Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts

Wednesday, 20 November 2013

Spring

spring

I speak here of springtime in New Zealand.
*
Of all the seasons of the year
Spring causes me to wonder,
what magic in each dormant seed
awakes, out of itself,
takes root and grows apace.
*
Changing in form to slender stalk,
bearing aloft to Summer suns
a multiplying, delicate, golden spray
ripening to a golden cluster,
making visible the invisible.
*
A picture, of what we’re meant to be,
treading our path from infancy,
onwards to eternity,
experiencing, learning,
widening influence bearing,
the visible made invisible,
in Spring.
*
spring1


Dennis Crompton © 1995
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Go on, feel my breast!


This is a true story, written to describe an event that occurred during my time as a Baptist minister in Auckland, New Zealand.

I was never quite sure what kind of reception I’d receive from the different people I’d visit as minister of the church they attended then; being in the oldest part of the city of Auckland, New Zealand. Most of my calls were to elderly folk who I found entertaining in a variety of ways, for there was a kind of formula to follow, and I couldn’t proceed to the next call on my list until it had been completed. On a few occasions the pattern would take an unexpected twist; this is one of those.

The lady I visited that day was rather well-proportioned who carried all before her, so to speak. I was invited inside with the usual warm smile and breezy comments about the weather, the garden, her husband who was out at the time, and the cat which was too often in. We moved to her spacious lounge, I sank back on a well-cushioned seat and onto stage one of the formula.

We discussed my home and family; the church and its elderly members; her husband, one of the pillars of the church given to outbursts of suggestions for the improvement of the services; the buildings and the membership. An effervescent man, likeable, even when red in the face and dangerously close to bursting a blood vessel as he suggested the line that would be profitable for me and the church to take.

Stage two: tea and dainties time arrived and then with the things cleared away a little later, after a word of prayer together it was time to leave. I made my way to the front door and began my farewells and these were going well when I was stopped by her mentioning her health. Large-bosomed, warm-hearted, carefree lady that she was, she was however a little doubtful about a small lump that had appeared. A lump, my mind thought? She went on: ‘My doctor said it was nothing.’ She wasn’t sure though.

Stage three: ‘They don’t know everything do they’, she said softly, her face coming closer to mine, and, speaking in rather a husky voice came the question:’ What do you think?’ She looked at me, eyes smiling. She didn’t seem to be too worried I thought as she was feeling her left breast. Well part of it, she couldn’t possibly handle all of that at one go I thought. It’s there!’ she said, moving the wobbly item about with her fingers. ‘Not a big lump, but it’s there. Feel it!’  My heart thumped wildly; we’d been warned in our lectures at theological college that things of this nature might happen. We were standing on her front doorstep, clearly visible to the people passing on the main street. My mind filled with pictures of people stopping to watch; maybe they’d get ideas too! Maybe they’d be witnesses later at my trial. What was I to do?

She was smiling: ‘Go on, feel my breast. It’s alright. Just feel it!’ Then my hand seemed suddenly to have a mind of its own, for it did reach out and it did feel something. Whether it was the lump she meant, or thought she had I’ll never know. Thankfully she seemed satisfied with whatever it was I murmured to her about it. I’d complied with her wishes and I found myself walking down the street thinking to myself: ‘I’ve just been invited to touch her beast!’

You’ll be pleased to know that I heard no more about it. I did tell my wife later that day and she dissolved into laughter and fortunately I joined in too. It was too big a burden for me to carry around for the rest of my ministerial life. The lady and lump are both gone, some years ago now and you’ll be interested to know that I was never again asked: ‘What do you think?’ in such an open way again.

Dennis Crompton. © 1995
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Wednesday, 6 November 2013

Beauty


The mind is rather naughty at times, isn’t it? I was at the zoo the other day taking in the back view of an elephant and thinking the skin needed a tuck or three here and there to tighten things up a bit, when a mental picture of Aunt Mildred came into my mind. Now she’s not really like an elephant. Well, not altogether.
There is a similarity in the folds and creases of the skin and those two very large legs. There, you can see what I mean about the mind being naughty? A few days later, the skin came into focus again. A magazine in the doctor’s waiting room presented the importance of the skin and its care, arousing my interest even more.

Later, I went to the library where several encyclopedias gave further enlightenment. Our skin is the waterproof outer covering that helps hold us together. I’d never thought of it like that before. I guess we’d be one big mixed up mess of bones, gristle, hair and what-have-you without it. It also protects us by sending impulses to our brain helping to regulate our body temperature. Its the largest organ of the human body, weighing about six pounds and covers about two square yards. Its thickness varies, depending where on the body it appears. Fantastic really, eh? One last thing and I’m sorry I have to remind you about this. The skin also secretes certain wastes.Which brings us very nicely to the subject of keeping this marvellous stuff clean.

The usual method is to use soap and water. But did you know that soap is the oldest known detergent? It is according to one encyclopedia. Apparently Pliny, around 77AD mentions soap being made from goat tallow boiled with wood ash and water. Ugh! it sounds horrible! Still. Have you noticed how the faces on Greek statues all look so smooth. No pimples, warts or crows-feet on them. Maybe you haven’t looked too closely at the faces of Greek statues. Statues are usually on pedestals, aren’t they? And looking up at them, the eye does tend to look more at other things … yes. Well, art appreciation is a subject I deal with at some length elsewhere.

Now don’t let the word detergent concern you over-much, it is simply a means of making water wetter, so you can breathe a little easier now. Wetter water means that what-ever you use with water penetrates more easily and deeply, as into the pores of the skin. I didn’t discover how deeply it must penetrate to remove all that hidden you-know-what but then, some things are better not known. Oh, and detergent in the water also aids in the dissolving of grease. Now isn’t that wonderful? At this point, perhaps I could offer a word of advice to those whose skin is irritated by soaps. Cut out the soap and don’t use water.

Now for some more good news. We don’t need to use soap and water today, we can use cosmetics. I’m preparing a practical home course offering aids to beauty in a booklet entitled ‘Facials from the Pharmacy’. My husband suggests the more truthful titles ‘Farcical’s from the Pharmacy’, or ‘Beauty at a Price’, would be more appropriate, plebian that he is.

Before we dip into the contents, consider for a moment the array of items displayed in most modern pharmacies today. A colourful range of bottles, creams, powders, lotions and sprays fill the shelves. Some labels claim quite clearly that the contents will soften, cleanse, enrich, colour and enhance your skin. Nearby on the walls, impressive looking diplomas name those on the staff proficient in the advising, use and application of such. They are, more often than not, young and fresh complexioned maids straight from the seventh form of the local high school. Still, it all appears very promising to the person desirous of turning back the clock. There is one drawback, however. Sorry! You’ll need plenty of lolly or failing that, your husband’s credit card. You have neither? There’s a lot of that about too.

Should lack of funds restrict the purchase of such items, all is not lost dear reader. Dab your tear-stained eyes with a piece of soft newspaper, ink-side up, dampened with cold tea, without milk or sugar of course. Your worries are over. Simply by trial and error you could discover from your kitchen garden, compost heap, beach or river bank that certain ingredient which could solve your problem.

My booklet opens with a loose definition of the word ‘cosmetic’; i.e. a substance used to beautify, alter the appearance of, cleanse, soothe or soften the skin. Which is clear enough but a peep into the ingredients of products you may desire, reveals some things you ought to consider. Through the ages, Royal Jelly, as fed to the pupa of the bee, is apparently able to eradicate crow’s feet. Yes! Those lines around the eyes and mouth which, according to some in your family, impart a warmth and grace to the human face are declared ugly and unsightly by the magazines you purchase so eagerly in the search for beauty. Royal Jelly is expensive, damned expensive, but thankfully, female sex hormones can be used instead. Let me whisper at this point … the female hormone estrogen can be obtained from the urine of a pregnant mare. So a quick trip with a bucket to your nearest stables some dark night should save you a bob or two. Further, extracts from the placenta of the water buffalo, or from bullock’s blood has successfully tightened the wrinkles of elderly ladies, somewhere. I did hear that they, the ladies that is, were not nice to be near for a day or two afterwards, which I mention, just in passing.

We come now to the section in my booklet under the heading: Potions from the Pantry, which I predict will prove very popular indeed. A romp through your own pantry and kitchen shelves will present a variety of ingredients useful in applying to the skin. How wonderful to be able to rest behind a face pack of this or that whilst sipping your favourite liquid refreshment, waiting for the moment to discover the rejuvenated you in the privacy of your own home. Application of some home-made facial packs may be made an hour before retiring, or an hour after rising. For one hour in the afternoon or several hours as the case may be. Beauty packs of oatmeal, potato, egg, finely grated carrot or cheese have been found beneficial. The packs may vary in firmness from a thin paste to a thick cakey mix. Experience will tell you the correct proportions and length of time for each. Take care to warn the milkman, husband or partner of the time you intend to undergo the transformation, as the shock of seeing you during your treatment could be rather daunting.

If my slightly twisted sense of humour offends you, please do forgive me, it is meant with the best of intentions. Do allow yourself to break into a smile now and then, you’ll be exercising a number of important muscles in your face, an aid to beauty in itself don’t you know?

© Dennis Crompton 2003
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2012)