As I look down at both positive pregnancy tests my head is spinning. How did this happen again? I was supposed to be getting my tubes tied, I am on birth control pills...
I am in shock, too scared to be happy. Memories of last year and the loss of two pregnancies in less than six months are running through my head. I was unable to even get pregnant after I had Robby nearly 13 years ago. So when Todd and I got married and became pregnant I was so happy. I always wanted a little girl...someone to share my love of shopping and hair. Sadly a few weeks after finding out I noticed something wrong. I had my ultrasound and saw the little heartbeat. Two days later the baby was gone. My heart ached. Just a few months later and I was pregnant again, deeply afraid... I got morning sickness, slept all the time. When I went in at 8 weeks the baby had stopped growing, no heartbeat. My heart sank and I knew it was a matter of time and this baby would also be gone. It took a few weeks and the worst mental and physical pain. The thought of having a dead baby inside me just killed my mental state. I immediately went to the doctor for Depo. This last year my body has gone through hell, and it gave me time to think. Is a baby something I really want? Can I handle starting over?Can I handle the pain of another loss? My answer was no. I talked with the doctor about my options with getting my tubes tied. We settled on the best plan, but my insurance deductible needed to be met first. I had no choice but to go back on the pill. Here I am two months later and pregnant again. My heart aches for the unknown. I can't be happy because I am paralyzed by fear. My head tells me to prepare for another loss...I am scared. I can't feel. I can't cry...I am lost.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Barbizon...Glam or Sham?
Barbizon Modeling School, a name that has been around since I first starting out as a model nearly 20 years ago. Back then, I was an awkward looking girl with long brown hair, and still sporting bell-bottoms and ugly sweaters. Like many young girls today, I too had the dream of becoming a high fashion model. Only being 5'5 at the time, I was forced to do pageantry like every other short girl back then. Pageants were the only way for petite girls to break into the modeling world. Pageantry is much different from the glamorous life of a runway model; I was eager to break the standards and hoped be an exception to the strict rule of needing to be 5'8. After my first pageant, a “talent scout” for Barbizon approached me. He claimed I could be a model and I could go to school on a "scholarship". Naturally, I begged my parents to go even though it was over an hour drive from where we lived. We arrived at the Barbizon offices in downtown Portland and I was excited with the big city and potentially being a model. We walked into the office of the owner of the school. I still remember her name was Phyllis. She was a beautiful older woman with brown hair and deep brown eyes. She sported one of the largest gemstone rings I have ever seen. Even though it has been 20 years, I still remember all the details of the way she looked. She told me I was a raving beauty, and she really saw my potential. Naturally, I was excited to hear that they would accept me into the program despite my shortcomings in the height department. The cost was well over two thousand dollars, but she expressed that the classes were small and they only accepted girls who they thought would make it. They assured my parents it was money well spent. Deep down my parents knew they could not afford such a thing but they did it anyway. They wanted me to be happy and after all Miss Phyllis said she would even cover some of the money required so that I can attend. I would be driven to Portland every other Saturday by my parents to attend these modeling classes. The classes were basics on how to wear makeup, walk, and dress and present yourself. I will admit they did clean up my look a little but I was far from super model material. Fast forward thousands of dollars later, another year gone by, and I am still the same small town shortie with no modeling job offers. It began to sink in that we had been taken for a ride.
Now 20 years later, I find myself pulling up to the new Barbizon offices located in the Hollywood District of Portland. I had been called in for a job interview to work for the sales team. Needing some extra cash, I decided to give the interview a shot and see if things have changed with the company over the years. I walked up the staircase and through the glass door, not impressed with my surroundings one bit. The place had movie posters of Twilight, Hannah Montana and a few others that looked as if they were just thrown up on the wall to make them look professional. Giving the false impression that they somehow discovered the stars that graced the walls. I took my seat on the cheap plastic chair in the lobby that was filled with furnishings from Ikea. I overhear a few conversations in the background and some woman claiming she was out of the office right now and on her way to some important meeting. A lie, as she was sitting at her desk and speaking on her cell phone. Hmm, here we go with the dishonesty. Older and much more hip to the lies adults tell I am wondering what type of interview this will be. Finally, my name was called and I go into the office of the woman who will be interviewing me. I shake her hand and have a seat. As I sit across from her, I begin to examine her looks. She is very tall, about six feet. She has blonde hair and blue eyes; I cannot help but think she looks exactly like the actress Kristen Johnson from "3rd Rock from the Sun". With the exception of what appears to be way to much Botox as her brows sort of have the "Spock" look to them. She explains how she was a "big time model" and she signed with Elite twice, a fact I find hard to believe looking at her now. She talks of the celebrities they have produced and mentions a few names I have never heard of. She then shows me some before and after shots of some of the girls. Not too shabby, but $2,500 bucks for a little makeover is just insane. I could pull a random girl off the street and do the same thing. I ask her the details of the job position and she says, "What we do is create the sense of urgency to the kids and the parents, we tell them we only accept 15 students in each class. However, the truth is if we have 30, girls who want in we just create two classes. We make it seem like we are very selective with our girls, but honestly we will accept anyone who wants to pay." Wow, there you have it... nothing has changed. Even still, they prey on the hopes and dreams of young women and the parents. They know that none of these girls will really have the chance to be a real model. Then she asks me if I speak Spanish because Hispanics are really nice and really apt to spend the money for their daughters. Wow. I have pretty much heard enough. She invites me to come in and watch the open casting call this Sunday and for a minute I consider coming in just to see what they say to these poor girls to swindle them. Instead, I decide it is best to not have a part of it at all. So here I am, writing this article to warn the unsuspecting population if hopeful girls and parents out there. If you really want to be a model, submit a photo of you directly to a reputable agency. If you have to pay thousands of dollars to be trained on how to be a model it is a fraud girls. Run for the hills.
Now 20 years later, I find myself pulling up to the new Barbizon offices located in the Hollywood District of Portland. I had been called in for a job interview to work for the sales team. Needing some extra cash, I decided to give the interview a shot and see if things have changed with the company over the years. I walked up the staircase and through the glass door, not impressed with my surroundings one bit. The place had movie posters of Twilight, Hannah Montana and a few others that looked as if they were just thrown up on the wall to make them look professional. Giving the false impression that they somehow discovered the stars that graced the walls. I took my seat on the cheap plastic chair in the lobby that was filled with furnishings from Ikea. I overhear a few conversations in the background and some woman claiming she was out of the office right now and on her way to some important meeting. A lie, as she was sitting at her desk and speaking on her cell phone. Hmm, here we go with the dishonesty. Older and much more hip to the lies adults tell I am wondering what type of interview this will be. Finally, my name was called and I go into the office of the woman who will be interviewing me. I shake her hand and have a seat. As I sit across from her, I begin to examine her looks. She is very tall, about six feet. She has blonde hair and blue eyes; I cannot help but think she looks exactly like the actress Kristen Johnson from "3rd Rock from the Sun". With the exception of what appears to be way to much Botox as her brows sort of have the "Spock" look to them. She explains how she was a "big time model" and she signed with Elite twice, a fact I find hard to believe looking at her now. She talks of the celebrities they have produced and mentions a few names I have never heard of. She then shows me some before and after shots of some of the girls. Not too shabby, but $2,500 bucks for a little makeover is just insane. I could pull a random girl off the street and do the same thing. I ask her the details of the job position and she says, "What we do is create the sense of urgency to the kids and the parents, we tell them we only accept 15 students in each class. However, the truth is if we have 30, girls who want in we just create two classes. We make it seem like we are very selective with our girls, but honestly we will accept anyone who wants to pay." Wow, there you have it... nothing has changed. Even still, they prey on the hopes and dreams of young women and the parents. They know that none of these girls will really have the chance to be a real model. Then she asks me if I speak Spanish because Hispanics are really nice and really apt to spend the money for their daughters. Wow. I have pretty much heard enough. She invites me to come in and watch the open casting call this Sunday and for a minute I consider coming in just to see what they say to these poor girls to swindle them. Instead, I decide it is best to not have a part of it at all. So here I am, writing this article to warn the unsuspecting population if hopeful girls and parents out there. If you really want to be a model, submit a photo of you directly to a reputable agency. If you have to pay thousands of dollars to be trained on how to be a model it is a fraud girls. Run for the hills.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Egyptian Gala
On my quest for something more, I decided to splurge a little and attend the Egyptian Gala. I had been looking forward to the event for months. At $250 a person I figured this would be a great chance to mingle in the upper class of Portland. This was my chance to be seen, to make an impression in the community. Mainly it was an excuse to purchase that new Helmut Lang dress and sport a new pair of Dolce Mary Jane's. This is another thing I do in my quest for more. I spend money, mainly money my husband has absolutely no idea of. I imagine if he only knew what I really spend on shopping...well I would be most likely forced to build a house of all my shoe boxes and live in the back yard! I would be forced to stand on the street corner with a sign that reads, "Will work for Gucci". I do suspect he does have some idea of my recent purchases as his side of the closet is starting to shrink and I have been pleading we buy a house with a bigger walk in closet to house all my shoes, coats and handbags. Shopping makes me smile, and so does being a social butterfly.
My husband does not join me in the quest for something more, so I decided to enlist a gal pal of mine to spend the $250 and come with me. She is after all one of the only single gal pals of mine left. I convinced her it would be a nice place to look for a husband :) Having never been married or even asked for that matter, she quickly jumped at the idea of going.
My husband does not join me in the quest for something more, so I decided to enlist a gal pal of mine to spend the $250 and come with me. She is after all one of the only single gal pals of mine left. I convinced her it would be a nice place to look for a husband :) Having never been married or even asked for that matter, she quickly jumped at the idea of going.
I purchased my ticket straight away but she chose to wait it out. The day before the Gala I am in a panic that she had not yet purchased her ticket. We tried to do it on the web but they were "SOLD OUT". My goodness how could an event held in such a large building ever sell out?? I am not one to take no for an answer so she and I jumped in the car and drove downtown straight away in the hopes to sweet talk our way into another ticket. We arrived 15 minutes later. We were told to wait in the lobby and the manager would be down shortly. As we looked up we saw an older gentleman in his early 50's strolling down the stairs. Ahh, this ought to be easy...two ladies trying to convince a man to let us in to a party. He tells us he is sure there are tickets they can free up but he would not know until the morning of the event. Impatiently I wait all morning, dreading the thought of having to go alone to this Gala. I could imagine myself in my Helmut Lang dress and Dolce shoes, looking great but sitting in a corner drinking alone. No way! Even though I am an extremely social girl, the thought of not having a partner in crime made me a little nervous. At three o'clock I got a call from the marketing director and he snagged us an extra ticket. Now was the time to doll ourselves up.
My gal pal shows up to my salon with Vodka...hmm, not really something I figured either of us needed considering the "open bar". An hour later she is trashed already, and my hopes for a classy evening were starting to diminish. In the car I gave her the lecture of behaving classy as this was not just some dive bar to be falling all over in a drunken stupor. I look over at her in silence and wonder how on earth does she manage to be so thrown together effortlessly and still look so beautiful? Her blond hair twisted up in a messy bun, a crystal hair clip in the back and her bangs bobby pinned to the side of her head. She is glossy eyed and her mouth is covered in a sultry red lipstick... effortlessly beautiful I say to her. As we pull up to the Gala I am filled with excitement. I am after all a lover of Egyptian history having even gone there in the late 90’s for nearly a month. When I was little I wanted to be an Egyptologist. I did not have the funds to go to school for such a thing, so I just bought books and studied on my own.
My gal pal shows up to my salon with Vodka...hmm, not really something I figured either of us needed considering the "open bar". An hour later she is trashed already, and my hopes for a classy evening were starting to diminish. In the car I gave her the lecture of behaving classy as this was not just some dive bar to be falling all over in a drunken stupor. I look over at her in silence and wonder how on earth does she manage to be so thrown together effortlessly and still look so beautiful? Her blond hair twisted up in a messy bun, a crystal hair clip in the back and her bangs bobby pinned to the side of her head. She is glossy eyed and her mouth is covered in a sultry red lipstick... effortlessly beautiful I say to her. As we pull up to the Gala I am filled with excitement. I am after all a lover of Egyptian history having even gone there in the late 90’s for nearly a month. When I was little I wanted to be an Egyptologist. I did not have the funds to go to school for such a thing, so I just bought books and studied on my own.
We get to the entrance and there is a large and rather smelly Camel. Cute I thought, but I still feel the same about the spitting creatures as I had in Egypt. They were cute, but vile and smelly. The inside was like something out of Arabian nights. There were tents with an assortment of desserts, interesting food and of course bars. Our first 10 minutes were spent in the restroom touching up hair and makeup and taking self inflicted pictures with our cell phones. I was in a hurry to get in line for a cocktail. After another 15 minutes we finally got to the front of the line and were poured our vodka drink of choice down an ice block sculpted like a bottle of Kettle One. My vodka drink was yummy, but strong. No complaint here. My girlfriend on the other hand could not walk one foot without spilling the contents of her drink on herself and the floor. I was anxious to go upstairs and look at the artifacts but I was the only interested party. Looking around I saw men and women of all ages, some with the stench of having too much money. But then again is there such a thing? After all money is a big part of my quest, so what makes these people different? Even when you have a lot of money is there not always the inner need to have more?
Scouring the room I really didn't see many men who were single and the ones who were, well they were not looking for a single girl such as the likes of my friend. As much as I love her, she drinks way to much for her own good and her level of class at the Gala dropped with every moment spent. I could not help but think to myself I would have had a better time going it alone. Perhaps then I would not have turned five shades of red during the Auction. Had she only been able to sit there and not laugh when everyone else was silent… I quickly made the bathroom excuse and headed to grab another cocktail. The Gala was a wonderful event in itself but my company was lacking. After a few more cocktails and my friend not finding her future husband we decided to call it a night and headed out the door. In reflection, I am thinking next time I am fulfilling my quest, sometimes going the road alone is ok. Next time it will just be me and my Manolo's.
To Dye or Not to Dye
Owning a Salon in today's economy has been that of a challenge for me the past two years. Looking back I remember how eager I was to get going in the industry we call "Beauty''. Times were different in the good old days of fashion and beauty. Women and teens would flock to the salon to get the must have hair or makeup they saw on the red carpet, fresh off the runway or tearing off a clip in a fashion magazine and exclaiming "Make me look like her!" Women were dropping hundreds on hair coloring, highlighting, perms, that edgy new haircut. Something horrible has happened to the industry of beauty. Ladies are asking the question, do I need this? Can I afford it? When they do decide to go with it they will push touch ups out 8 weeks or more. Gone are the days of the every 4-6 weeks. Yes, women still want to be beautiful, we still love the allure of having a fresh new look. Beauty is on a budget these days. Salon's like mine are forced to turn to other sources such as Groupon, Living Social and other online deal marketing campaigns. We are forced to offer discounts at well over 50% to attract and lure in new customers. We cling to the hope that these clients will return to us. The truth of it is these days’ women and men alike have lost the loyalty to their stylist. They instead opt to go to the ones who are offering the biggest discount, jumping from one salon to the next. Beauty is a business I love to be in and I find myself just waiting for things to turn for the better. There are no guarantees in this life, but one thing is for sure. I will not go down without a fight.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)