Verwandte Artikel zu A Beautiful New You

A Beautiful New You - Softcover

Dupriest, Laura

 
9781400054763: A Beautiful New You
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1400054761 ISBN 13: 9781400054763
Verlag: Harmony Books, 2005

Inhaltsangabe

A beauty expert shares her personal approach to achieving both inner and outer beauty and explains how women can change and improve every aspect of their lives, taking readers step by step through the process of transformation in order to escape the grind of everyday life, renew their optimism, and reclaim their true beauty. Original. 35,000 first printing.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Laura DuPriest is an author, television personality, former fashion model, and internationally recognized beauty expert with more than two decades of experience in the highly competitive salon and day spa industry. She is the author ofNatural Beauty: Salon Secrets at Home.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1 STEP ONE

Your Awakening

“Like anyone else, there are days when I feel beautiful and

days when I don’t. When I don’t, I do something about it.”

—cheryl tiegs



1



Your Epiphany

“Your life changes the moment you make a new, congruent, committed decision.”

—Anthony Robbins

It was my son Tony’s ninth birthday party and I remember feeling excited and a little giddy because I was throwing the party at a local amusement park. The gathering was going to be small, just my immediate family and a few friends, so throwing on a pair of shorts and tennis shoes was an easy decision. As I pawed through my dresser drawers looking for my favorite, comfy khakis, I smiled in anticipation of the time off from work to ride a roller coaster or Ferris wheel with my boys. I enthusiastically stepped into my shorts, pulled them up to button them. Looking down, I could clearly see the two-inch gap between the button and the buttonhole. Hmmmm. I pulled the waistband up higher, and sucked it in. With great determination and effort, I managed to secure the button and hoist the zipper up halfway. I heaved in a heavy sigh. My zipper had been flying at half-mast for the past few months. But I had a party to attend so I shook it off with my old standby thinking that the washer had caused the garment to shrink. Yeah, that was it. Next time I’ll remember to wash with cold water! I grabbed a baggy sweatshirt and a jeans jacket to cover the gaping zipper and hurried off to celebrate.

My boys and I arrived at the park before the rest of the family in order to set the table and decorate. As I watched my two young sons pass out plates and cups, pride swelled up in me; I was impressed with their helpful nature and pleased that they were bright, polite, and handsome little boys. Soon, bits and pieces of my very large family trickled in, including my parents, Grandma and Grandpa. As my dad got closer I could see his frown and his stare just above my forehead. He was trying to size up the way he felt about my hair color. It was canary yellow. My natural color was a deep brown. I had just had it bleached at my salon, thinking that it would make me look chic, fashionable, and hip. The cut was new as well, very short and kind of spiky, another brainstorm of mine to make me look modern.

My father, being a very honest and passionate man, has no problem expressing himself. “What have you done to your hair, and why did you do it?” I felt as if I was in an I Love Lucy episode, only Ethel wasn’t there to share the humiliation. “I decided to go blond!” I declared proudly. I looked from his scowl to my mom, hoping to get some encouragement or approval. She looked as if she was in pain, not knowing whether to soothe me by contradicting my father’s opinion or to be honest and hurt my feelings. She took the diplomatic route, “It’s a change . . . uh, something different!” Dad’s scowl turned into a roll of the eyes. Again, I brushed off the sinking feeling of self-doubt and attributed the remarks to Dad being a fuddy-duddy. (Anyway, I thought, men like blond hair!)

The afternoon proved to be a blast as twelve wild kids scurried around the amusement park with nine parents in tow. Eventually we all ended up seated around a big table eating cake and ice cream. As I enjoyed my second serving of cake, I felt the eyes of one of my brothers upon me. I looked up to find him staring blankly at me. “What?” I asked. John shook his head and said, “I’ve never seen you fat; you don’t even look like you.” My brother is not a mean person so his comment didn’t impact me at the moment. I just smiled and began cleaning up. Even with three strikes against me that day, I sluffed it off. To me, I was okay, fine, perfect. I had no clue about how I looked to my family or anyone else. I quite frankly was too busy to notice or focus on my reality. The only conclusion I arrived at was that my pants were too tight, especially after my cake feast. I made a mental note to shop the next day for some shorts that would fit. Perhaps I would choose a size larger so the washer wouldn’t play that evil game with me again.

Tony’s birthday party should have been an awakening for me because of the bombardment of negativity, but I had been perfecting the art of ignoring myself and making the best of things. For seven years, I’d been raising my children alone and devoting my days (and nights) to running my own business, focusing on making a living for my family, not the reflection I saw in the mirror. Deep down, I knew that reflection had undergone some dramatic and negative changes from head to toe, but I had become an expert at denial and self-neglect. Why should a frown from my dad, a negative comment from my brother, or a pair of tight shorts get me down? My standard MO was to simply ignore it and press on with life. Solve the problem. Buy new pants.

There was nothing on my agenda the following day, a Sunday, except to be a couch potato and shop for pants that fit. In the late afternoon, I headed out alone to the Target store a few blocks from my house. In the past, I would shop for 8’s or 10’s by holding the garments up to my waist and guessing if they would fit. (I despised trying on clothes in the fitting room.) After surfing the racks for some size 10 jeans, I quickly assessed that they were not even close to reaching across the front of my body. Next I tried 12’s, then 14’s. Wow, I thought to myself, their sizes must be really screwed up! I headed into the dressing room with the evil size 14 jeans. I grabbed the 12’s as well . . . hoping . . . praying. Before I slipped out of my shorts, I made sure the curtain was completely closed, determined to keep secret what I was about to find out. Even before I could get the size 12 jeans up past my knees I knew it would be impossible to zip them up. I kicked them off and quickly tried on the 14’s. The pressure of the denim on my thighs was almost as humiliating as the flattening of my beefy tush. I looked in the mirror and realized what my body actually looked like. Puffy, swollen, lumpy, and just plain old HUGE. Slowly I turned around, bent over slightly, and looked over my shoulder to get the real view of my backside. My neck got warm and I started to feel the panic. Swiftly, I scrambled out of the jeans as if they were on fire and left them in a heap on the floor. As I left the store I began comparing myself to all the other women who were strolling the aisles. Many of the others looked the same as me, plumpish and plain, some in sweats and baseball caps. That didn’t make me feel any better. They made me see more clearly what I looked like. My pace quickened as I headed for my car, and it was as if someone or something was chasing me or attacking me. The hot feeling at the back of my neck turned into a full body sweat. I was having a panic attack. Fear and dread washed over me in a flood. I pointed the car toward the freeway and headed to my parents’ house. I would seek comfort and approval from my mom.

The thirty-minute drive out to my folks’ house was agonizing. I bit my lower lip and stole glances at myself in the rearview mirror. My brother’s words from the day before haunted me—he didn’t recognize me anymore. The mirror reflected the image of my chubby face, my double chin, and my freaky-looking haircut. My complexion appeared dull and colorless. My eye color used to be a brilliant blue. Now, it was a faded gray. I looked completely washed out because of the peculiar, baby-chick-yellow hair color. My brother was right....

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Harmony Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2005
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1400054761
ISBN 13 
9781400054763
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
227
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar