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January 18, 2013| The Magazine |
|Features|
S
omeone asked me if I would con-
sider getting myself a real job. Now
why would I do that when there are
so many benefits to freelance writing? So
what if money isn’t one of them?
One of the biggest advantages to being
a writer is it’s the easiest and most econom-
ical way to get into the wallpaper business.
Whenever I get a rejection letter, I stick it
on the wall. I’ve been marvelously success-
ful. Every week, more and more editors work
for my wallpaper factory without pay. What
could be easier and more economical than
that? Last week, I submitted my brilliant
wallpaper business idea to the editors of an
entrepreneur magazine. Now they work for
my wallpaper company.
The other day I was at the library read-
ing a book about writing. The book said
writers are sick and tired of people ask-
ing them where they get their ideas. I was
quite surprised to read this, as coming up
with ideas has always been one of the hard-
est things for me. Imagine my astonish-
ment when I read that some writers who
are sick of this question, like to tell people
they get their ideas from the Idea Center in
Schenectady! So THAT’S where writers get
their ideas! Why didn’t anybody tell me??
I slammed the book shut, dashed out
the library, and raced all the way home to
call that center.
Just my luck, the lady at Information
said she couldn’t find that listing. Talking
to the manager was no help either. When I
tried to explain to him that this is a famous
place where writers get their ideas, he re-
fused to give me the phone number! All he
would do is keep telling me I don’t need any
idea center because I would do great as a
humor columnist.
So now I know how all those writers get
their articles published, when all I get is
wallpaper contributions. It’s because THEY
sit with their feet up, getting their articles
from that place in Schenectady! Is it fair that
I should have to work so hard just because of
those incompetent bozos at Information?
My office isn’t very fancy. It’s about six
and a half by two and a half feet. Okay, so
it’s our living room couch. The office (read
“couch”) has three sections. I mean pil-
lows. One section (read “pillow”) is where
I sit, with a torn hard cover from a book as
my writing surface, on my lap, scribbling my
drafts. The other two sections (read “pil-
lows”) are piled with blank papers, an as-
sortment of pens, and a piled high to the
ceiling stack of article drafts in various
stages. Yesterday, a lady dropped by and
I could see how she was looking at that
couch (read “office”) scornfully. I guess
some people don’t know a genius at work
when they see one. Poor thing. She didn’t
even ask for my autograph. This freelance
writing is really something. No money and
no respect!
The reading public probably thinks
this is a humor article. I know my fellow
freelance writers are wondering what’s so
funny. I’ll see you guys at the next writer’s
support-group meeting.
Hey, anybody care to buy some wallpa-
per?
Henia is a freelance writer. This is
her first humor article. She can be
contacted at Heniar@ymail.com
Oh, The Joy Of Freelance Writing!
By Henia
I Want A Makeover
By Susan Schwartz
I
want a Makeover. You know – the kind
where someone takes you by the hand,
and gives you a complete head to toe
redo. In forty years I have yet to find a shei-
tel that I really like, be it a cheap synthetic
or more expensive European hair. I want
someone to wave a magic wand, sit me in a
chair, look me over and say, THIS is the one
for you. Then she will put in on my head,
snip here and there and voila, the perfect
style to frame my face (glasses and all).
Then I will be whisked to the makeup
counter – a little eye shadow, some mascara
and the perfect lip color to make me look
great but completely not made up!
And who can forget clothes on this fan-
tasy trip. My personal shopper will of course
find the perfect clothes for my (slightly)
frumpy body. Not extreme, not even ex-
pensive, just ones that when I put them on
make me feel totally put together, profes-
sional and perhaps even sophisticated.
No one would ever accuse me of being
fashion forward. Since I was a teenager I
was relegated to wearing “sensible shoes”
because of a variety of foot problems. I
could no more wear a heel higher than
1.5 inches than climb a mountain. So of
course I need the perfect shoe that elon-
gates my leg without crippling me at the
same time.
And sheitels? Over the years I have flit-
ted from sheitel macher to sheitel macher;
sales and bargains. I have tried long and
short, curly and straight. I think the shei-
tel machers have a magic mirror. Whatever
looks perfect in their chair somehow looks
all wrong when I am home if front of my
mirror. And looking at pictures in albums
over the years will bear me out; what was I
thinking wearing some of those?!
So what’s stopping me? I can easily go
to any department store makeup counter
and have them give me a complimentary
makeover. And over the years I have even
done it once or twice. But by the next day
(even if I have bought the products out of
guilt for having taken their time) all the
brushes and blushes find their way into a
container on my dresser, never again to see
the light of day.
The problem is I am conflicted. If some-
body makes me over, what if I like the new
me better than the old me? How do I know
which one is the REAL me?
The old me is comfortable. No matter
how many black skirts I have in the closet,
there is always that one (or maybe two) I
reach for every day. It might be the one
with the elastic waist (so forgiving), or the
one that feels “just right” when I put it on.
Of course it is so well-worn it is beginning
to look like a shmatte, but I convince myself
it is black (hence slimming and forgiving of
all mistakes) and besides isn’t there some
adage about how feeling good makes you
look good?
The old me puts on a sheitel, runs a
brush through it and hopes for the best.
A slight dash of lip gloss (how come after
I find a color that I think looks decent, no
store carries that brand or color anymore?)
and I am on my way.
I used to think the minimalist look was
more than enough.
There is nothing wrong with the “old”
me except that I look like an “old” me.
Apparently women in their 20s and 30s can
get away with the minimalist look that I
espouse. But as one approaches the second
half of middle age (that means over 50!) it
seems one needs a little help to “put your
best face forward.”
But I am afraid of change. When I put
on makeup or a fancier sheitel I don’t recog-
nize myself in the mirror. I am looking for
the old, Bubbie me, not the pretend some-
one else me. If I decided to dress that way
every day I would just be playing some sort
of role. But if I never try to change, then
I guess I can’t complain about the old me
shuffling along each day.
So the next Chinese raffle that offers
a new custom sheitel will have me putting
in a ticket. If I win, I am hoping the sheitel
macher is going to tell me just what I need
to create the perfect new Me.
Until then, I am sticking with my comfy
black skirt, out of date lip gloss and sen-
sible shoes!