Monday, March 26, 2007

I'm not her

Despite my best intentions, I am NOT this woman. Wondrous or not, I fall short of the goal of having my hair done just so, my purse coordinated with my top, my granny bloomies exposed in a symmetrical fashion, and my "lariat of truth" neatly coiled and ready at my side.

Cause, y'all, that stuff takes a LOT of work.

A lotalot.

I am not made of the stuff that can get that kind of "all there" look put together and out the door in anything less than the time it takes to 1) do something awful to my hair with a seldom-used blow dryer and vent brush, 2) nearly set the house ablaze with the Aqua Net and hot rollers I use to try to fix the blow dryer mistakes 3) bring myself to tears of frustration trying to zip into the costume, 4) get all hot and crabby when the tiara won't slide on correctly, and 5) throw something at the wall when I realize that I forgot to put on my ultra-support hose BEFORE donning my fabuloso costume of powah.

Therefore, you will NOT see me traipsing down the street in heels and hose and high hair anytime soon. I'm much more the "solids go with other solids, even when they're shades of BLACK" kind of female, not prone to making many more mistakes with pantyhose or hot rollers or pointy-toes pumps that look like they could be used as an instrument of death if one was properly provoked.

It's not that I don't ADMIRE that look, I really do, because it's all girly and sexy and stuff, but it's simply not me. I've given it up to the point that I don't even own clothing that could get me within shouting distance of that look anymore - also, there are no "heels" in my closet (because, for Pete's sake, I'm tall enough already!), no hose in my lingerie drawer (except those thigh-high things that aren't really thigh high because of the tall thang, but I keep anyhow because even though they DO roll down some they're more comfy that the pantyhose of sweaty death), my makeup kit can fit in a sandwich bag, I don't own rollers, and a fair number of the things I DO wear could probably fit an extra person in them while I'm wearing them.

How did it get like this?

Easy - I've pretty much always been this way. Oh, I struggled with fashion in college for a while, but truly I was the girl who wore shorts under her skirts in grade school so she could swing on the monkey bars. I was the girl who would rather hunt bugs then have a tea party. I was the girl who cried when she was given her first Bonne Bell lip gloss. I was the girl who would rather have blended into the woodwork than be noticed. I was the girl who didn't understand most any girly stuff that girls of my age were doing, back in the day.

Yes, yes, in college I spent many an hour in front of the mirror, maximizing my potential. It was tedious and took a long time to get just right, and once you did get it just right you had to spend the rest of the night maintaining the look instead of having a good time. Heaven help you if the spiky hair should fall flat or the heavy eyeliner should smear or if your shoes got beer on them. DISASTER! It was tiring. I soon switched to hippie chic and Vans, never ONCE looking back.

Marriage and children and career took whatever notions I had of being well-kitted out and threw them right into the trash. My goal was to show up for work or other public appearances clean and brushed. A little mascara and blush and I was out the door.

Recently, I've even given up on the blush. I have, however, added eyebrow pencil and lipgloss, putting my total "beauty regimen" time at about 1.5 minutes.

Is it true that when I
see a well put-together woman, I get a momentary twinge of jealousy, a tiny hint of "wow she looks great."

Then it passes, because, the way I figure it, I'm the one who got to sleep that extra hour this morning, while she was struggling into her hose and pointy shoes while spraying the pilial architecture atop her cranium and preparing to apply the first layer of facial spackle.

More power to you, Wonder Woman - it takes all kinds. Just wake me up ten minutes before you're ready to go, and I'll be showered and ready when you are.


I suspect that most of y'all who come by here are fairly minimalistic in your daily regimen of public preparedness, much like I am.

For example - I must shower. I MUST brush my teeth (no skippies! Gum isn't a substitute!). I MUST use the tip of Q. I MUST moisturize. I MUST wear shoes that match the general color tone of at least one of the articles of clothing I'm wearing (and yes, I make sure all the bits and pieces are well covered). Other than that, I'm flexible.

What about you? What MUST you do before leaving the house? Give us the rundown, won't you?

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