The Punchbowl--Part Four

The Punchbowl—Part Four

 Regina eyed this daughter too much like her. “You have your mother’s curvy figure and round face. No diet’s going to change your natural shape. You’ll wind up with sunken cheeks and look like a cratered moon.”

“Craters and peaks,” Tracey said mournfully, tapping her nose.

Regina couldn’t stop the spurt of laughter. “All right, so you think nature threw a few thorns among the petals, as my grandmother used to say. Doesn’t make the flower any less beautiful.”

“I’m not beautiful!” Tracey cried.

Regina’s heart hurt as she pulled her reluctant daughter into her embrace. “Maybe you’re not TV-model beautiful. Most aren’t without the makeup, lighting, and airbrushing. Make the most of your unique qualities.”

This message having been preached to the point of inanity, it barely registered. Tracey burrowed against her mother’s shoulder. Her voice came out slightly muffled. “Mom, can’t you do that with makeup? You know, make what you’ve got look better?”

Regina smiled. “That’s not exactly what I meant, but yes, we use makeup to enhance what nature’s given us.”

“Could I enhance my nose, maybe?”

“Well, the neon cheeks certainly would have drawn attention,” Regina teased.

“Oh, shut up,” Tracey said with a non-playful edge.

Regina’s stern glance warned Tracey to go no further. “I think in this case you’re hoping to minimize certain features, make them less noticeable.” Tracey nodded vigorously. “Okay, a few quick pointers. We need to get back to our guests.”

Tracey bounced on the seat.

“Hold still, you.” Regina opened her makeup kit. “Lighter and darker shades of foundation are used for contouring.” She applied the thin liquid to Tracey’s nose. “Then we gently rub where the colors meet to blend them. For your cheeks, darker color under the bone to give a more oval appearance.” Regina picked up the blush. “Just a little to bring out the cheekbones and a touch of eye liner to make your eyes pop. You’re fortunate to have naturally curled eyelashes. There!

Tracey twirled toward the mirror and hugged herself. “It’s weird.” She turned her face this way and that. “I don’t really look different, but I do.”

“That’s the idea,” Regina said. “But Tracey, take note of your best features. See the sparkle in your eyes and smile? That’s not makeup, that’s you. Let’s go down.”

“Oh, Mom!” Tracey clutched Regina’s hand. “Do I have to wash it off? Daddy says no makeup until I’m thirteen.”

“Well, we did it right. I doubt anyone will notice.” She patted her daughter’s cheek.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Mommy recently changed to Mom. Regina sighed and steered Tracey downstairs. She swept an assessing gaze over the party. “Tracey, your cousin Andrew seems all alone. Go say hello and invite him out to the garden.”

Tracey rolled her eyes but grabbed another tart. Regina watched with satisfaction as the boy accepted it and smiled in shy gratitude. He and Tracey passed through the French doors, munching, and Regina turned to the buffet. The punchbowl needed refilling. She took a firm hold about the grape clusters and headed for the kitchen.

The Point of the Gospel on Friday--John prepares the way.