Cherries in Winter: My Family's Recipe for Hope in Hard Times by Suzan Colón Page B

her with beauty editors in the magazine industry. My defense for the still-high expenditure was that with my curly/wavy/frizzy hair I needed an expert. Also, I saved money on hair color since I was letting my greys come in, hoping to fulfill my childhood dream of having hair like Nana’s.
    I got no such discounts on skincare products, but I had sensitive skin that needed two special cleansers, one with pineapple and papaya for morning, and a creamy one for evening, along with an oil-free moisturizer for summer and a heavier one for winter. After that, what was another seventeen dollars for a good, alcohol-free toner?
    My signature scent was an eau de toilette that goes for a relatively inexpensive fifty bucks per ounce. I changed it a few summers ago, and one day Nathan hugged me and suddenly looked sad. “I didn’t recognize you,” he said. “You smell different.” I ran back tothe perfume counter and bought two bottles of the old fragrance.
    Every six weeks or so was Eyebrow Day at the magazine, when an expert would come into the office to tweeze and shape our brows. As with most questionable indulgences, the first taste was free, but after that I cheerfully handed over forty dollars every time the plucker lady came to visit.
    During especially hectic deadline weeks, I might treat myself to a massage at the health club that was very conveniently located in our office building.
    Doing these things, and having the money to do them in the first place, made me feel like I’d arrived. But there was a limit; I always did my own pedicures. I didn’t see the point in spending twenty bucks at the salon when I did a better job myself.
    • • •
    DECEMBER 2008
    HUDSON COUNTY, NEW JERSEY
    Just as my eating habits changed when I stopped having lunch in the company cafeteria, my beauty routine has been modified somewhat now that I’m self-employed(which sounds so much better than
un
employed). In December I had one last salon hurrah with a hairdresser—note title change—who charged half of what my old stylist did even after my discounts. These days I wait until I get the five-dollars-off coupon at the drugstore before I buy my new, cheap skincare products, which, to my surprise and chagrin, work just as well as the expensive stuff. (Mom is also cutting back wherever she can, but she’s not going along with me on this one: “I’d rather go without food than my face cream.”) Every other week or so is Eyebrow Day at my home office, where I pluck anything that strays outside of what I remember the expert’s outline was for my brows. I have bangs now, so no one can see them anyway if I make a mistake. I still make appointments for massages, and they’re very conveniently located in my building—right on our couch. While Nathan watches
Frontline
, he’ll grab my home-pedicured feet and knead my arches and toes for a while. It’s heavenly, and far more pleasurable than being Rolfed by a stranger.
    Unfortunately, my hair is getting shaggy right around the same time that my cat Tootsie’s teeth are about to rot right out of her head.
    In the past, these two events would have been completely unrelated. Now, with things being what they are, I can make an appointment with my hairdresser, or I can make an appointment with my veterinarian. But I feel like I can’t afford both.
    (I pause here for a moment for a perspective check. There are a lot of people who can’t afford to get their
own
teeth fixed right now, much less their animals’. I feel very fortunate that we have enough money to keep all the teeth in our house, whether human or feline, present and accounted for.)
    Of course, there’s no decision to be made. I’d give up my hair appointments forever and become the Wild Woman of Borneo before I’d let my cat be in pain or even have to forgo the crunchy kibble she likes so much. Nor will I repurpose my monthly donations to the ASPCA and the local food bank for this expense. I’ve had to cut down on the amount I