A figure skater? Sure. It'd make all those cold winter mornings at the Ohio State University ice rink worth it. A super model like Brooke Shields? Dreamt about it since I was five. But since I only made it to five feet tall, that dream poofed too. Over the years I considered numerous careers: interior design, nursing, teaching, social work and law. But Rock Star? Never.
Yet what did I become this past weekend? Right. A Rock Star.
Okay okay, a Benefit Cosmetics Rock Star. If you don't believe me, jet to San Francisco and ask Ari. Or down to Charlotte and ask Cindi, my Superstar BeneTrainer. She's the one who took me from Benebabe (a girl totally addicted to Benefit cosmetics) to Benefit Make Up Artist.
I rocked the house. Er, well, it was the Southern Living Women's Show.
I owe it to my strategic training diet of chocolate Poptarts, chocolate covered raisins and (chocolate coated) York Peppermint Patties that gave me that extra edge over the other freelance makeup artists.
Or maybe it was because when I had a gal in my chair, I could revert to whomever they needed me to be. You want the finger waggin', "I'm tellin' you, GIRLFRIEND!" I was, like, all over that! Then again, maybe it was seeing each girl and woman as the incredible female she was, and not just a sale.
You know, like a hairdresser. You sit in the chair, she snaps your smock and you spill your life story:
The same makeup routine for 30…no, make that 35, years.
The new boyfriend.
The stem cell replacement therapy you had last year.
The cancer survivors.
"Can you cover this scar on my neck? It's been operated on twice this year and I hate it."
The woman covering her gorgeous face behind a ½-inch of cakey foundation and harsh eyebrows. Oh, and she has two autoimmune diseases that flush her cheeks beautifully. Sans makeup.
The April Bride and Mother of the Bride.
The third-shift poultry plant worker from a small town 2 hours away sitting next to the woman with enough diamonds on one hand alone to fund an entire Third World country.
It gave me great joy to see a woman leave my chair, not just looking fresher than when she sat down, but happier. To have her mom or daughter or best friend turn and around and mouth, "Thank You." To get a hug of gratitude or hear, "I fee like I've known you all my life."
And beyond the women in my chair? My incredible coworkers. We begged, borrowed and "stole" makeup, brushes, and breath mints from each other. Cat fights? Not a one. Sharing encouragement, contact info and camaraderie? You bet.
Dancing? Laughing? Hugging? Singing? Whooping it up? Constantly.
My four days as a Rock Star? A blast. But I'm going back to my Bus Stop Mommies…. I need a nap.
