Part 16

If one had to choose between being too fat or too lean, the wise woman would certainly take the smaller allowance of flesh. Jack Sprat might incite pleasant ridicule, but Jack Sprat's wife--lo! there would be naught but pity and tears for her! It is better by far to be the butt of jokes concerning "walking shoestrings" or "perambulating umbrella cases" than to waddle through life burdened to death with an excessive amount of flesh. The thin sister can pad out the angles, put frills and puffy things over the bony places, but alas for the fat one! She gets into clothes that are skin-tight, and she draws in her corset string until it snaps and gives at every breath and sneeze, and even then she does not look graceful and pretty, for the fat--like secrets--will out, and it rolls over and around like the little bumps and humps in a pudding bag.

Yet, after all, there's more hope for her than for her sister in misery. While some thin girls might revel in cod liver oil and nearly convert themselves into a hospital storeroom of tonics and fattening foods, they can't get round and rotund--the Lord seems to will it that certain persons are to amble disconsolately through life minus the proper allotment of flesh. But with the overplump lady it all lies within herself as to whether she is to be stout and buxom or of more artistic and beautiful proportions. It is simply a matter of getting up and hustling, a condition of animation frequently foreign to her nature, but not at all impossible to even the most unwieldy.

While a certain careful routine of living is necessary for a speedy change for the better, the two main points to remember are diet and exercise. To the girl who says: "But I can't diet. I get hungry. I love sweets and goodies, and have to have them," I must reply: "Well, then, be fat." What is worth having is worth working for, and the woman who is too fat for her own comfort and personal appearance invariably has ahead of her the dreadful bogy of additional flesh as the years go on. And surely that should be enough to inspire her to mend her ways.

In beginning the change--that is, in starting out on a regular system of dieting and exercising--you should remember that the reform must be worked gradually. One must go slowly into the more healthful manner of living. The severe methods of flesh-reducing cannot be too greatly deplored, and many a woman has lost her life by these extreme measures. I do not mean that they have died at their exercisers or that they fell exhausted because they did not have enough to eat, but that in their mad efforts to become thin quickly they undermined their health and laid a good foundation for physical disorders. Good health, with too much plumpness, is preferable to beautiful proportions and the listlessness and pain of ill health. So you can follow my advice with the greatest safety, as health--to my way of thinking--is greater than beauty, for the last depends upon the first, invariably.

To-morrow, when you get up, throw on a loose, warm wrapper, and then open the window. Stand in the cool, crisp morning air, and expand your lungs a dozen times, holding your hands on your hips and raising yourself lightly on your toes. Vary this by walking across the room, taking long, full breaths from the abdomen. This practice is equally good for the thin girl, or any other kind of a girl, for that matter. After airing your lungs close the window and run into the bath-room, where you should have a quick sponge bath, rubbing the body briskly with a heavy towel. A quick alcohol rub can follow, just as one pleases. For breakfast let there be fresh uncooked fruit, especially oranges. Tea or coffee must be taken clear, as neither milk nor sugar should be indulged in by the beauty patient whose chief ambition it is to lose flesh. Toast must always be eaten instead of bread, and butter used sparingly at all times. Avoid fats, starchy cereals, flesh-producing vegetables and pastries. This is very simple, when you once make up your mind to it. Do not fancy you are thus left with nothing whatever to eat--like Mother Hubbard's unhappy dog. Meats, either cold or broiled, are good if eaten in moderation. Poultry, fish and game are all right. Asparagus, string beans, spinach and tomatoes are the most appetizing of vegetables, and in these four alone there will be sufficient variety, especially when salads of all sorts are included, although these must, of course, be taken without oil. Young onions are also excellent, as are condiments, dried fruits and acidulated drinks. A hot lemonade, taken every night, is good, but it must have little sugar, else the effects of the acid will be overbalanced.

As for exercise, walking is best of all. Running is very beneficial, but the unique witticisms of the average small boy will probably keep this form of exercise confined strictly to the house. Begin by walking half a mile for several days, then make the distance a mile, and keep increasing your daily walk until you cover at least five miles. That may sound like an impossibility, but don't you believe it, for it's not at all. In Great Britain a walk of fifteen miles is not considered half an effort, and who does not know that the English girls have the most superb complexions in the world? Besides this, they are healthy, wholesome, well-developed women, and that counts a good deal in the race for beauty. If the five-mile walk is too exhausting, then take a longer time getting to the point, when it will be exhilarating instead of enervating.

Sleep must be limited to seven hours, and daily naps are strictly tabooed. To those who prefer, mechanical massage can be given, and this will take the place of long walks, although they are really preferable, as the fresh air is necessary. Oxygen destroys or burns out carbon, and carbon is fat. The more exercise and fresh air, the more oxygen, and consequently destruction of fat by the one healthy means of remedying obesity. Soda phosphates and the various fat-reducing preparations are not desirable. The only way to cajole willowiness of body into coming in your direction is to diet and to take plenty of exercise. Do not drink much water. A little lemon juice added to it will make it less fattening.

There, now, plump lady, are your rules! Abide by them and your woes will surely disappear with a swiftness that will make you laugh.

THE WORKING GIRL

"Labor is life!--'Tis the still water faileth; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth; Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth."

--Mrs. Frances S. Osgood.

It has often occurred to me that there are a vast number of plucky little bread-winning girls and women to whom even a tiny jar of creme marquise is a hopeless impossibility. For them is this chapter written.

In the first place, we all feel pretty sure that--in the great, wonderful beginning of things--it was never meant that women should work. We can't help knowing this when we look about us every night at six o'clock and see the weary, patient, brave little faces that line either side of the elevated trains or the crowded street cars. Women are not given to the solving of problems, so we won't go into the great "whys" or the "wherefores." That's a loss of time anyhow. But we will do heaps better than that. We will try to be hopeful and cheery, and learn how to make the best of the little happinesses that do come our way.

The working girl--and we all take off our hats to her pluck--needs more than any other class of womankind to take care of her health. She is out in all kinds of weather, she works hard, and ofttimes struggles through a daily routine that is harrowing beyond everything. After hours there is mending to be done, or a thousand and one little duties to keep her busy until, tired out and nerve-weary, she goes to bed to gain rest and strength for the struggles of the morrow. She cannot afford the little luxuries of the toilet that are so dear and near to the heart of womankind the world over. The joys of having her hair "done" or her pretty cheeks massaged are not hers--and the pity of it is that often enough the fault lies not within herself, but in the unhappy circumstances of fate that have placed her among the less fortunate sisterhood.

Let a large bar of castile soap be the working girl's first investment. I say a "large" bar for the reason that it is much cheaper when bought that way. A good-sized piece of the pure white castile can be bought at some of the drug stores for fifteen or twenty cents. This should be cut into small cakes and put on a high shelf, where it will become dry and hard and so it will be more lasting. With plenty of warm water, a few good wash-rags and this pure soap you will have a beauty outfit that will be more beneficial than all the rouges and eyebrow pencils that were ever put into the windows of beauty shops.

The bath should be daily. Now do not say that you have not the time, for the sponge bath--which will make the blood tingle and the flesh glow--can be got through with in almost no time. It is most imperative that the secretions of the skin and the dust gathered during the day should be removed. When the body is not kept scrupulously clean the complexion is sure to suffer, for there the pores of the skin are most susceptible, and eruptions and blackheads come from very slight causes. When the hands become rough and tender, and will not stand soap, prepare a little almond meal. This, too, is very inexpensive, for, instead of the powdered almonds, you can use the pressed almond cake, which is nearly as good and very cheap, and in place of the orris root wheat flour can be used. Take three ounces of the first and seven of the latter. If you can afford it, add a little powdered talcum. A cream for the face and hands, and one which can be used with perfect safety, is benzoinated mutton tallow. This is simply the best mutton tallow to which benzoin has been added, and both ingredients kept at a steady heat until the alcohol of the benzoin has been completely evaporated.

About the hair: The greatest secret of luxuriant locks is absolute cleanliness. There are many women who vainly fancy that they keep their pretty locks perfectly clean, when they really do not at all. Only plenty of running water can thoroughly rinse the soap or shampoo out. If the hair is at all sticky, or if a slight oily substance adheres to the comb, then the hair is not clean. (And let me say right here, combs and brushes too must be kept as scrupulously clean as the hair itself.) Castile soap makes the best shampoo in the world, especially when a little piece is dissolved in warm water and a tiny bit of ammonia or alcohol added, although for dry hair neither the alcohol nor ammonia is at all necessary. If a tonic is needed, then use the sage tea, which, however, must not be put on light, blond tresses. Common kerosene, if one can endure the odor, is an unsurpassed remedy for falling hair. Rubbing the scalp every night with the finger tips until the flesh tingles and glows is a most inexpensive way of stimulating the circulation, and frequently makes the hair grow long and nice and fine.

What one eats plays such a leading part in the beauty-getting efforts--but I have but little space left now to tell about that. Summed up in a nutshell, it is this: Eat very little pastry, and shun greasy foods or fat meats, like pork or bacon. Pin your faith to vegetables and fruit. A luncheon of two apples is of greater nourishment, and more, real value to good looks, than a repast of mince pie and coffee--two unspeakable horrors to any one who regards health and beauty as worth the having or the striving for.

As for the dress, I could write a seven volume treatise on that. It sounds prosy, I know, and very stupid, but let me tell you that it is the wise girl who buys for comfort, utility and wear, instead of style and elaborateness. A plain little fedora, if well brushed, makes a trimmer, neater appearance than a cheap velvet hat ornamented with feathers that have straightened out and flowers that have long since lost their glory in the rains and storms of autumn time. It is the same way with shoes and gloves. If one can possibly afford it, calfskin boots and heavy gloves should always be purchased. They will not only outwear two or three pairs of the lighter, less durable kind, but they will give warmth and comfort and a well-groomed look as well.

THE NERVOUS ONE

"The beautiful seems right by force of beauty; and the feeble wrong because of weakness."--Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Of all the unfortunates on the face of the globe there is none so worthy of real all-wool pity and yard-wide sympathy as the woman of nerves. Yes, and her family needs a dash of consolation, too. One nervous woman can create more nervousness among other women than could a cageful of mice or a colony of cows suddenly let loose. It is not for herself that the fuss-budget should mend her ways, but for the great good of humanity at large.

We are all of us more or less nervous, and it is really interesting to observe what strange outlets woman's natural nervousness chooses.

"I'd walk from Hyde Park to the city hall at midnight and never be a bit scared. But let me stay in the flat alone after dark and I'm in a state of terror that would make you weep were you to behold me," confesses nervous lady No. 1.

"I have nerves of iron," pipes up nervous lady No. 2. "Except when there is a thunderstorm. Then I wish I were as dead as Julius Caesar."

"Well!" drawls nervous lady No. 3. "I don't believe in ghosts at all, but I'm scared to death of 'em. Sometimes I not only keep the gas burning all night, but I sit up in bed so as to be right ready to run away from 'em."

Some people have contempt for the nervous ones. I have only pity. Any one who has gone through the tortures of hearing imaginary burglars three nights in the week for ten or twelve years on an endless stretch needs consolation and then a good, straight talk on the beautiful convenience of horse sense. Most women are always hearing burglars. Probably one in a thousand turns out to be a real, live housebreaker. Whenever the wise woman hears one fussing with the lock on the front door or trying to squeeze into the pantry window, she just says: "Same old burglar. He'll be gone in the morning," and he always is. That's a heap better plan than arousing the household and suffering the unmerciful torture that a family given to ridicule can inflict.

I heard a woman say the other day that she never knew what it was to be nervous until a certain ragman began to take pedestrian exercises up and down the alley back of her house. He carries a canvas bag over his shoulder, and he yells "Eny ol' racks" until that woman locks herself in a closet and stuffs sofa cushions into her ears. His "Eny ol' racks" has got on her nerves so that she is simply beside herself until that man takes himself and his yell out of hearing distance. To be sure, he yells through his nose, but why in the world that woman should make herself miserable about something she can't possibly help is a double-turreted mystery to me. The thing for her to do is to sit down placidly on the back porch and make up her mind that the ragman is not going to upset the tranquillity of her existence; that he hasn't any right to interfere with her happiness, and that she isn't going to be fool enough to let him. I'll wager a peseta against a gum drop that she could do it, too, and without half an effort, if she would only once be consistent and determined.