The Dead Ancestor Makeover

I was like a little kid again.  Putting on make up.  Dead ancestor makeup.  

Because I have been cast as Dead Puritan Ancestor in Addams' Family.

I studied the YouTube video, setting it on the bathroom counter so I could follow the instructions to a tee.  

It was much harder than it looked, but the results were amazing. 

I look great, don't you think?

Say what?   You seriously don’t believe it’s me?   Shut up.

Of course it’s me. 

OK.  So it’s not me. 

You know how dead people don’t look as good as live people?  Well, when I got done with my dead ancestor makeover, I scared myself.  Kevin looked at me, growled and went under the bed. 

I asked Linda to take a picture of me.  “OMG, Mom.  Go away,” she said.

“If you wish to remain in my will, you will take my picture,” I said, handing her my phone. 

She reluctantly took a few pictures.

"How do I look?"

"Back up," she said.  I backed up several feet.  

She took some more pictures and reviewed them.  “Further, Mom,” she said. 

I stepped backed again.   She took some more pictures.

She looked at the pictures and shook her head.  “Go down the street,” she said. “I’ll take the picture from my bedroom window.”

It was like that scene in Tootsie, when the director told the cameraman to back away from the shot and he said, “How far?” and the director said, “Cleveland”.
 
Linda probably would like me to back up all the way to Cleveland.  (Or at least to Dayton, where I will attending my first ever Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop in a few weeks.)

I had an idea.
 
“How about I put on one of my super-cute polar fleece head bands. That will help, right?”

"Or a bag over your head,” she said.  She’s a comedian.

I put on the headband.  It didn’t help.

"Try your gloves,” she said, in a moment of pure genius, that she certainly inherited from me, despite the fact that she is adopted.  I’ve never been prouder. 

I put on my neon flashing gloves that I’d ordered on Groupon.

And it did help pull the attention away from my hideous make up job.

See?

Then I had a flashback to 9-month old Kimmy who discovered the jar of Desitin next her crib after waking up from a nap.  I went in search of the picture.  It was among several bazillion photos in the hope chest.

When I found it I was overwhelmed with a mixture of pride and jealousy.

 

Her makeup was way better than mine.

Next time I'm going to use Desitin.