It is 3 p.m. and I just took a shower (wow...2 days in a row!) which often happens late in the day and many days not at all. Any mom can relate to this. The thing that struck me though, and led to today's thought of the day was that it actually took me about 20 minutes to get dressed. Most of this time was spent trying on jewelry, putting on make-up, and messing with my hair until I finally decided to put a cute pin in it. And where was I going? To bring my daughter to an appointment. That's it. One person other than my family was going to see me, and yet I still did it. Crazy, I know. I NEVER would have done that before. Before, at least a dozen people laying eyes on me was the minimum criteria for getting dressed in actual clothes (not sweats or pajama's that kind of looked liked clothes) and it took ALOT more people than that to warrant make-up!
Anyone who knew me before last year probably will find that hilarious, because prior to last year I easily could have been the 'before' person on 'What Not To Wear'. I never really cared about what I looked like, especially if I was just running errands.
Now don't get me wrong...I often go to the grocery store still sweaty from the gym because it's right on the way, but the fact is, now I actually put some effort into getting dressed. Pretty much every day. Why? Last year I decided to lose some weight and actually DID IT! I lost about 20 pounds and 2 sizes. ("Hey, I did that? I completed something? Huh.")
With a new body I had to get some new clothes. I put it off as long as I could, but when I started using rope to hold up my pants, I finally broke down and went to Marshall's. ("You know, I guess while I'm here it wouldn't hurt to try on some funky, fun clothes.")
So, now I had a few funky clothes, but my hair was still in that ponytail from 1988. (I admit I even had a scrunchy, but I tried not to use it too often.) I went to the hairdresser with some photos of cute, respectable bobs. Stuck at the bottom, the waaaay bottom, was one of Halle Berry with that super-short hair. She just looked so gorgeous in that short hair. Same with Demi Moore in Ghost. I've always loved that look, but not on me. Not since the Dorothy Hamill hack job in 1977. It traumatized me.
"That one!!" my hairdresser screamed. She started dancing up and down.
"What?! But Halle has a gorgeous face...she can pull it off. I definitely don't look like Halle." I wimpered.
"No, but your face isn't weird or grotesque or anything." (Was that a compliment?...I'm not sure.) After a few minutes of her pleading and dancing like she was going to pee on the floor, I told her to go for it.
"Really?! Really, really?" She could hardly contain herself. I'm thinking this kind of permission is like telling my 7-year old she can sit in the front seat without a seat belt while eating an ice cream cone. (Which by the way would NEVER happen.)
"Sure. Why not?" I say glibly. I'm so brave. I'm such a chic chick. Then the cutting begins.
She's done. I look up. I HATE IT.
"Do you love it?!" She asks.
"It's short." I say. "I just have to get used to it." I add as her face falls. ('It'll grow back and hats are in fashion, kinda.' I think)
When I get home, I wet it, mess it up, look in the mirror, and then I laugh. Wow. That's short. So what! I'll have fun with it. I start to like it. And then I grow to love it after a few days. I now have a hair style?! Weird concept. But I kinda look like a boy, so here comes the makeup. My mom is THRILLED.
"Are you wearing LIPSTICK?!" she exclaims. She's as excited as the hairdresser was. It's been a goal of hers for years to get me to wear make-up... and to go all the way to lipstick?! That's just icing on that cake. She loves it. And you know...so do I. I feel kind of, well, pretty.
So anyway, after all this rambling I'll get to the thought of the day:
It feels good to look nice.
People always told me this. TV shows and magazine articles always told me this. My MOTHER always told me this. But I never believed it made much of a difference. 'Take me as I am world, ripped sweats and all, and if you don't like it then you can go to HECK!' was my attitude. (I'm trying to keep it nice and clean here, folks). And the world did take me as I was. So that was good. But now I want the world to say, "Hey, you look DAMN GOOD, sister!" (well, I can't keep it totally clean. I have my father's side of the family in me big time, and they are all straight from the 'Academy of Filthy Mouths'.) It only took me 40 years to get to this point. I guess I'm growing up. This lipstick's for you, mom!
Here's a photo of that cute hair clip. I HATE pictures of myself but I'm going to try to get over it. It's like taking speech class when you hate public speaking...just gotta make yourself get up there and face the music because every time you do it, it gets a little less horrible.
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