|As glamorous as I've ever been |
(and I'm wearing Converse under there)
Even on those days, my routine pales compared to many of the women of my acquaintance.
I fuss over my hair a bit, curling and arranging it or if we're going hardcore, hiring someone with a stronger skill set to do that for me.
I select and wear jewelry.
I don't own any makeup--I think it's itchy.
But, I might wear shoes that aren't Converse sneakers, if there isn't going to be too much standing and walking at the event.
In contrast, on an average summer morning when I arrive at the coffee shop wearing stretchy pants, looking as though my hair might be a wig that I put on sideways, I catch a fair amount of fish-eye from the the poshier women around me.
I'll never be that lady described as "well-coifed", "elegant", or even "well put-together." Most of the
|How I look on a day that ends in Y|
time, I look like a six-year-old whose mother just called them inside from a morning's romp in the creek.
Maybe it's a breed of impatience.
I'm too anxious to DO things to wade through the processes of beauty before I go. Hence, I've never developed the requisite skills or collected the tools and equipment.
I'm sure many people think I've "let myself go" but the truth is, that by this definition, I never "held myself" to begin with.
The work of beauty does not interest me as much as learning new recipes, exploring new paths, writing another book, fighting with my garden, and reading. No matter how lovely the results might be.
I live in the South, though, where I definitely seem grubby next to many of my neighbors with perfect highlights, manicured nails, and artfully applied makeup, especially women my own age or older.
On the occasions when I do glam up, it's a revelation--a shining spotlight moment like the ugly duckling reveal in a 1980s "but she wears glasses" makeover moment. Lots of "oooooh." It's gratifying. But if you're glamorous every day, where do you go from there? How do you up the ante for something special? Tiaras?
I don't judge women who focus more energy on beauty. Sometimes I envy them. It's a choice, like any, and as valid as any. I know many intelligent, vibrant, hardworking, and accomplished women who are also glamorous.
It's not an either/or.
Some friends treat it like armor. For others it's self-care, self-love, a way of boosting themselves. For some it's a game--a kind of play. I've only known a few that I worried might have raised it to a pathology.
I'm being photographed this weekend. As a 50th birthday present to myself, I have hired a photographer to get some new author shots, a documentation of what I look like now. I thought about going fancy, but in the end, I decided I want photographs that look like me.
No matter how much I sometimes wish I looked like Audrey Hepburn, that's just not who I am.