As a peer out into my mid-30's, I'm pondering the various paths to beauty that have been trailblazed by those who've come before me. (Please Note: At 33, I don't think I'm old...so don't get all irate if you don't think that's old. If you do think I'm over the hill, that's fine, I probably am).

On one side, there's the High Maintenance Botox Road (which I know of only in theory because I'm not so scrutinizing that I can even tell when a woman has received this treatment) which I characterize by the willingness to put lots of money and time into holding up someone's idea of a beauty standard. I do identify a class of women who don't look wrinkled, but who don't look young either, and I can only assume that they have had "work" done. ("High Maintenance" also brings to mind big purses.... I went shopping for a purse a few weeks ago and it was like being in an SUV lot of hand bags...they were HUGE, with lots of pockets). On the other side of the spectrum there's the Au Natural Road, which just says "f--- it" and kind of surrenders the whole idea of desirability and attractiveness. I have always shunned this path and judged these women as lazy and difficult. I think they terrified me with their utter lack of regard for the mandates of this super-model culture. But lately I've been contemplating this path (although please don't hold me to it because I know that the pressure in this youth-oriented super-model culture can be soul-crushing and I don't blame any woman for going to great lengths to preserve her looks).

It's not that I don't care what I look like, but the little I do to achieve some semblance of glamour is just getting to feel like too much of a damn chore already. Eyebrows, hair, nails...if this gets worse, if aging means that I start piling on more stuff (skin abrasian treatments, botox, etc.), I'm going to need a full day out of every week just for beauty maitenance (not to mention an extra $20,000 a year).

It all looked good on Carrie Bradshaw (the hair, the clothes, the great body), but she had Pat Field dressing her up and a team of make-up and hair people, and a personal trainer.

I know there's a middle-ground somewhere. A way of living that embraces my natural beauty, my inner beauty, and makes room for a little help from my friends at the Prescriptives counter (I am, by the way, going to a Mary Kay gathering this weekend...I like the Pink Cadillac). I just don't know what it is.

Just for today, I can analyze the cost of beauty in this scary world.

My mom and I happily joined the masses who clogged up good sidewalk space just for the chance to be awed by such things as the Apple store and H & M [What? You mean you haven't heard of H & M?...Actually, I hadn't either, until yesterday at Thanksgiving when my aunt told me about it and then earlier today when my Happily Married Friend (at least somebody's happy) mentioned it AGAIN. I took it as a sign from God...]. Anyway, we waited in line to discover the splendor of outsourcing at this marvel of low cost and high fashion, H & M, and I came away with two sexy bras (you know you've reached a milestone when your madre is buying you sexy underwear. Either she really loves me, or it's her way of saying "I'm willing to do anything for grandchildren..."). The point is we've all succumbed to a retailer's wet dream on Black Friday (so called because it's when the stores go from the red to the black...).

Just for today, I am a thriving American consumer.

In a world of change, it's nice to know that I can rely upon my family to provide me with some semblance of stability. On any given Thanksgiving (including today), I can expect the following to happen:

1) Either marshmellow fruit salad will be served (sometimes it's green jello mixed with cool whip and cottage cheese).
2) The wine will flow like the Nile river (which does flow...right?)
3) I will be asked some version of the question, "Why are you not married?" Sometimes it will be "What happened to so n' so?" or "Do you still like your apartment?" Other times, it will simply be, "Why are you not married?"
4) My mom and aunts will migrate to another room and tell stories about their childhoods in Arvin, California that will erupt in explosive laughter.
5) My uncle will tell them to quiet it down and then make a comment about how my mom and two aunts can generate the cacophany and volume of fifty people, while he cranks up the sound of the football game.
6) After finishing his black coffee said uncle will suddenly announce, "We're going!" at which point my aunt will protest (along with everyone else) in a futile attempt to change his mind.

Just for today, I am grateful to spend Thanksgiving with my family.

Whenever my mom senses any doubt in me she launches into a story about the time she went to parent-teacher conference night when I was in the 9th grade and my high school Spanish teacher told her that I was "special." I can't help but wonder how many parents he must have thrown that line at, and if they are still repeating that infamous word to their thirty-something-year-old children. Truthfully, I'm not sure I want to be "special." There's a reason why it's a euphemism for children with disabilities. He probably felt extremely sorry for me and thought it was a kinder thing to say than, "She laughs way too hard for my jokes. You should have her evaluated."

I love my mom and appreciate her support.

Just for today, I'm "special" to my mom.

Dear God, please bless my family and guide them to health and happiness.

And please, because I like watching TV before I fall asleep, let there be some kind of cheeze-ball 80's movie on HBO right now (except don't let it be "Dirty Dancing" because that was on last week) and let it be half-way over so I'm not up all night because I'm dying to see the "Nobody puts Baby in the corner!" scene (or it's equivalent in any other movie...of course, there is no equivalent to this scene, but you know what I mean).

And keep up the nice weather up! Thanks!

Just for today, I can pray before I go to bed.

I've already gone through one chocolate advent calendar and it's not even Thanksgiving, yet, and I'm still choking on the stale fun sized M&M's that made their way into my life like a bad friend (though, truth be told, it was I who finagled Halloween candy from several little kids). This time last year I vowed to abtsain from sugar (hahahahaha). Then I swung the other way telling myself that I have to have "balance." Then my doctor told me to stay away from chocolate and caffeine (too bad I don't believe in Western medicine). Now chocolate is a staple food group, second to vegetables and dairy.

It's interesting to note that my grandmother was a dipper for See's Candies (maker of fine chocolates). And while my mother was strict about my consumption of sugar, for some reason chocolate from See's was exempt from her rules because it wasn't considered "bad food." To the point where I, to this day, don't think of See's candy as in any way harmful. Because though it may be filled with chocolate and sugar, it's full of love. And I do believe (and I'm totally serious) that this belief allows me to eat it without gaining weight (though, this is JUST See's candy I'm talking about). I know that's scandalous to say (but I'm saying it anyway).

Just for today, I love chocolate.

It wasn't until she walked back to her car after eating Thai food that she noticed a car parked several yards away from the curb. "Funny," she thought, "how similar that car looks to mine...."

She was fond of the theater, but all she could remember of the play she had seen was the lovely floral print rug the set designer had chosen for the bedroom. If only she could afford a rug such as that...

And, yet, it seemed that, though it might be powerful and strong and necessary, in the end bleach was a terrible thing and there was no way she could get near it without destroying an item of clothing...

1) I don't care what anyone says, I'm watching "Places in the Heart" at 11:00 pm.

2) Food for thought:

"The only men who want to get married are those who miss their mommies."

- Samantha, Sex and the City (LOVE THAT SHOW!)

Mind you, this was in the first season and she was speaking of "marriage" - not a committed relationship. But still...

3) Is it bad luck to open up a window of your advent calendar before December because you crave chocolate really bad?

Just for today, it's OK to not be able to form a coherent thought.

I was having coffee with a friend when a friend of hers walked in and joined us. This woman just happens to be a tarot card reader so we were able to talk astrology for a while. However, when she asked me about my moon sign I couldn't answer her. It was very embarrassing. I spent the rest of the day asking myself, "where's my moon?" And I thought I was just a Pisces. She was, however, very sympathetic to the plight of Pisceans. She said that we're the garbage dumpster of the zodiac. While that doesn't quite sound like a compliment, I can relate to the challenge I experience in social situations when I want to peel out of the fifth conversation about relationships gone bad...

Just for today, I can accept my sun sign.

I've been driven to distraction lately by my powerful, yet ridiculous, fears. I know I should be worried about the latest hysteria shoved down my throat by the media [Note: I think it's high time the American people all voted on one thing to be afraid of and stuck to it. Natural disasters, terrorism, birds with colds....it's just too much to keep track of! At least the cold war spanned a solid decade. I'm still catching up to the fear of the government's lame ass response in the event of an earthquake...but that's so September 2005]. And then there are always the old reliable fears, like, cancer, heart disease, and dying alone in my apartment with my three-legged cat.

While these fears would make rational sense for most members of our increasingly fearful society, my fears, while powerful, are far more archaic and petty. I'm afraid that Target is going to run out of stock of Aveeno skin brightening face cream lotion and then I'll have to spend $2.00 more to buy it at Sav-on. I'm afraid that I'll never feel well dressed at a yoga class in LA (and that may be one I have to live with). I'm afraid that I'll never be able to say "No," to the opportunity to watch an airing of "Footloose" that begins at 1:00 AM (and that goes for "Sixteen Candles," "Grease," and "Top Gun") and because of this weakness I'll never work a real job again. I'm afraid that without a real job, I'll sit in my apartment and write my blog while getting high on coffee flavored soy milk from TJ's (my new crack) until I run out of my money, food, and then die (most of my fears end up at this point). I'm afraid that I'll never walk out of a nail salon with the polish still intact (I've had manicurists follow me to my car with polish and alcohol). I'm afraid that my attention span will become so frayed that I'll actually have to learn how to read again.

The list goes on...and, yet, none of them are worthy of headlines.

Just for today, I can accept my irrational fears.