when I said my extended family was going through a hard time couldn’t look me in the eye, ignored my requests for prayer, and refused to talk to me. Grow up!

Or the co-worker who sexually harassed me in my summer factory job whenever I looked straight ahead by making vulgar gestures with his hands and mouth. 

Or the time that a blind date took one look at me and physically ran away. After feeling rejected and crying to be told later that he was afraid because he heard I was into modeling. 

Or by trying to defy beauty, pretend it didn’t matter, and saying yes to go out with the ugliest guy in school in utter defiance of beauty to find out it did matter. 

Or being stalked by ex-boyfriends when out with other guys. Like the time my ex had my name announced over the loudspeaker at the county fair to meet up with him. Trying to hide my car. Having a rose left under my windshield wiper when I woke up in the morning. Being watched at work. 

Or being cat called while walking down the street, getting my mail, or running. 

Or going out with friends to be grabbed, grinded on, touched unwantedly, or bought endless drinks. Believe me saying that you are a lesbian to dissuade them does not work. 

Or being verbally or physically attacked by other girls who think their boyfriends are spending too much time gazing upon you. So I ended up being chased by a large amount of scum bags who judged me only by my looks and hated by women that felt threatened by my looks. 

Or receiving special treatment from a handsome, young, married high school teacher who told me how grown up I looked. He always winked at me and called me miss while addressing the other girls by their first names. 

Or the guy that said he would take me to a Poison concert if I would sleep with him. 

Or the time I had to lock myself in my mom’s car to fend off boys with condoms. 

I am ready to retire and am handing the baton down to my beautiful 17 year old daughter who has already been stalked, followed home, and hated by less fortunate girls. Feel blessed if you have a little above average looks. That is the sweet place. Don’t worry about the couple of extra pounds that you need to lose. Rip up the plastic surgery ads. Don’t fall for the trap of promised beauty. It really isn’t worth it! Rejoice in your imperfections because there you will find true beauty. A person who can love you for who you really are.