Clarice James

Smart, Fun, Relatable Fiction


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Meet Jennifer Slattery: Speaker, Editor, and Author

Healing Love is a work of women’s fiction with a strong romantic thread

A news anchor intern has it all planned out, and love isn’t on the agenda.

Brooke Endress is on the cusp of her lifelong dream when her younger sister persuades her to chaperone a mission trip to El Salvador. Packing enough hand sanitizer and bug spray to single-handedly wipe out malaria, she embarks on what she hopes will be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

But Brooke is blindsided by the desperation for hope and love she sees in the orphans’ eyes. And no less by the connection she feels with her handsome translator. As newfound passion blooms, Brooke wrestles with its implications for her career dreams.

Ubaldo Chavez, teacher and translator, knows the struggle that comes with generational poverty. But he found the way out – education – and is determined to help his students rise above. When he agrees to translate for a mission team from the United States he expects to encounter a bunch of “missional tourists” full of empty promises. Yet an American news anchor defies his expectations, and he finds himself falling in love. But what does he have to offer someone with everything?

I should know by now not to attach the word glamorous to anything publishing related. But my inner muse is anything if expectant, and she has a tendency to be more than a little fanciful. She’s learned to release any hopes of working with a showered, well-attired and made-up author. She’s probably also come to terms with the fact that she and her author will spend most of their time in a small, quiet, isolated office.

While watching her friends and neighbors enjoy the feeling of a fresh breeze stirring and the gentle rays of the summer morning sun. Something she and her author frequently write about but never experience. She’s also given up any ideas of hot, fresh cooked meals, learning to enjoy handfuls of nuts or scoops of peanut butter, or whatever other uberly convenient food happens to be on hand.

But research trips, and traipsing across the country from one adventure to another, are dreams neither she nor I have been able to relinquish. Perhaps its our dual, interlocking imaginations, but when we planned our visit to Austin last summer, we fully expected a glamorous, glorious time, the stuff books are made of. Most specifically, ours.

I packed my cutest clothes, my computer, my hand held voice recorder—virtually everything I’d need to imitate Barbara Walters or Diane Sawyer, or any other gorgeous, successful investigator. I arrived with a full tank of gas and a full agenda. I’d visit museums, eclectic and obscure restaurants … a murder mystery dinner theater.

I had it all planned out. What could possibly go wrong?

How many blunders did we experience; let me count the ways.

Actually, let me not. That’d take entirely too long. I’ll share “a day in the life” story instead.

It was midway through our trip, and I’d donned on my favorite outfit and sandals—the white wedges I’d paid entirely too much for.  This was the day we’d visit one of Austin’s finer restaurants, the location I considered having my heroine work at.

As we were walking toward it, my dad, who accompanied me on this trip, gave me a sideways shove. I frowned at him, certain he was making fun of my attempt to walk in my higher-than-normal shoes.

Nope. I realized, a moment too late, he was trying to help me avoid stepping in … something. Rather unpleasant, that I’ll graciously choose not to mention here. Gunk that remained on my shoes despite my numerous attempts to scrape it off as we went—now that led to some glamorous walking. (Insert sarcasm)

But I refused to allow this rather smelly mishap put a damper on our evening, so we continued on. Hungry, we stopped at a street corner in the shade of a tree to decide where to go for dinner.

When suddenly, something cool and wet splattered my leg. Sometimes it take a bit for my brain to catch up, and by the time it had, I was splattered a second time. I glanced first at the ground then at the tree above us and quickly zeroed in on the culprit. A lovely little bird had made his presence known.

My dad and I immediately dashed into the closest restaurant and headed straight for the bathroom where I practically dove into the sink. An hour or so later, with bellies full and still determined to finish our night strong, we rented a pair of bikes and decided to explore the area flanking the river.

I’m pretty sure dad had a great time. Laughing at me as I pedaled like a mad-woman while getting close to nowhere (my gears were broke) and fought against my perpetually spinning seat (apparently the screws were lose. In the seat, not my head. Though a convincing argument could be made for the latter).

That night, tired, amused, and just a wee bit flustered, I walked into our hotel carrying my stinky, gross sandals in a plastic bag, ready to crash before continuing our adventure the next day.

And that, my friends, is a day in the not-so-glamorous life of a writer.

 

BIO: Author, speaker, and ministry leader Jennifer Slattery writes for Crosswalk.com and is the managing and acquiring editor for Guiding Light Women’s Fiction, an imprint with Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. She believes fiction has the power to transform lives and change the culture. Healing Love is her sixth novel, and it was birthed during a trip she and her family took to El Salvador that opened her eyes to the reality of generational poverty and sparked a love for orphans and all who’ve experienced loss.

Her deepest passion is to help women experience God’s love and discover, embrace, and live out who they are in Christ. As the founder of Wholly Loved Ministries, she travels with her team to various churches to speak to women and help them experience the love and freedom only Christ can offer. When not writing, editing, or speaking, you’ll likely find her chatting with her friends or husband in a quiet, cozy coffeehouse. Visit her online at JenniferSlatteryLivesOutLoud.com and connect with her and her Wholly Loved team at WhollyLoved.com


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Wisdom Comes With Age: Myth Busted!

Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman

After all my years as a functioning adult, how can I still be so gullible? Isn’t wisdom supposed to come with age? If only Jamie and Adam of MythBusters had tested that theory, I’d have been better prepared.

Don’t suppress the Spirit, and don’t stifle those who have a word from the Master. On the other hand, don’t be gullible. Check out everything, and keep only what’s good. Throw out anything tainted with evil. ~ Thessalonians 5:19-22 (MSG)

Anyway, here’s the scoop. Recently, I wanted to buy some moisturizer, but didn’t know which one to get. In my defense, I dislike shopping and making decisions, so when an opportunity came along to skip all that, I thought it was a tiny miracle wrapped in God’s grace.

“How did the opportunity come along?” you ask.

I saw an ad online somewhere. (And, no, I don’t remember where. My husband, David, has lectured me on that already.) The ad caught my attention, first because it said “FREE trial!” Need I go on?

Did you catch the small print? “Simulated imagery. Results not typical.”

The second hook was “anti-aging.” I’m probably 30 40 years too late for that, but I couldn’t find one that claimed “reverse-aging.”  I reasoned that the “anti-redness” and “pore-refining” agents couldn’t hurt.

The third reason clinched the deal! All the gazillionaire members of the Shark Tank reality show had invested in this amazing product. How could I go wrong with the sharpest business minds in the country backing it?

Can you say “too good to be true”?

“How did you find that out?” you ask.

When David opened the credit card bill three weeks later. “Sweetie, did you order an ounce of anti-aging cream for $92.00?”

Indignant, I answered, “I most certainly did not. I ordered an ounce of anti-aging cream for FREE.”

FRONT: Mark Cuban, Kevin O’Leary, and Lori Greiner. BACK: Daymond John, Clarice G. James (newest investor) and Robert Herjavec

“Okaay …. how about an under eye cream for another $92.00?”

“Hey! They said they’d throw that in for nothing.”

In less than 60 seconds online, David found a number of consumer warnings about this scam. Apparently, I’d missed the fine print in the ad, which said I could try it FREE for 15 days. If I was unhappy, I had to send the free samples back, or I’d be charged.

Instantly my head began to ache, like common sense was hitting it with a hammer, yelling, “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” What was I thinking?

David spent the next few weeks on the phone with the scammers, the credit card company, and the Better Business Bureau until the matter was settled. End result: All charges were deleted from our credit card. Most importantly, my husband held no charges against me. Now that’s what a tiny miracle wrapped in God’s grace looks like.

“Did you learn your lesson?” you ask.

I sure did. But one good thing came out of this whole mess. An FBI agent contacted me to work undercover for them in their White Collar Division. They’re doing a background check on me now. All I had to do was give their agent–real nice guy, he was–my mother’s maiden name, my date of birth, and my social security number. I get paid $92.00 for every tip I send them.

Click here for more Beauty Tips and Lessons on Being Gullible.

Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. ~ Ephesians 2:7 (MSG)


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Bras, Glutes, & Duck Heads: Age-Defining Moments

It’s been a rough few weeks for my ego. Please note the title says age-defining, not age-defying

Party of One Final Cover

Watch for it in May!

It began when I was out with a friend at a small local restaurant. Since my book Party of One is due out within weeks, I’ve been scouting venues to have book signings. I asked to speak with the owner of the place. I was surprised when a cute guy in his twenties approached the table.

He’s the owner?

Anyway, I told him what I had in mind. He was agreeable to the book signing idea, and I was excited.

“We could schedule you any night, maybe seven to closing,” he said. “We’ll set you up at one of our larger tables, and advertise it on Facebook. Just let me know what night would work best.”

The baby-faced owner was so darn cute and optimistic I didn’t have the heart to tell him.

First, nights won’t “work best.” My readers are women, middle-aged and older. Some of them don’t drive after dark—or shouldn’t. The rest of them have taken their bras off by seven. Once that happens, there’s no turning back.

After expressing my appreciation, I promised to get back to him soon. Better yet, maybe I could speak to his mother. She may be more sympathetic and better able to explain this rite of passage to her son.

Friends, this world is not your home, so don’t make yourselves cozy in it. Don’t indulge your ego at the expense of your soul. Live an exemplary life among the natives so that your actions will refute their prejudices. Then they’ll be won over to God’s side and be there to join in the celebration when he arrives. ~ 1 Peter 2:11-12 (MSG)

A second age-defining moment actually stems from my new membership at the gym … but not in the way you might think.

When I joined earlier this year, I had no fantasies about competing with lunks and beauty queens who were half my age. My goal was simple—to be more comfortable in my clothes, preferably the smaller sizes.

Anyway, after being assessed by a professional trainer, I got started.

I’d been working out for a few months, when I noticed an unwelcome change on my way into the kitchen one morning. My PJ bottoms hugged my glutes a little too tight. My brain ran back to the gym. (Okay, maybe “ran” is an exaggeration.) I pictured the machines in my head, then grumbled, “Why would a pro tell me to do exercises that would make my butt bigger?”

This may look exactly like me, but it’s not.

I was writing a formal letter of complaint in my head as I tugged at my PJ bottoms. That’s when I saw the tag—in the front. In my rush, I’d put my pants on backwards.

Knowing my husband was on his way, I wanted to right that wrong before he noticed.  A speedy off and on, then I began my breakfast duties with all the innocence and sophistication I could muster.

Then I heard him chuckling behind me.

With a hand on my hip, I said, “What’s so funny?”

“If you’re wondering why your sweatshirt has no spots on it, it’s because you’ve got in on backwards.”

Without much thought, my big mouth snapped back, “Then it matched my pants! So there!”

He’s still laughing.

In the end, people appreciate honest criticism far more than flattery. ~ Proverbs 28:23 (NLT)

This past holiday weekend, I got to spend time with my six grandchildren. The four older grandkids—Jessica, Colin, Michael, and Darin—are polite and tactful, but basically ignore me. Nice way of saying there’s a good chance I bore them. C’est la vie.

However, I can still amuse the youngest two: nine-year-old Max and seven-year-old Margaux—even when I’m not trying.

Dressed in my new outfit with my make-up and hair looking as good as ever, I sat on the sofa in their rental house, admiring the view of a lovely pond.

Margaux joined me. She leaned over the back of the sofa, her precious little face studying my features, like seven-year-olds do—up close and personal. Pointing to my chin and/or neck area, she exclaimed, “Hey! Memere! It looks like you have a duck’s head under there.”

Max jumped on the sofa, abandoning his Legos. “Let me see!” He twisted his whole body for a better view.

I began to laugh.

Margaux turned my head toward her. “Wait! When you laugh it looks like a tiny person!”

Max got even closer. “It does! If we draw eyes on it, it would look like a chubby face.”

I can’t wait until they grow up and ignore me.*

Grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged; parents are the pride of their children. ~ Proverbs 17:6 (NLT)

(*That’s so not true.)


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Breakfast at Epiphany’s 

Congenial conversation—what a pleasure! The right word at the right time—beautiful! ~ Proverbs 15:23 (MSG)

The breakfast conversations between my husband and me often sound like this.

ME, cheerful as always in the morning: “Do you want banana-pecan pancakes or your usual oatmeal?”

DAVID, laughing: “I take it a banana’s gone bad?”

ME, hiding the brown banana: “Maybe. I can throw it away or make you the pancakes—your choice.”

DAVID, making a snap decision: “Pancakes.”

ME, smiling sweetly: “Wise man.”

[THE PANCAKES ARE ON THE TABLE AND GRACE HAS BEEN SAID.]

ME, resting my chin in my hand: “Do you know how to bail someone out of jail?”

DAVID, looking at his stack of pancakes: “Does this have anything to do with my getting pancakes on a Tuesday?”

ME, befuddled: “What? No. Dee’s son Zach got arrested for drug possession. I don’t know how to post bail.”

DAVID, even more befuddled: “Why do you need to know? He’s Dee’s son.”

ME, sighing loudly: “Yeah, but I want to know how to do it first.”

DAVID, scrunching up his face: “What are you talking about?”

ME, holding my hands up to emphasize my point: “She doesn’t know how to begin to find out about bail. And she’s just not the type of person who’d leave her son in jail for any length of time.”

DAVID, taking a bite of pancake: “Okay …”

ME, narrowing my eyes at him: “What’s that supposed to mean? Would you leave one of our kids is jail?”

DAVID, thinking: “Depends on the charge—and the kid.”

ME, ignoring his wise remark: “Oh, and another thing, I’ve changed my mind on the white cabinets for the kitchen.”

DAVID, turning to look in the kitchen: Our kitchen?”

ME, giving him a duh look: “Who else’s kitchen would I be talking about?”

DAVID, trying hard to get a grip: “Oh, I don’t know, maybe Dee’s.”

ME, waving his comment away like a pesky mosquito: “Anyway, I wanted all white, but now I decided maybe a light grayish-brown wood would look nice with the stainless steel appliances.”

DAVID, again looking in the kitchen: “What stainless steel appliances?”

ME, dreaming about how it will look: “The ones we’ll be getting with the new cabinets.”

DAVID, rolling his eyes: “And how do you plan to pay for all this?”

ME, rolling my eyes back at him: “I already told you. Out of my $7,000 a-week-for-life winnings from Publishers Clearing House.”

DAVID, nodding: “Good to know you’ve got a solid plan in place.”

ME, pushing my dream aside to get back to reality: “Now, about Zach. How do you think Sergeant O’Neil knew he had drugs in his car?”

DAVID, one eyebrow raised: “Who’s Sergeant O’Neil?”

ME, surprised he doesn’t remember: “She’s the cop who works with Kyle.”

DAVID, both eyebrows raised: “Who’s Kyle?”

ME, wondering what he was doing when he wasn’t listening to me: “You know, Charlie’s friend, Sarah’s husband? Remember, I told you about Sarah being Juliette’s best friend?”

DAVID, sighing loudly: “You did? Juliette? Sheesh, I can’t keep track of all the people you know.”

ME, crossing my arms: “They’re not people I know, silly, they’re people I’ve made up.”

DAVID, kneading his face with his hand: “Are any of the things you talk about real?”

ME, astonished he would even ask: “Duh, yeah. You’re eating pancakes, aren’t you?”

DAVID, poking the stack with his fork: “Am I? Then I think I’ve earned some sausage to go with them.”

ME, taking a long slow sip of my coffee: “I’ll get right on that. As soon as my new kitchen is in.”

And oh, my dear Timothy, guard the treasure you were given! Guard it with your life. Avoid the talk-show religion and the practiced confusion of the so-called experts. People caught up in a lot of talk can miss the whole point of faith.Overwhelming grace keep you! ~ 1Timothy 6:20-21 (MSG)

 


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In Jeopardy on Jeopardy

alex-welcomeWhenever my husband David and I visit my father-in-law, we have to watch Jeopardy so that sweet man can count how many answers his Son-the-Genius gets right. The genius title has been disputed by David numerous times, but his proud father insists there’s an IQ test score floating around in history to prove it.

Of course, David doesn’t help his non-genius argument when he throws out correct responses like these: “What is a Leopard 10-point Crampon Flexlock?” … “Who are the Limeliters?” … “What is an Aye Aye?” … “Who is responsible for the Jumping Frenchmen of Maine Disorder?” … “What is Gallopin’ Gertie?” … “Who is O. Winston Link?

aye-aye

Aye Aye

Who knows all these things … I mean, besides my husband … and people like him?

Not to brag, but I know a lot of stuff too. In fact, my knowledge base is so massive I have to store it outside my brain in places like the Oxford English Dictionary, People Magazine, and Wikipedia. As a fail-safe, two self-appointed guards are in place to correct me: 1) my husband, Son-the-Genius, and 2) my friend, Smarty-Pants Mahoney. But I am quite certain I could do as well on Jeopardy … if they’d only change the categories. Why, I might even rout Son-the-Genius! [For instance, see how I used the word “rout” instead of “beat?”]

Here’s the way I imagine it would go …

CLARICE, WIFE OF SON-THE-GENIUS: “Alex, I’ll take CANDY for 400.”

ALEX TREBEK: “Nation famous for red fish.” 

CLARICE: Buzz. “What is Sweden, the country of origin of those chewy fish that get caught between your teeth but taste so good?”

“Yes, it could be a winky face …

ALEX: “Correct.” Chuckle, chuckle. “Even with the mixed review.”

CLARICE: “Let me have PUNCTUATION for 600, Alex.”

ALEX:  “A partial punctuation mark.”

CLARICE: Buzz. “What is a semicolon, which you should avoid using when writing fiction–especially in dialogue–because editors are not partial to it?”

ALEX: “Correct–again with more editorializing.”

CLARICE: “Glad you like it, Alex. I’ll move on to COLORS for 800.”

ALEX: “A French liqueur made by the Carthusian Monks since 1737.”

CLARICE: Buzz. “What is Chartreuse–also a color which I never wear because it makes me look old and jaundiced?”

ALEX: “Um, you’re right again … uh, not about looking old or jaundiced… uh, I mean … never mind.”

CLARICE: “Thanks, Alex. You’re too kind. Now I’ll take HGTV for 1,000.”

ALEX: Family, Waco, magnolia, farmhouse.

CLARICE: Buzz. “Who are Chip and Joanna Gaines, hosts of Fixer Upper, whose style I love unless she gets too country like the time she used the rusty, dented red metal buckets for kitchen lamp shades, which were a bit too much for me, but what did you think?”

jeopardy-with-cj-2

ALEX: “Uh, correct again, Clarice. I’m sorry, but I’d like to stay on point next time, if you don’t mind?”

CLARICE: “Works for me, Alex. No need to apologize. Besides, I would’ve gotten the last one right on the word Waco alone. How about BIBLE for 1,200?”

ALEX: “It’s the Daily Double! Clarice, you have $10,000 so far. What would you like to wager?”

CLARICE: “I’ll make it a true Daily Double, Alex. Never know when I’ll get this chance again.”

ALEX: “Four creatures sent as part of the plagues against Egypt.”

CLARICE: “What are frogs, mothers-in-law–just kidding!–mice–oops, no, I mean lice–flies, and locusts?”

ALEX: “Hmm. It seems you have more than four creatures … Wait. Our judges have ruled in your favor. Looks like we have a new champion!”

CLARICE: “But what about Final Jeopardy?”

ALEX: “Brad and Stephanie have no money to wager, so that’s the end of our show for today.”

CLARICE: “But I have a lot more answer-questions. I’ll be quick. What is on the lam (not lamb)? What is soapstone? Who is Snoop Dogg? What is claptrap? Where is Patagonia? What is tongue-in-groove and tongue-in-cheek? What are washboard abs? Who are Andrew Johnson and Julie Andrews? Where is Mount Nebo? What are Spoolies? …

ALEX, HOLDING UP HIS HAND: “Again, Clarice, you won, the show is over …”

 

alex-stop-talkingCLARICE, HOLDING UP HER HAND: “… What is a frozen rope? Where is Waldo? What is a frozen shoulder? Who is Amy Carmichael? What is Pierre? What is hardtack? Who is Bobby Vinton? What is the number 42? Who is Juan Ponce de Leon? Where is Double Header?

Yep. It would go a lot like that.

alex-needs-helpDoes not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice? At the highest point along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; beside the gate leading into the city, at the entrance, she cries aloud: “To you, O people, I call out; I raise my voice to all mankind. You who are simple, gain prudence; you who are foolish, set your hearts on it. Listen, for I have trustworthy things to say; I open my lips to speak what is right.. ~ Proverbs 8:1-6 (NIV)

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. ~ 2 Timothy 2:15 (NIV)

Note: To those who know me well (and those who don’t know me at all), you have surmised correctly–I did NOT appear on Jeopardy.


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What Is Hooey and Why Is There a Lot of It?

As my title suggests, another year has gone, and I still don’t know everything I want to know. Here’s my latest dozen queries.

pig-in-mask

Sorry, I’m out. Pulled a hammy.

  1. This is a compound question. On the new reality show Hunted, teams of two go on the lamb, hoping to win big bucks by being the last ones captured. Are they or we supposed to ignore the camera crew following them? And why do they go on the lamb? Why not a goat or a cow or a rat? Huh? What do you mean it’s lam? What on earth is a lam?
  2. Why do the disgruntled get all the headlines? Don’t the gruntled deserve some attention?
  3. Can a pig pull a hamstring?
  4. Why is it that when people drive faster than us they’re considered idiots, but when they drive slower they’re morons?
  5. When we can’t do everything, why do we choose to do nothing?
  6. Why does Hawaii have interstate highways?
  7. In 2016, someone named their baby Little Sweetmeat. Why do parents do this? I’ve already started a GoFundMe account to pay for this kid’s therapy.
  8. Since Jesus taught by telling parables, why do Christians insist they “can’t possibly read fiction”?
  9. The picture of a thousand words. What’s it worth? Does it depend on the words?
  10. Why do we continue the whole groundhog thing? There’s no food or gifts connected to it, and no one really believes it, especially those Christians who don’t read fiction.
  11. What do I say when someone says I’m in denial but I’m not?
  12. Why do I own 47 bowls and still use old Cool Whip containers? (Okay, so maybe I am in denial.)

how-i-bowl-3-strings

[hoo-ee] 

interjection — 1. (used to express disapproval or disbelief): Hooey! You know that’s not true.

noun — 2. silly or worthless talk, writing, ideas, etc.; nonsense; bunk: That’s a lot of hooey and you know it!

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. ~ James 1:5 (NIV)


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Beauty Tips for Ladies of an Uncertain Age Only

And I want women to get in there with the men in humility before God, not primping before a mirror or chasing the latest fashions but doing something beautiful for God and becoming beautiful doing it. ~ 1 Timothy 2:9-10 (MSG)

The advantage of being my age is that I’ve mastered a few beauty tips over the years which I am transparent enough to pass on to my readers.

dirty-eueglassesFirst, clean your eyeglasses!

You know that blouse you’ve been wearing three days in a row—it’s covered with drips and dribbles. Oh, yes, it is. No one will tell you because they’re just relieved it’s not them.

I once worked with a woman who kept pushing her eyeglasses up her nose while she ate her tuna fish sandwich. By the end of lunch, her glasses were smeared with mayonnaise. Please! This is not a good look for you–first, because you won’t be able to see. And, second, it’s hard for people to take you seriously when you have tuna hanging off an eyeglass hinge. 

Clean your eyeglasses before you attempt to pluck those thick spikes which crop up in your eyebrows. If you don’t, you’ll end up with bald spots. It’s not easy to do a comb-over on an eyebrow.

If you don’t like the look of little pieces of bloody toilet paper on your face, wear your clean eyeglasses when plucking those half-inch chin hairs that pop out overnight. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about.

Along this line, wax or at least trim your mustache. (Yes, I know why women get them–but I don’t get why they keep them.)cutting-hair

Rethink cutting your own hair–especially at 3:00 a.m. If you do cut your hair in the wee hours of the morning, do not follow that act with plucking. You won’t like the results, believe me.

Read the directions on how to use a curling iron. Click here to see what could happen.

hairplugsThere’s always a period of time before your roots start to show and your next hair appointment. A temporary solution is to use eye shadow on your roots. (I’d stay away from blue or green.) Again shadow, not mascara. I got the wand caught in my hair. And not eyebrow pencil. Those little pencil marks made me look like I had hair plugs.

Don’t try waxing your armpits. No matter what QVC says about their product, trust me on this one. First, it’s tiring holding your arms up waiting for the wax to dry. Second, your armpit skin is stretchy—and pulling the wax only stretches it further. Do you want saggy armpits? I mean, it might work if you have someone holding your skin while you tug on the wax. But how many people do you know who would hold your armpit? [Never mind, I don’t want to know.]

dsc03767-35x5My final tip is to smile—all the time. No one will guess you still have wax in your armpits. And it’ll distract them from the spots on your blouse and the ticks on your hairline, too.

There are husbands who, indifferent as they are to any words about God, will be captivated by your life of holy beauty. What matters is not your outer appearance—the styling of your hair, the jewelry you wear, the cut of your clothes—but your inner disposition.  Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle, gracious kind that God delights in. ~ 1 Peter 3:2-4 (MSG)