I’ve never heard anyone say “I feel so pretty when I’m grieving…the ruined mascara, the bloodshot eyes, the drippy nose. Let me kiss the mirror. I am one hot mama.” Truth is, grief makes us feel ugly. We turn the lights out and it looks like the walls are frowning. We feel heavy and empty so we scrunch under the blankets and retreat to our sad place. When we lie in bed and cry for three day straight, we don’t wake up with that sexy bed-head hair; no, our hair gets tangled and matted, sadness in every curl. Once when I was sick, Daddy told me that I would feel better if I put on some clothes, brushed my teeth and combed my hair. This was a long time ago. I can’t remember if I took his advice but I wonder if he thought it would make him feel better if I freshened up. At least he wouldn’t have to look at me looking a mess. Does it work this way when we’re in a grief-funk? Is a toothbrush and comb the cure? Is relief just a smudge of lipgloss away? Probably not but wouldn’t it be nice if we could just wave the magic wand of masara and poof the hurt’s all gone? A bit of blush and we’d be grinning all the way to work and back. A flaming red scarf to yank those last two tears off our cheeks. Pumps to pump us up. Lots of folks seem to think that prettying the outside can change the inside but if that were true none of the stars would ever be sad. All any of us would need to heal is the right eye shadow, a good pedicure, a smoothe foundation to cover the pain.        
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