A Glimpse into Charlottes Restrained

Many of you know that I am in the process of writing a book. The process goes something like this: write, write, write; then have people read, read, read. I receive their feedback and then I oscillate between read, edit, write, read, edit, write, write, write. You know the next part... people read, I edit and rewrite some more.

I've become convinced that you can become addicted to your book and want it to be absolutely and perfectly polished before submitting it to agents and publishing companies. So, I have taken another leap and have begun the search for the best agent for me and the book. (In order to address my addiction I have begun the process of writing a second book.)

I thought you might enjoy a glimpse into the book. Due to legal reasons I have had to remove a public individuals name. Please insert the name of your favorite leading man!

Thanks for reading!!

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

“[Favorite leading man] lawyers are on the phone,” Taylor jumped backwards from the Caller ID display as if the lawyers on the other end could see her. “Don’t tell me you violated the restraining order again,” she whispered, apparently still worried someone might sense her. “I told you! I told you! I told you! We do not need this now! Not this week.” Taylor said while stabbing the air with her finger.

Whether to answer the call from Mead Jameson and Kelly or not was not the decision, there was only one thing to do, call [favorite leading man] and ask him what was happening. As I tapped my teeth with a freshly manicured finger tip, I pondered for the millionth time how he could have misunderstood me. I still felt really annoyed by his arrogant assumptions about me.

The continued ringing of the phone returned me to reality, where I promptly decided what to do. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“What? How can you go for a shower, shouldn’t you pack a suitcase and get out of here?” Taylor's voice now squawking.

“Listen, I’m going to take a shower, give [favorite leading man] a call, and everything will be fine! Liz promised.” I said, as if this would allay all her fear. Realizing now was not the time to fill her in on my plan I waved an arm and closed the bathroom door.

It was all simple enough, I thought, as I washed my hair. I had seen [favorite leading man] the previous day having lunch at The Volstead, a mid-town bar. As I was leaving, I had to walk past his table, so I said hello. We exchanged stilted pleasantries regarding our health and the weather. As we said our good-byes I told him I was sorry to hear that he and Jemima had split up. Then I left and came home.

Technically I did violate the restraining order by coming within 500 feet of him. Technically I did violate the restraining order by talking to him. But he didn’t seem frightened or perturbed.

Pulling back the shower curtain and reaching for a towel to wrap around my hair, I had the sudden realization that I had made a tactical error in not answering the phone.

I rushed through the routine of lotions, potions, spritzes and sprays! “Did they phone again?” I called to Taylor, while finishing up my routine.

“No, you still have a chance to get out of here before the police arrive!” She anxiously yelled from the living room.

I raced to my bedroom closet, “Come here and help me pick out something to wear,” I called back. My earlier bravado had been replaced by total confusion. I was suddenly unable to make any important decisions by myself.

While I was digging out underwear, Taylor entered the room emitting an aura of panic, a dark haze. “Listen Charlotte, come sit down beside me,” she said as she patted the bed. “We really need to talk about your situation with [favorite leading man].”

Anxious to calm both of us, I blew out a deep breath and said with more confidence than I felt, “Look, I know it’s bad timing and if your mother finds out I am completely screwed, but I am going to get to the bottom of all of this. I might be able to get my life back!”

She gazed at me, her blue eyes saying it all, “You poor deluded girl.”

Hairy Heroines

I was performing my morning ablutions recently, those that I have done for what seems my entire life, when I made the sudden decision, “I’m not shaving my legs! Nope, I-am-not!!” Why not? I have no real idea, but it did start me down the path of wondering when the concept of hairlessness became chic, sexy, and necessary.



Me being me, I went looking for insight into the mystery of shaving and hair removal. I was spurred on by the knowledge that never have I read an author who has written, “He gently held her face in his hands and delighted in feeling the prickle of chin hairs.”



I got a real giggle when I imagined Elizabeth Bennett, (the heroine in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen), having really hairy legs under her chemise. The thought of silk stockings matting down hair made me wonder if conventions had allowed for it, whether Jane Austen might have written:

Whilst attempting to come to terms with the embarrassment and potential ridicule that her sister Lydia had brought upon her family by provoking Mr. Bingley to host a ball, Elizabeth assisted in the preparations of the depilatory supply for her family. Being of lean means, it had taken some time for their father to procure the necessary items, but now having done so, the Bennett women set about, with Hill’s assistance, the process of chopping smoked oak into white French wine, to be digested in a hot water or vapor bath for 24 hours. Though she was alone in her preference, Elizabeth preferred another recipe which called for distilled water and celandine roots, and walnut oil which was then applied to the hair directly. She could contrive no purpose or reasoning for wasting the perfectly palatable white wine.

It turns out that many websites are dedicated to the history of hair removal. Ancient Neanderthal man removed facial hair with tweezers made from clam shells, volcanic rock and flint stone. Ancient Greeks used fire to singe the hair off and during the Middle Ages women in Europe wore very large and outrageous headdresses, so they removed all hair from their heads including eyebrows and eyelashes in order to be chic.

To be honest I was hoping for a different history. I enjoyed the idea that hairlessness was a contemporary focus and that we had applied our ideals liberally. I liked thinking that Cleopatra actually had bushy armpits (Nope! Depilatory cream was made out of dung, arsenic, and olive oil), and that characters from pre nineteenth century literature were hairy beings which we had idealized into sleek and slippery creatures. I find it quite curious that humans instinctively sought to remove body hair and that we have now taken it to a level where we airbrush it off in photos. We no longer even have hair follicles.

Whether portrayed by Colin Firth or Matthew Macfadyen I go back to musing about Elizabeth Bennett and wonder what Mr. Darcy would say upon glimpsing her hairy legs for the first time, “Dearest loveliest Elizabeth, would you like me to get you a pumice stone?” (Oh yes they did.)

As for me, the last time I made a major hair statement was the year I was 23. I played hours and hours of Ultimate Frisbee and hung out with the disc throwing, tie dye wearing, and grunge music listening employees of Microsoft. Being sweaty, hairy and dejected held a certain lure for me. It was a new look; one that allowed me meld into my new boyfriends life.

I went one year without shaving my legs! One year! To cut the saga short, I decided that I was over having hairy legs, shaved one and then I remembered why I had quit shaving. I then kept one leg shaved and had one leg hairy for about six months. This received more notice than when I had two legs as hairy as Sasquatch. Finally I worked up the enthusiasm and shaved the other and have kept to the once a day habit until recently.

I wouldn’t mind losing the hair follicles!

My Very First Blog!

The concept of people reinventing themselves has long since been a fascination of mine. Why do some people change their lives on a regular basis and others fear any change at all? There are those who’ve had the same hair style since 1972 and then others who change person to person, group to group – chameleons.

I am an official military brat. I have a great deal of experience in reinventing myself; creating a new look, adapting my vocabulary to incorporate the ‘in’ slang words, or dabbling in different groups. I knew I would be moving anyway, so I could try being the perky cheerleader at one school, the gloomy rocker chick at another, or perhaps even the penny loafer wearing brainiac at the next. If it didn’t work, it didn’t matter, there would always be another opportunity.

During my first 13 years of public education I attended seven different schools, resided in ten different houses in three countries and five states. Over the next 13 years I attended two colleges, changed degrees six times, and resided in seven different houses.

When I was twelve years old my father was ordained in the Roman Catholic Church as a Deacon. The role of PK (Preachers Kid) was thrust upon me and gave me even greater opportunity to explore and observe the public versus private sides to people’s lives. It was through this avenue that I learned how much power I could have. If there was a dance at the high school on Friday night parents would call to see if my siblings and I were going; if the answer was yes, then they would let their kids attend, if we weren't then no. I was either profoundly popular or a dismal disappointment.

So where has all this taken me? Well, all over the place really. I’ve travelled extensively, had amazing opportunities just handed to me, held some interesting jobs (I never truly sought a career; born out of fear I might miss ‘a road less travelled’), and when I finally felt somewhat grown up at the age of 30, I married the love of my life.

Since then, we have lived in two countries, moved seven times, had two children, and have had two cats that we returned when we realized we weren’t pet people.

Recently I have shelved other passions to pursue writing novels. Not a path for the faint of heart. It never occurred to me that I couldn’t write the book; it was around page 213 that I realized I was going to have to try and publish this thing. I'm really excited about the book and the journey it has taken me on. I’ll let you know how the publishing process goes.

So, Woman Reinvents Self is a combination of the questions I find myself puzzling over and how they evolve into fictional characters… for example, why do some women still have bouffant hair do’s? Why do some women put their mascara on so thick that they have fuzzy clumping eyelashes? Why do some people rush to grow up and others never at all?

The polls will change week to week… I find the possibility of gaining insight into the world through your answers tremendously exciting.

Thanks for reading!