When does the makeup come off?

I had a conversation with my guy the other day. I asked him if he minded me not wearing a lot of makeup. I used to never leave the house without layers of it on. Sometime in college I stopped wearing it either for 'making my life easier' or because I got lazy. My hair was always perfect and I kept hair spray in my purse. Now I use it maybe once a month if ever and as for makeup, maybe a little lipstick and mascara but that is it... He says he doesn't mind, but I wonder.

There's something about the freedom of 'wash n'go' that our society loves. We've learned to cut corners in order to economize out time. I wonder where all the time we saved actually went. I think its out there hiding with all the lost socks, lost keys, and lost minds.
 

Umbrella Anyone?

Do you carry an umbrella? Being prepared is always a good thing even if most of the time it is inconvenient. I used to carry those folded plastic rain bonnets because my grandmother used to carry them too. Come to think of it I used to carry cough drops for the same reason.
I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that things I used to do "just in case" I stopped doing a long time ago. Why? I honestly think I've determined that the law of averages showed me it was better to be prepared on days when I knew rain was coming. Otherwise I'd be carrying tons of stuff everyday, hunched over and grumbling. Or better yet, become a hermit and never leave the stuff! Yeah, I'd probably be the hermit (grin). I like being prepared. Years ago when I still volunteered every summer to work at camp, I was the dorm mom who had extras of everything. One year I realized people had stopped bringing as much stuff because they knew I would have it if needed. I think that's when I began to reduce the level of stuff I'd allow myself to bring.

It felt nice to be needed but honestly the work involved didn't balance well with the little appreciation it received. I'd stopped doing it for me...

Now I weigh the balance to see if it's worth the effort to be prepared or just 'wing it'. Did that come with age or experience? I'm not sure, but I do know that I don't stoop over with the weight of expectation anymore. What happens, happens and I'm happy to just be alive, in love, and healthy....and find that stick of gum I've been digging for in my purse!

Short Haired Old Women

I was sitting in a restaurant (yes I was alone) reading and eating from a buffet when a thought occurred to me. I've been growing out my hair again and I found it much more of a burden to primp and style than when I was young. So the natural train of thought moved too 'do others as they get older trim their hair to shorter lengths'? A brief survey of the room confirmed that there were no older ladies in the room with hair longer than the bottom of their ears.

I then scanned for younger women and sure enough, the younger the person, the longer the hair. Have I stumbled onto a psychological surety in our society? I wasn't sure so I started up a conversation with a woman who was sitting nearby. Her reasons were multiple but when boiled down really only meant it looked better and was easier to maintain.

Perhaps the hair thing is more about learning to be more efficient as we get older. I remember when I was young and worked for hours on my hair to get it to look 'just so'. Tons of hair spray and mousse, teasing and curling and posing to see which style had the best effect. Poofy was in...so was mohawks and bright colors like vibrant purple and shock blue. The 1980's weren't known for fantastic hairstyles, more for their ability to shock (grin). Not so much now. Even as I am growing it back, I fight the urge to cut it short again. I'm always pulling it out of the way into a pony tail or bun and I avoid the mousse and hair spray all together. I tease my boyfriend telling him it's for him so he can run his fingers through my hair (which I really like), but really its because I've gotten lazy about my hair.

I can't deny that I look younger and somewhat more attractive with longer hair. Why then do I fight it so much? I've come to the conclusion that my reasons for fighting it center around boredom. I've moved on to worrying and playing with other things and my hair just doesn't interest me like it once did, and this is good. Can you imagine a woman in her mid-forties in a bright shock blue mohawk... then again...

Boy, Girls and Allergies

I have to admit I’m not attracted to boys. Not that I’m gay or anything, I’m not attracted to girls either. But I think the core problem is an allergic reaction to testosterone and the silly ideals it seems to put into a guy’s brain.

I actually had a guy tell me one time I’d be even more beautiful if I wore more makeup. I usually only wear mascara and a light lip stick or gloss. As a test I wore lots of make up the next day and he never even noticed. You see, it’s all in the perception of the opposite gender. I am not attracted to boys. I am attracted to men who have matured beyond glitz and glamour and want a real woman by their side. However, there seems to be a shortage.

To be honest I’m not petite or shy, and definitely not flowery or fluffy. You won’t find me in a lacy dress, but I am strong, curvy, and competent. I can change the wax ‘O’ ring on a toilet, mow the yard, clean out the cat box, and yes, I have my own power tools. (Odd, that sounds like a commercial from the seventies.) But I do have my moments of feminine creativity. For example, I crochet, bake, primp, scrapbook, wear lipstick and shave my legs. (Which for some reason is totally fascinating to my cats.)

I find it hilarious when a woman is afraid to change a tire. It simply is a choice. You either choose to be vulnerable, or you choose to be sturdy. I can’t fathom being in the middle of nowhere and waiting an hour for some man I don’t know to ‘come to my rescue’ wearing overalls. That seems more dangerous to me than changing the tire. My father made sure when I started driving that I knew how to change a tire and check the oil. Now don’t get me wrong, if I have a choice someone else does the dirty work…My mother on the other hand taught me that I can do anything, unless a boy is in the room, but that’s a whole other story.

True inner beauty is not looked at by the world as a worthy attribute these days. But I remind you that what the world thinks isn’t worth much. Some men from the middle-east believe that women are property- hiding their faces from the world and killing them if it suits their purpose without consequence. Some women in France don’t shave armpits or legs but are still considered incredibly beautiful. Women in Africa have ‘loops’ in their ears to define how beautiful they are, the larger the loop the more beautiful. Alaskan women are judged a great deal by their eyes.

American boys think they like the vulnerable, petite kind of girl, the one with the perfect hair, figure, and face. However, every guy I met that has married one, complains about how she can’t seem to do anything, or complains about why doesn’t she look like she did when they got married. (Odd you know, they never seem to realize that they also change in appearance after marriage…) Perhaps they don’t realize that now she has grown a personality. Or maybe they are allergic to personalities. It makes sense.

Personally I got tired of watching boys drool over girls like that, it’s all a fabrication you know, and ‘you get what you pay for’. Girls of this caliber seem to have no true personality anyway. Their identity seems to be based totally on the approval of others. They would spend countless hours in the bathroom doing makeup or hair that would only last a few short hours, unless of course you put so much goop in your hair that it becomes as strong as concrete. (Yes, I lived through the 80’s when egg whites were even used to get that ‘just so look’.)

I never had (and still don’t have) the patience. I’d wash and dry my hair styling it with the hair dryer and never spray it with anything. My hair was always soft, bouncy and shiny. But apparently being able to run fingers through a girl’s hair is also an allergy boys seem to suffer from. If they could only see the layers of ‘fake’ that models and such put on and how they airbrush the rest in magazines they would soon see the fact that no girl ever looked that good.

Of course, I have my ‘allergies’ too. I just feel my allergies are somewhat more realistic. I want a man who likes to hold hands and hike together. One who wants to ride bicycles with their partner and raise children; not a boy with high ideals and his feet in the clouds. Any one know any?

Feel Free

'Feel free to interrupt my lifestyle at whim'. That is the motto of the mother of the 00's. She is on the go, with her career, her family, and all the needs of both worlds... How does she do it, one asks... my answer is simply..


"I don't know!".... I'm single!... I struggle with finances, job, day to day living... not to mention a social life... I can't imagine what her life is like. I find myself obsessed from time to time with the notion of what it would be like to be married. The only thing that comes to mind is I would have to share everything I own... No more soul possession of the Remote Control. No more eating in bed in a face pack and underwear. (Do I sound appealing or what!..) I would have twice the laundry to worry about, twice the dishes, and only half the bathroom time I have available now.

But hey, lets get to the point. Being single is not necessarily the best world either... Sure I have the freedom to come and go as I please, but unless I can find a friend to do things with, I do everything alone. There are days when I wake up and all I want to do is turn on cartoons and pretend I'm about 10 years old. No worries... What is the Lion King motto....'Hakuna Matata'... oh well. Reality calls and I am full of beans.. Can't take it with you, but I sure would enjoy it if I had some of it right now... I had a small boy tell me the other day that I was really old (he was 10). I'm slightly over 40!... I don't feel old.. I feel like I'm about 17....

You know I saw one of those commercials the other day about 'Feminine Hygiene Protection'. You know they only run those things during prime hours when women will be watching. I think they're tacky... I mean let's get real, how many times do you see a commercial for 'Male Hygiene Protection'? "Hey bubba you know that awful itchy sensation I get ev'r to or t'ree times a month?...doc says use this....." I mean bleack!....Change of topic.

I may be only slightly over 40, but I really feel like sometimes I am losing my mind... I forget the simplest things. Where my keys are for instance. (I searched for those stupid things for three hours yesterday... and you know where I found them? In the refrigerator!...) Life for me is one endless stream of 'what was it I was supposed to do today?'

I stopped ironing. I think it's a useless cause...I also stopped cleaning my bedroom, and I concentrated my energies on the rooms that someone was going to see...like the bathroom and the living room. By now, if you feel like I'm making no sense, I would agree with you. I think they call it rambling... oh well, anyone know what cartoon is on right now?

Biological Clock

When I was little, I dreamed of having babies. Dolls were wonderful children – they never cried, talked back, threw up on you, absolutely perfect. But then one day I learned what happened when you had babies. First you had to get real close to a boy (which when your eleven is gross) and then you had to carry it inside you for, like forever. (Nine months to an eleven year old is like 20 years to an adult) And then it ripped its way out, which, like, had to be painful! And if you haven’t noticed I find myself flashing back into ‘valley girl speak’ for no apparent reason. It was then that I decided I was never having babies…ever! And I made sure everyone knew it.

Around the age of thirteen I began to baby-sit. Mostly it was awful, and sometimes it was fun. But on rare occasions I could almost imagine being a mom, and it didn’t seem so bad. Around 15 or 16 I think I decided that maximum efficiency would be best. Twins – as if you can control what you get! You go through the exposure once and get twice the product. Now that I’m in my thirties and have successfully hit the snooze button on that horrible biological clock for shall we say the fifth time, I am convinced I want to experience childbirth, but don’t want to raise anything. I mean when I’ll be turning 50 they’ll be 18! Which brings me back to my original point – expectations being what they are, It’s more fun to dream than to actually do anything about it.