Not that I don’t appreciate the compliments. I really do. I probably appreciate them more in this state of being than when I actually put a lot of physical effort into my appearance before going anywhere. When you put more than an hour into your appearance, you better dang well get a compliment or two, otherwise what in the hell were you doing with your time?
Here’s how this afternoon went: I get out of the shower, blow dry my hair, straighten it…the usual routine when I’m going about a normal working day. I had the vision of what I wanted to wear to work all figured out in my noggin. I would wear my gray pencil skirt with my emerald-green satin top (the one with the black polka-dots and the black sash right under the bust), and my trusty black pumps. I slide on the skirt and everything is looking good. It’s when I slide on the top I start to feel less than stellar.
For one, my boobs must have grown 10x since the last time I wore this particular top. The black sash which is supposed to go underneath my bustline? It didn’t go under my bustline. It went right across the middle of my chest, cutting my twins in half. If you’ve ever seen this done to your set of twins, you know how highly unattractive a look it is. So, the logical thing? I pull the top down, hoping to adjust it to its proper place. It wouldn’t budge. So, I reached inside the V-neck of this shirt and adjust myself with my hands, thinking maybe this would do the trick.
Boy, did it ever. I suddenly had cleavage like never before. Sooooo not appropriate for the place I needed to be at in less than 20 minutes.
What’s a girl to do other than to rip off the green shirt with the black polka-dots and tear through her closest for the next best option for her attire? I put on my favorite gray short-sleeved suit coat…it made me look wide through the middle. I put on my favorite purple multi-tiered layered camisole with my black sweater shrug…it made my look pregnant. Tried to put together a simple all-black outfit…except all of them required to wear heels and with a wedding happening at my workplace, I wasn’t about to run a wedding marathon in the high heels I would have to wear with these particular ensembles.
Finally I reached the point where I had to put on some clothes or be really late for work. So, I grabbed the first two things I saw that matched each other, slid on my flats, and dashed out the door.
Rewind a little bit here, too. Before the whole “what do I wear?” debacle, I was complaining to my roommate how I have boring hair. Boring in the sense that I always wear it the same way. It’s either half-up with bobby pins to get my bangs out of my face, all the way up into a ponytail to get the hair off my neck, or it’s down in a simple straight ‘do. It’s so boring!, I explained. I need to learn how to put my hair up in fun ways.
Like, some girls can do a successful messy bun.
I can’t do that.
Some know how to braid the front parts of their hair in fun ways, and loop them around to their ponytail/bun up do.
I can’t do that.
Others know how to roll the ends of their hair up and around so they have this rolled/coiled look going on. Very classy looking, in my opinion.
I can’t do that.
So, as I stared at my lifeless hair after straightening it for the one millionth time in my life, I knew I wanted it off my neck. It was a warm day, and I was already sweating just thinking about the prep work I’d be doing once I arrived at work. My solution? The half-updo it was. My roommate saw me, and remarked, “We decided on boring again today, huh?”
Apparently, I’m a sweaty AND boring blob of a person. It doesn’t help that a giant M&M cookie is staring me in the face right now.
“One seeks new friends only when too well-known by old ones.”
In this instance, when contemplating the words of Madame de Puisieux, the French epigrammist, I know I need to find new friend with not just good hair. They need to have GREAT hair, and I need to find out their tricks of the trade.
Let’s be real here. It’s not just with their hair….it’s with their overall look. How they put simple, yet elegant outfits together in the blink of an eye and simply by pulling things from their closest. How they step out of the shower, let their hair do whatever the hell it wants, run a squirt of some magical hair gel through the palms of their hands and over their scalp, and voila! Magnificent hair!
I want to have hair like that!
I used to think my hair was capable of doing two things, and these things dictated the way I would do it. 1.) I would get in the way of my vision and could be detrimental to whatever I happened to be doing at that moment. If I’m returning a fast spin serve on the tennis courts, or sketching a nearby tree, or people watching at the park, or attempting to read a sign while driving down the highway so I don’t get lost in the middle of a giant freaking city. I could be in the middle of a massive lightsaber fight, but wouldn’t you know it? My hair gets in my face, I can’t respond to a move, and I’m suddenly without an arm for the rest of my life.
All because of my stupid head of hair.
Mostly because of my athletic tendencies, I always wore my hair up and out of my face. Plus, it’s really easy to do your hair fresh out of the shower. Especially when its a 100+ degree day in the summer time. Have you ever milked cows in a sweltering barn with your hair falling in tumbles down your back and shoulders? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
The second thing my hair is capable of doing? Seduction. If done and played with correctly, a woman’s hair can be the gateway to a man’s bare instincts and animatistic tendencies. You can drive a man wild just by the way you do your hair, or simply by sweeping your hair off your neck, revealing the vulnerable and lovely nape of the neck. Flirting with one’s hair….it’s still a technique I’m working on. I don’t think you can hate your hair 350 days out of the year and have this technique mastered.
On top of everything else today, I tied 60-some blue satin bows on the back of chairs needed for this wedding’s ceremony, and people only sat in them for 30 minutes. Once the ceremony was over, the chairs with my decadent bows were abandoned.
Ah, the fruits of ones labors.
I hope your weekends are going just as awesome as mine. Minus the feeling like a blob part.
I don’t wish that upon anyone.