FINDING MY VOICE – PART ONE

Posted on June 17, 2010 by Judy

My old, classical guitar still has sand from the beach inside!

“My Life is a Musical”

My love affair with the guitar began when I was sixteen years old. It progressed to a point in college where I studied classical guitar. Although I avidly practiced, the technical requirements of a classical guitarist were far beyond my abilities. I reached my pinnacle at the age of 21 with mastery of the tremolo. Then I stopped playing and devoted myself to becoming an illustrator.

From the time I started playing my guitar until my wedding, I wrote approximately, thirty songs including several instrumental pieces. The last song I composed was for my own wedding. Perhaps since my 29th anniversary is in five days, I’ve recalled a flurry of hysterical memories from that time.

Currently, I have found my voice. For a very long time, I stuffed my feelings in order to please everyone around me. On rare occasions I spoke up.

One of those rare times when I spoke up was when I got married. I decided I wanted to compose a song to sing for my husband at our wedding. My mother was very, very upset about it. She couldn’t stand the idea. Because I was very close with my mom, it wasn’t easy to overrule her.

She said, “The bride does not play guitar at her wedding! What will all my friends all say?”

I was determined! I wrote a song that incorporated the translated, Jewish wedding blessings in order to please her. The name of my song was entitled, “Song of Joy.”

When I played the guitar at my wedding, it was actually quite painful. I grimaced while I was playing, and hit one huge, wrong note on a higher fret. I covered it up and sang my song with abandon.

There was a reason for my pain! The night before our wedding there certainly was a lot of drama. It began with the rehearsal dinner. We were on our way to a restaurant, and I met my husband’s brother for the first time. He has often reminded me of this memory, because it was quite traumatic for him also.

I was getting out of the car to go into the restaurant, and he closed the car door on my middle finger.

I yelled as the exquisite pain flooded me. I sat though the rehearsal dinner with my throbbing, finger in a cup of ice. My future brother-in-law told me he wanted to crawl under the table!

After the rehearsal dinner I came home, and I continued to soak my finger. It had already developed an ugly, black fingernail. All I could think about was whether I could manage to play my guitar. Of course, my mother was hoping I’d change my mind.

Suddenly, Michael and I heard horrible screams coming from the living room. Things were getting worse by the moment! We raced to the living room and my mother was screaming, “My breast! My breast!” Needless to say, you could only imagine what my future husband was thinking.

It turned out that while my mother was ironing her dress for the next day’s wedding, she had burned through her dress with the iron! She held it up to show us a four-inch hole on the breast.

Michael tried to calm her down. He suggested she could just pin her corsage over the area. My mother was still yelling hysterically. Her reason was that she had borrowed this dress, and she didn’t know what she was going to do about returning it to her friend with a hole.

She ended up pinning a corsage over the area. She had the dress repaired later on.

I played my song on our wedding day with a bandaged finger. One of my friends recently shared with me her memory of my performance. She said:

“I remember your beautiful song of love for your husband that you performed at the altar, the way old ladies sitting next to me clucked their tongues at the audacity of the song until they started bopping along with you by the third verse!”

One day, I’ll share that particular song. I hope to record all of my songs, as I improve and practice each and every one of them.

Truly, my life is a musical!

My color theme was "rainbow." How tacky!

My color theme was “rainbow.” How tacky!

“My journey is still unfolding”

I hope my parents live long enough to see me become successful in my new endeavors, wherever they might lead me. However, I’ve already given them a gift that is beyond anything they or I ever expected.

They lived long enough to see me joyful again!

I have children and understand what that means. I would think that any parent wants their child to enjoy life and have happiness. My parents have shared in my suffering. They’ve cried alongside of me. They watched their talented, little girl reduced to a sad shell for countless years. I had hollow smiles and infrequent laughter. I was empty inside.

Everything changed for me beginning in mid-February when I started writing and sharing. Currently, I’m filled with excitement, joy, and mostly, peace.

My journey has led me to the realization that I’ve found my voice. My new voice is connected to my heart, and even sounds different to me. I easily express honesty, and now I have a powerful sense of humor. When I’ve encountered stressful situations, sometimes I have to hold back my laughter!

When I began writing my blog, my mom had just been released from the hospital. I started playing my guitar again. I hadn’t played it seriously for thirty years.

After thirty years of not playing, it felt wonderful to pick up my guitar. A few years after I stopped playing, I invested in an expensive, steel-string guitar. I thought a new guitar would inspire me to rediscover playing again. Unfortunately, I hardly played it. It was very difficult to simply pick it up and play, since steel strings were painful to hold down without calluses. In these past few months, I have developed thick calluses once again.

When I began singing again with my guitar, I cringed at my voice!

I’ve never had an outstanding voice, even though I’ve loved expressing myself vocally. When I started playing again, I hated my “fifty-year-old voice.” I shared some songs from a thirty-year-old, cassette tape thinking that it was my younger, “better voice.”

Fortunately, I had a tape of most of my songs, which helped me rediscover how to play them. Of my thirty songs, I lost at least five of them because they were not recorded.

My younger son encouraged me to take voice lessons. His voice teacher at a public park was incredibly patient with him. I decided it might not be a bad idea and it was very affordable.

I began taking those voice lessons and quickly started learning. The day finally came where I could see that my new voice was considerably better than when I was twenty-years-old. The biggest change occurred two weeks ago when I finally lowered the keys for all my songs so I could sing them in a lower register.

I’m fairly embarrassed about my singing ability, and some of the recordings that I’ve shared on this blog. As an artist, I’ve always been a perfectionist. I have an excellent ear for music, and whenever I hear notes that are “pitchy” or shrill it kills me!

I’ve thought about deleting those old recordings. However, I’ve decided that my blog is a testament to the power of honesty and opening up. It’s also about taking chances. My songs may never go anywhere, however, if I weren’t sharing them I’d never find out.

I want my blog to document an honest journey. My journey of releasing trauma has unfolded in “real time” and is still unfolding for me.

My story is also a fairytale. It is about how my life completely turned around within a few months.

My performance workshop last Sunday. I asked a wonderful performer to use my cellphone to take a picture for me.

I’m in my musical reverie.

“I am a bereaved parent”

I was courageous this past Monday. I played a new, lower version of my song, “Beside Me Always.” I had only created the acoustic, instrumental accompaniment two days earlier.

I originally wrote this song after breaking up with a boyfriend when I was 17. However, I rewrote the lyrics after my 5-year-old son died. The song’s meaning completely changed for me after that.

Many years ago, I was a leader and very involved with the Compassionate Friends; an organization for bereaved parents and siblings. I performed my song at the annual, candle-lighting ceremony until I made the decision to focus on my living children. It was always very meaningful for me. I can picture our group of bereaved parents gathered in a tightly, embraced circle outside under the stars. Their candles flickered in the darkness, while I sang and poured my heart out.

I sang this song at a good friend’s funeral also.

I have sung this song for such a long time in the higher key. When I transposed it so I could sing it in a lower voice, the character of the chords changed. The song musically and lyrically joined, and became a sincere expression of loss and heartache for me.

While playing the introduction in my bathroom a few days ago, I began heaving with sobs as I was moved by the beautiful, haunting chords.

When I arrived at Kulak’s to play, my heart warmed with delight at seeing my childhood friend, Joni. She had come there to see me play! Joni was my neighbor while growing up and we’ve known each other since we were toddlers. Her teenage daughter accompanied her. Looking at her daughter, I remembered how Joni looked similarly when she was that age.

I savored the experience of having my good friend there. The time arrived for the show to begin. The room became hushed as names were called.

My name was the first one called!

As I walked up to play, I was told that one of the hostesses would go first. I fumbled with my cell phone and quickly sent off five, prepared text messages to forty of my friends; my message would alert them that I was due to play soon.

The hostess began the show. She was beautiful and had a fabulous voice; I hoped I could do justice to my song with my limited, vocal ability.

I decided to sit and play this time, rather than perform standing as I had the week before. I didn’t want to make any mistakes playing the chords, so I even brought along my classical guitar footstool to have a better sitting position.

I’ve attended Kulak’s performance workshop twice, and was told never to introduce a song by talking about it. The song should always speak for itself. Any statements are supposed to allow the audience to connect and remember only the performer.

I was introduced, and my heart was pounding. The host asked me if I had any “upcoming gigs.” I quickly replied with, “Someday, I’m hoping!” I also mentioned how I was “loving life.” I carefully positioned my hands to begin the song.

I softly said, “I am a bereaved parent, but this song could be for anybody that has lost someone.” Instantly, the room became hushed.

As usual, I was shaky at first but smoothed out as the song progressed. I savored the experience as I played for an audience of perhaps thirty other songwriters.

I left Kulak’s early and walked toward my car in the beautiful, cool night air. A young man stopped me. He wanted to tell me something. I thanked him for his kind compliments. I sat in my car for a few moments allowing the impact of his words to sink in.

He had said, “Your song was the most beautiful song I have ever heard played at Kulak’s.”

I drove home lost in my musical reverie.

Playing with Jason on his 5th and last birthday. He died five months later.

AUDIO FILES TO SHARE:

I received a DVD of my very first web-cast performance at Kulak’s Woodshed. I sang Beside Me Always in the higher key. I’ve had so much criticism of my higher singing voice that I’ve decided not to share it.

The following week, I performed another song, You Are My Wings. I love the infectious, joyful melody and feeling of that song. I looked very happy while playing; however, my performance was also too high and pitchy. I might still share it someday.

I’ll receive a DVD of this past week’s performance next week. If I perform this Monday, I was told how much better it would be to have more makeup on. Okay, okay! I’ll do it!

This past Monday, I brought a digital recorder along and recorded audio of my performance. I could have definitely sounded better. Only hours earlier I had a wonderful, voice lesson. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember all the melodic enhancements that my teacher, Peaches, had suggested.

Below are excerpts from my voice lesson with Peaches:

#1 LESSON EXCERPT WITH PEACHES 6/14/10

#2 LESSON EXCERPT WITH PEACHES 6/14/10

#3 LESSON EXCERPT WITH PEACHES 6/14/10

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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I ALWAYS WANTED TO FLY

Posted on June 13, 2010 by Judy

I close my eyes, and I’m in that picture again.

Link for lyrics, recordings and other stories: YOU ARE MY WINGS

Perhaps it was hypnotherapy that allowed me to release my trauma. My hypnotherapist, Connie, encouraged me to write and that has freed me. So much energy was required to stuff those painful memories away.

In these past few months, I’ve learned a great deal about how to take care of myself after so many years of caregiving. I am truly a different person. I will never go back to the way I was.

I will always be a bereaved parent. Certainly many things continue to come up for me with my children and their challenges. The same goes for my elderly parents that rely on me. I’m still married, although I know I don’t write much about my husband.

I am just so much happier right now. I have gotten much younger in a very short amount of time. My identity has completely changed. I love the idea that I can be not only an artist, but also a musician and a writer! Most of all, I revel in simply being an improved, human being.

Occasionally I have financial worries, however, I’ve made the decision that enjoying my life right now includes spending money on the things I didn’t do for thirty years. If it means I might have to sacrifice other things, I’ve accepted that. I will never go back to the way I was.

In my writing, I share what I have learned and what I am still learning. My life happens to be very exciting right now. It is that way because I made decisions to pursue things that have brought me this excitement.

I’m not sure if I’ll write any more essays about grief, my children, or my elderly parents. I’m just going to write about anything that hits me! Right now, I am captivated by music, and my heart is singing.

If I end up having a hit song, then I’ll definitely have a great story to write for my book. But even if that doesn’t happen, my journey has been wonderful.

On Sunday night, I decided to attend a performance workshop. It was held at Kulak’s Woodshed where I was planning to perform the following night. When it was my turn, I played only the chorus to my song. The instructor told me to stop, because he said I was singing my song way too high.

He wanted to hear how it would sound lower. I fumbled with the chords, but managed to transpose my song into a significantly lower key. After singing two lines the unanimous response was, “Much, much better!”

I came home that night, and was up in my bathroom until 1 a.m. finalizing an entire new chord structure for my song. I wanted to be certain I’d be polished enough to perform it for the open mic the next day.

I had a voice lesson with Peaches a few hours before my performance. Peaches is my vocal instructor. I demonstrated my lower version for her. She had no opinion about what was better for me. She told me she wanted me to have the proper technique and tools so I could sing my songs in any key.

I am sharing an audio part of my lesson again, because my singing improvement has been inspirational for me. Now when I hear my older versions of my songs from thirty years ago, I am pleased to know that I sound much better. I didn’t used to feel that way.

My youngest son told me, “Mom, now you won’t sound like a teakettle!”

I wasn’t a great singer when I was younger. I thought at fifty, I was way too old to improve my singing. Unfortunately, this change will require redoing my recordings with George in a lower key. I’m planning to record You Are My Wings again; even lower than my recent performance. I wasn’t comfortable performing it as low as I might have.

I am fine with starting over! As an artist, I have learned how important it is to experiment in order to achieve the best results.

When I performed last night, I did make a few minor guitar chord errors. It was understandable since I had only changed my key the night before. It took a lot of courage. Listening to my audio recording, I learned that I have to be careful when singing out not to get too close to the microphone. My nervousness also translated into playing the song at a much faster tempo. When I sang, “I’m in love,” the note almost didn’t come out!

I can easily comprehend a continuing lesson for me, which is: there is no perfection in this world. I can share my music knowing I am improving and it will only get better!

MY LESSON WITH PEACHES 6-8-10 

My passion for music could have me writing endless details about that journey alone. My heart is singing and it feels like I’m flying these days.

As I have been healing, I’ve become more and more musical. There even seems to be the possibility that I might write a brand new song. I have not written a song for thirty years, although I have revised my songs. My last song was written for my own wedding. Eventually, I hope to record that special song and share it.

A picture from when I was thin. It was a long time ago, but I see myself being that way in the not so distant future.

I was a serious songwriter! I typed this page of rhymes and ten more just like it!

I have been practicing my songs in lower keys, and it’s been exciting and challenging to find new, chord structures. My playing has become smoother and my voice has begun to change.

My goal is to share all of my recordings in one place when I have a few, satisfactory ones. Right now, my songs are scattered throughout the blog as a testament to my improvement. I want only my best recordings to be part of an audio page.

I have no illusions that I have a “great voice.” I’ve thought of deleting my earlier, embarrassing singing attempts. I have even wondered how I had the nerve to share some of my thirty-year-old recordings. However, I’ve decided to leave them there. I am very human and completely unashamed that I’ve “put myself out there.”

I’m certain my noticeable improvement will continue. It has been inspirational to know that at the age of fifty I was capable of this!

My age is now much younger. I might be fifty, but I really do feel as if I’m eighteen again. Singing a love song feels wonderful and real for me. My husband is a little perplexed and confused to see me this way. I have not bridged our distance. Our marriage survived the death of our son, as well as dealing with our children and their challenges. Most marriages do not survive these things. I know because I’ve watched so many other couples break apart.

I realize survival is not always enough. I still love my husband and I am hopeful that our distance will be bridged. I’m just not ready to make the effort yet. I don’t want to face the disappointment of unfulfilled expectations. I’ve been getting along with my husband much better since I’ve started voicing my feelings when I’m upset.

Bye, bye, “ouchie shield!”

I am a happier person, and happier people have better marriages. That can certainly be true for me!

Yesterday, I recorded another version of my original song, “You Are My Wings.”

I loved it in the higher key, but now I realize how much better it is for my voice in a lower key. I plan to concentrate on learning more stylistic phrasing. I appreciated the lower range because there was so much less pressure on me. I didn’t have to worry about my voice breaking up on those higher notes.

Singing lower is a perfect analogy for my life! I was singing a certain way for a very, long time. I wasn’t open to changing anything! I had reasons and excuses not to change, and it was mostly because I was comfortable doing it the same way. It seemed impossible to consider changing my voice; even though I had been told many times that I should sing lower.

It all changed after I attended a performing workshop in order to improve.

Just as I have with about everything else in my life, I decided to make this change. Doing something different has opened up my world in every way. I’m certain that is why I’m losing weight without focusing on even “dieting.”

The sensation of singing today in George’s recording studio was truly blissful. Singing is such an intimate form of communication. Unlike writing, it is immediate. I liken it to kissing. I am sharing my breath, my mouth, my heart, and my soul as I sing. Through singing, I am able to fully express my feelings as the music causes an intense connection with my heart.

I did not make the same mistake I did last week with my voice. On my way to my recording session last week, I had a twenty-minute phone chat with my mother while in my car. I was shouting to her because she had trouble hearing me while I was using my Bluetooth. I walked in hoarse before I even started singing.

Yesterday, I was totally relaxed and warmed up. I was ready! I had bought a metronome and worked on practicing to a click track. George recorded me as I played my guitar with feeling, instead of marching along as I had before.

After the guitar was recorded, I put on the headphones to record the vocal track. I savored the experience. It has dawned on me that it’s not about the quality of my singing voice, so much as my intensity of expression.

Once I was finished, I collapsed in a chair. George was now ready to go to work on the arrangement. I told him, “I loved your other version; just replicate it in this lower key.”

He shook his head and said, “Judy darling, it’s a different song now. I don’t hear it in the same way. Right now it’s a pop song – I hear piano, harp, and drums. Let me do my thing!”

I let him do his thing. He added strings, drums, piano, bass, and harps. Soon our time was running out, and I wanted him to fix some of the vocal imperfections. There were only a few spots. We decided we could work on it more the following week.

I came home and listened to the recording many times. My vocals and the guitar track were completely overwhelmed by his production. I’ve decided I’ll ask him to change the balance next week. Some of the harp noises were distracting. He might be an arranger, but the song is mine and I want the recording to be pleasing for me. I love my life right now!

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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SCALES IN MY LIFE

Posted on June 10, 2010 by Judy

My drawing on the cover of a creative writing journal called the Gnome in Junior High.

I am captivated by music at every waking moment. I hear new lyrics, bridges and riffs for some of my songs. I am listening to my recordings and striving to improve my singing throughout the day. My lower voice has become a huge improvement, and that has freed me. Changing the chord structure to my song ended up becoming more exciting and beautiful.

When I wear my new clothes on my new body, I feel like I’m bursting with joy.

I am erasing my doubts with the realization that aside from an illness, nothing is going to stop me from my creative pursuits at this time in my life. I will totally make sacrifices to allow myself to continue this renaissance I’m having.

I love writing for my blog. When I am writing, I feel like I am with a close friend. It soothes the ache in my soul. Recently, music has been soothing me too. I can actually feel the ache physically, and as I play music or write, it ebbs away.

Sharing has helped me. Just as I am a transparent watercolorist, and a transparent singer, I have become a transparent writer. There are very few secrets. As I have released my trauma through writing, many more things have come up for me. The whole process has me filled with wonder and amazement.

Here I am on the right with my cousins. Why am I doing that? I didn’t have a lot on my shoulders back then. I know! It’s because I HATED BEING DRESSED UP!

My sketch for a biology class assignment when i was 16.

I loved to climb!

I Remember Lizzie

I love my title for this post. Scales refers to many aspects of my life. There are music scales, scales for weighing, and lizard scales. The part about lizards goes right to embarrassing information that no one in this world would ever imagine I would share about myself.

I grew up with a fascination for living creatures. There was a time when I seriously considered being a biologist. In high school, I loved illustrating my biology class notes. It was no accident that I was fascinated; it started when I was very young.

I wrote somewhere earlier on, about the fact that I was a grasshopper torturer. It wasn’t on purpose; I just used to enjoy playing with them. And then their pesky legs would fall off!

I did learn not to handle one of those fuzzy bumblebees. One time, I found a disabled one that was lumbering along the ground; it was so cute. When it stung me I had to kill it!

One of my illustrations of a honey bee.

As I got older, I began to become very attached to praying mantises. I loved watching them catch their prey. I would keep my little mantis pets in a clear shoebox, and search to find prey for them to feed on. I would watch them tear the wings off the fly they were eating; it was such a methodical ritual and it was my entertainment.

The most fascinating creature for me was the garden spider. Their webs were truly fantastic! I would marvel in amazement at the work of the spiders in our garden. I was already very adept at catching flies with a little medicine bottle. I used the same technique to catch them for my praying mantis pets. Once I captured the fly, I would shake the bottle. The poor fly would still be alive, but quite stunned. I would dump that fly into the spider’s web and the spider would go to work. Within seconds the fly was mummified in a web casing and its insides were sucked out!

I never got tired of watching these true-to-life, nature shows. I have to admit; one time I wondered which insect would win; the mantis or the spider. I put the mantis in the spider web to see what would happen.

I was a serial insect murderer – I confess! I don’t remember exactly who won that battle, but I think it was the spider.

When parents say their kids are in trouble using the web, well that applied to me way back then! I don’t have to put a “spin” on this story.

I can hardly believe this memory; I had a boyfriend in high school that was willing to go and catch spiders with me. We climbed through a miniature golf course at night and brought home at least twenty, huge spiders. I can’t believe I did something that outrageous on a date.

I am still captivated by living creatures and often stop to examine the intricacy of a spider’s web. I loved illustrating butterflies from actual specimens, and am planning to write more about that story.

Searching out living creatures caused me to wander and explore. Because of this, I gave my parents a lot of fright and worry while growing up. I used to swim so far out in the ocean, that my mother would send a lifeguard out to get me. I was an adventurer and loving climbing hills and hiking off into danger. My neighbor and good friend, Joni, often joined me on my adventures.

Climbing with my friend Joni.

Once, when Joni was attending a day camp with me, I told her we should go on an exploration hike. Unfortunately, no one knew where we had gone. When we returned both of us were in a lot of trouble!

Now is the time to mention the other kind of scales in my life; they are the kind that are on lizards! I was a lizard lover. I had a turtle and a tortoise – but lizards were my absolute favorite, reptilian pets. It all started with “Lizzie.”

Our family often went on outings to Griffith Park, and my mother and father would be yelling at me to come back when I was off climbing. I found Lizzie on an outing at Griffith Park.

I saw this huge lizard on a rock up the hill. I made a beeline for him. He was large and slow; I quickly had him in my hand. I brought him with me to our car, because we were leaving to go home. My father looked at the lizard, and told me to let him go. I begged my father to let me keep him, and my older brother convinced my dad.

My father found a shoebox in the trunk of the car, and asked me to hand him the lizard. Suddenly, my dad let out this huge yell and dropped Lizzie. The lizard bit my father’s hand and he was bleeding! I bent down and picked him up – he was one slow lizard! He never bit anyone again after that.

This isn’t Lizzie. It’s another Alligator Lizard that looks like Lizzie.

Lizzie turned out to be an Alligator Lizard; he grew to be about a foot long. I went to a pet shop and bought mealworms for him to eat. I would open his mouth, put a worm in it, and then close it for him until he swallowed. I didn’t catch any bugs for him.

Two years later, Lizzie was dead. It was the day after I practiced having him swim in our bathroom sink. I wondered if I caused his death. In order to help me feel better, my mother allowed me to buy more lizards.

This time I chose chameleons. I had several. One time, I forgot they were in my lap, and they fell to the carpet when I got up. When I saw our dog playing catch with the dead lizards – I was heartbroken. It was almost as bad as when an entire tank full of baby guppies died; I cried for days.

I expanded my family of lizards and bought a few other varieties. I ended up having five lizards. These lizards didn’t like mealworms, so I began catching flies again. I was already such an expert.

Every day after school, I would go around to the best places where I knew I’d find flies. It might be a certain fence. Sometimes, it even included being near trash cans. My mother never wondered how I contracted impetigo (a skin infection) when I was young.

One time, I remember a lady coming out of her home and asking me what I was doing prowling near her window. I told her, “I’m looking for flies to feed my lizards, and there was one right near this bush! Sorry to have disturbed you.”

When I would read books, I’d have a lizard resting on my chest. Sometimes they would even crawl into my shirt.

The day came when my lizard loving came to an end. It was rather abrupt. I told my mother that I had a pain in my breast. She immediately took me to the pediatrician. I was fourteen years old. The appointment progressed rather quickly. The doctor felt a large lump, and he called in a surgeon to check me. It was determined that there was an infected area that had to be lanced. It was very painful.

The doctor and my mother were conferring as to how I developed this condition. I mentioned how my lizards sometimes were in that area. Well that was it; my mother went ballistic.

“NO MORE LIZARDS!”

We drove to a vacant lot, and I said goodbye to my five lizards. It was time. I watched them scurry off and I was free from the constraints of fly-catching every day after school.

I can hardly believe that I did these things. As an adult, I did catch flies to help my children when they brought a live, praying mantis to their elementary school class for a feeding demonstration. My boys felt very important showing off; all the girls would be screaming as the fly was chewed up.

One time after playing tennis near the hills, I came across a garden snake near my car. I picked it up to show the other ladies, but they all ran to their cars. At that moment I represented insanity. One lady said, “How do you know it’s not a rattlesnake?”

She had a point. It could have been a baby rattler without a rattle. I decided I’d better not do that again!

When I see a lizard zip by me sometimes, I’m amazed that I was ever able to catch one. A few years ago, I did catch one that was slow to show my kids when we were at a softball field. My youngest son begged me to let him keep that lizard. I told him, “No way! You could contract a disease!” We let it go before going home.

I have truly become stricter than my own mother! That hasn’t translated to other areas, however.

At age five I was climbing, and here I am monkeying around again!

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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MY REFLECTIONS ON BEAUTY

Posted on June 8, 2010 by Judy

“A beautiful story”

I have decided to write about my feelings surrounding beauty. I have mentioned I was a tomboy growing up. I was teased a lot. I have a picture below of myself wearing the shoes I hated the most: saddle shoes! I still have trouble finding shoes I can deal with: I wear a size 13 women’s shoe.

I hated those saddle shoes!

When I was in the 8th grade, I remember my older brother allowing me to use his electric shaver to take off my armpit hair. My parents were surprised that I asked my brother. I don’t think they realized how much taunting I endured.

On top of that, it wasn’t until college that I started shaving my legs. I remember asking my friend, Cheryl, her opinion. I told her I thought my lighter, leg hairs didn’t show that much. She said to me, “Shave your legs!”

I married someone who hates makeup, so that has worked out really well for me. Whenever I have makeup on my husband says, “Take that off, already.” He hates perfume, too.

In high school, my idea of sprucing up my beauty was to buy baby’s breath at a florist shop and stick it in my hair. I love that picture where I’m looking up with a flower in my hair.

Unfortunately, being a beautiful woman when you’re older (or younger) requires an investment of time. Coloring my hair has been a major pain; I am fortunate that I have someone who comes to my home to do that for me. She’s a wonderful stylist and my friend.

I go crazy when I see my annoying, gray roots. I have two kinds of hair color: Dark when it’s first done, and orange after I’ve washed it for a few weeks. When someone says to me, “You’re going blond,” I realize it’s time to color my hair. Swimming also does considerable damage to my hair. I won’t go into sun damage to my skin from all those days at the beach.

Someday, I hope to be courageous and just let it be gray!

Lately, I feel young again. I’ve started wearing a little perfume oil like I used to before I got married. I love the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle. I need to be more careful because only a few days ago I accidentally spilled the entire bottle on my blouse.

I’ve been a nail biter all my life. When I was a classical guitarist in college, I did grow my nails to play. However, it didn’t last. Now I use a thumb pick.

I think my nails are about as low as they can get. Sometimes, they bleed when I bite them!

Yesterday, I was very excited to wear my new skinny jeans and sandals for my open mic performance. When I realized that my toenails would show. I surprised myself by driving to a nail salon for a pedicure. It would be the fourth one I’ve ever had in my life. I decided to get a manicure, too.

My husband had longer nails than I did!

My last manicure was for my wedding. I don’t even know why I bothered getting a manicure for my wedding. The wedding picture with my hands is still not flattering! By the way, my 29th wedding anniversary is coming up this month.

Yesterday, the manicurist had trouble finding any fingernails to even work with. Pushing back the cuticles did help. I chose a clear, sparkly polish. I kept thinking, would this manicure stop me from biting them?

Stay tuned. I’m a new person, so maybe this will go along with that.

My mother always encouraged me to wear makeup; she would enroll me in classes where there were tons of samples. I had my makeup done at Merle Norman’s for my wedding, and sometimes I still use that same blush. It is almost 30 years old!

Last night, I decided I wanted to look pretty for my performance. I decided to wear makeup! My mom would have been proud of me for rediscovering my femininity. When I left to perform, I felt wonderful. I was a new woman.

Unfortunately, within half an hour most of my makeup was gone. I never keep lipstick on because I do too much lip smacking.

I even put on mascara! I have trouble with those clumps on my eyelashes. When my daughter told me I had black smudges on my upper cheeks, I was a little worried. It was definitely a problem – my eyelashes hit my cheeks when I smile.

I noticed some dark circles under my eyes, because I only get about six hours of sleep every night. I tried to cover those. At least my lack of sleep these days has been due to enjoying what I’m doing versus having demanding children waking me up.

Because I’m so open, I am going to share something rather personal. It is now absolutely hysterical for me, and I have difficulty writing about it because I’m laughing so hard.

When I was in the sixth grade, my mother also enrolled me in “Charm School.”

Charm School in itself was not memorable for me; I wouldn’t say it made me any more “charming.” Just those words alone, have me thinking that it would be a perfect school name for kids with Asperger Syndrome!

The incident I’m about to describe was actually quite traumatic, because I was teased mercilessly afterwards. This charm school had a final performance where students were supposed to demonstrate what they had learned. I’ll never forget the “catwalk” part of our performance.

I was taught to have excellent posture while walking on the catwalk; it was important to carry an image of having a basket on my head. At the end of the walkway, there was a certain pivot step and then I would turn and walk back. The last move was a curtsey.

When it was my turn to walk, I was very concentrated on my routine. And then something horrible happened. I accidentally farted out loud. It was shocking and I don’t think there will ever be any experience in my entire life as embarrassing as this was. Approximately fifty people witnessed my toots.

For the rest of my junior high years, there were two, certain kids who followed me around and shared my embarrassing plight with everyone who would listen. I was constantly taunted me with, “Hey, you charm girl! You farted out loud during your charm school routine!”

Now everyone knows how human I am.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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