Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The price of beauty
Posted by Wendy Rodrigue on Tue, Aug 9, 2011 at 7:17 PM
“Vanity is the quicksand of reason.” -George Sand (1804-1876)
“I want a face that my husband doesn’t feel the need to Photoshop,” I told my dermatologist, a licensed aesthetician recommended by a girlfriend.
It was the summer of 2005 and my first visit ever to such a doctor. She explained that my thin skin, the result of my natural, dull blonde coloring, made a chemical peel dangerous, especially the strong type needed to attack large areas of sun damage, the result of years at the beach growing up on Okaloosa Island.
She asked me about my vanity, suggesting cautiously that I allow her to freeze the darkest, largest areas from my skin before looking at other options.
“You’ll have scabs on your face for up to six weeks,” she explained. “Once they’re fully healed, we’ll treat your skin as a whole.”
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes as she blow-torched my cheeks and forehead in eight or ten places, leaving as many sores, some as large as a dime.
My husband and I traveled much of that summer. Make-up was pointless, and so I ventured out with nothing but sunscreen and a hat, refusing to let him take my picture.
By August, the sores were gone; I abandoned ideas of any further treatment; and George Rodrigue minimized, or at least hid well, his use of Photoshop on my visage.
Then Katrina hit, and I really forgot about it.
I’ve written before that we were the lucky ones, George and I. Not only did we not lose our home, but also we had another place to go, a house in the country in central California, far from reality. In the summer of 2006, we made our escape, spending six months in Carmel Valley, where George painted, creating something other than relief prints for the first time since the storm. Meanwhile, I tackled a catalogue raisonné of more than six hundred Cajun posters and Blue Dog silkscreens.
Like many, we faced feelings that we hadn’t suffered enough. It was the perfect time to attack my face. With a doctor’s supervision, I began an Obagi program, seven steps both morning and night.
“Whatever you do,” she warned, “don’t quit.”
It was awful —- and very humbling. I bled, peeled, whimpered-in-pain, and generally endured vanity torture for six months. Make-up and powder were impossible. My own husband jumped in alarm as I brought him his coffee one morning, claiming he mistook me, my chin and jaw peeling profusely, for Obi-Wan Kenobi.
According to my doctor, I shed seven layers of skin in those six months. It was expensive, about fifteen hundred dollars in all, but in my mind I offset that cost against the money I saved on make-up, dinners out, and travel. And, most important, I was paying for a life’s lesson, perhaps better than any therapy.
“You look good in the dark,” said George one evening. We both laughed, as I applied a bit of lip-gloss and a cool rag to my face before going to a friend’s house for dinner.
Eventually the holidays arrived, we returned to New Orleans, and I took a break. It was then, as my skin heeled, that I saw the changes. I switched to a minimal maintenance program, the same one I use today, visiting the doctor twice a year. I never, ever leave my house without sunscreen.
Astonished by my new face, my family and friends asked me about the program.
“Six months of bleeding and peeling! No way!” was the general response. I can’t say that I blame them. My face was my post-Katrina torture — the outward reflection of my inner shame.
Despite a new face, I can’t say that running the gauntlet cured anything beneath the surface. This very article is the case in point. I returned quickly to the makeup, highlights and dinner parties. For a while, however, the treatments were a strange form of purification, a way of facing the guilt.
And George? He’s back to taking pictures…
...and he hasn’t Photoshopped me since.
Wendy Rodrigue (a.k.a. Dolores Pepper)
Also this week: “White Linen Night, the Unexpected” from Musings of an Artist’s Wife
Comments (11)
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As I approach one of those "upper milestone" birthdays I am humbled by your openness with the vanity we ladies all struggle with. Those struggles are sometimes excruciating! Thank you for sharing!
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Well, I am so glad George doesn't "Photoshop" you any more! If I could get a "peel" and look half as good as you, I would do it tomorrow! Your beauty is beyond that anyway. Your smile and graciousness (is that a real word?) make you incredibly beautiful......and that's the truth!
Freda
Thank you Freda, and Happy Birthday Cindy! Reliving the experience for this story, I started thinking we could have filmed some sort of horror film -- it really was rather gross. Ah well, maybe next time-
Wendy/Delores, What a delightful find you are. Have really enjoyed your stories, in Gambit & the Blog. You and GR are true Louisiana treasures. Congrats to George for finding you & to you for proving the naysayers wrong. Just bought the LSU blue dog as an engagement gift for my daughter & soon to be son in law, both LSU grads, he in LSU med school. Love the simplicity of the blue dog, the history, the enduring charm! Thanks for sharing!
Thank you, Maggie Mae. I'm always happy to know I have readers! I hope your daughter and her new husband enjoy the LSU print. The money benefits arts in education throughout the state of Louisiana. Many, many thanks!
Exposing the futility of these measures was a great outreach to women who feel these temporary fixes are so very necessary. I applaud your bravado in such details. The one truth you touched on is: well, does it make a difference inside? Does one see one's self as youthful based on a necessarily repetative series of spinning those ever-loving wheels of time? I doubt it.
I say let it be! Let's be what we are. I have a philosophy that the more we accept what it is...that we are today...the less time bears down upon us. Good water, good friends, good nutrition, good attitude=
good skin!
Wendy,I just found your wonderful blog today. I had my first look at a "Blue Dog" several years ago during a leisurely stroll through the Quarter.Like you, I was mesmerized and marveled at how someone could ,using a few basic colors and a single subject, create a piece of art that was so amazing! Like you also, I decided to try to undo the years of tanning(w/ baby oil, no less)damage I had accumulated at PCB and my family's lake house. I decided to go for the "full Monty" at my surgeon's office and had my face,chest, upper back ,arms and hands done. I was in AGONY for over a week, with open,bleeding sores in all areas.I actually had to coat the areas with Neosporin and Vaseline..then damp cloths, since I'd awaken to find my night clothes stuck to the lesions and have to endure the pain of peeling them apart. It was an AWFUL experience! The esthetician was new and "overdid" the layers of solution she used..then left it all on for much too long,as I later learned. Sometimes I wonder at our quest for a more youthful appearance, though, at my age..I'm just trying to hang on to what I have! I look forward to following your blog and, hopefully meeting both you and your husband in the near future. I fell in love with NOLA (actually the whole state, from Lake Charles to Houma and New Iberia) years ago and I'm yearning for a visit! Jan
What a story, Jan! You make my experience sound like a walk in the park. I'm glad you lived through it, and I'm sure your skin is beautiful, but jeez that can't be worth it. Many thanks for your kind words about my blog and especially George Rodrigue's artwork and the state of Louisiana. We live in a special place to be sure. Thank you for writing in-
What is " Photoshop? " I am a old long lost friend of George, Wendy you probally dont remember me, I kinda dissappeard for the last 12 years. I met you at you home in Lafayette a couple of times. I was a Ford truck salesman but when I left work I pulled my pony tail out my shirt, put my leathers on on lived on my Harley. George always was amased at the way as he said ,I would transform myself. In 1997 he gave my a Blue Dog book and signed it and put " Just James" in big letters, then he gave me a folding print with Wendy and Blue Dog on the outside and a invitation to dinner at Cafe Tee George, he made a limited amount { I think 100}, and numbered mine # 1, he picked on me and told me , if you use it you will need to surrender it, well I never used it, I put it in my book he gave me and still have it. I guess I was strange to most people, being a K-9 handler in Viet Nam and loosing my dog in battle keep me to myself for many years, george was the only person I talked to about Nam, and loosing my dog. I lost a leg in an accident in April 2000 and went deeper into seclusion, I moved to the woods in north east Texas and still live here in a log cabin on a lake with my bride and 5 dogs, every so often I take my Blue Dog out and think about how george accepted m for who I was and what I went thru,. I still remember you making me taste your holiday cookies you baked. Tell George I am still alive, I was a member of the Viet Nam Vets Motor Cycle Club and known as Just James. What to do with my print invitation? I just had my first grandbaby on 11-11-11, and it will be hers some day. Love-Respect-and Friendship~~I am Just James
Hi James, Many thanks for writing in. Photoshop is a computer program that basically allows the user to alter images. George was happy to get your message. He still has the leather gloves you gave him. You can reach him at info@georgerodrigue.com. Wendy
