I am not a well-put-together Mom.
By this, I mean I do not wear cosmetics, I don't iron clothes, and as soon as the weather permits, I am wearing capri pants and sandals to work everyday. My entire hair care system consists of washing it once a week, conditioning it everyday, and putting enough gel on it so it doesn't become a frizzball, and popping a hairband on to keep it out of my face. My skin care regimen is much more elaborate - cleanser, toner, moisturizer - I do want to look young and have nice skin.
I started out in my girlhood as a tomboy and it seems I have reverted back to it. My Mom rarely, if ever, wore make up when I was a child, so I had no frame of reference for it. I distinctly remember the first day I wore make up to school when I was in grade eight - I was laughed at and I made some excuse up that I had let my sister (sorry, Teri) put it on me and I didn't have a chance to look in the mirror before I left for school. And then I promptly went into the bathroom and washed it all off. I did get better at it as I got older - and was probably quite the girly-girl when I was in university - but this all ended when I moved to Japan when I was 22. Why? Well, it was so damn humid that cosmetics simply melted off my face! That and the fact that I had a very difficult time buying cosmetics in Japan - with not having the right skin tone (fair-pinkish as opposed to olive) and all. Now I rarely wear make up because everyone feels the need to comment on it when I do - favourably this time, but it is embarrassing nonetheless. In an odd sense, I wear cosmetics now to hide who I am rather than to show off who I am.
Why am I getting into all of this?
I stayed home sick from work on Friday. I ate a questionable quesadilla for lunch on Thursday and paid dearly for it the next 24 hours. I did drop Willow off at daycare on Friday so I could come home and wallow in my discomfort in peace. I dropped her off, walked back to sign her in on the computer, and saw a very well put-together Mom.
I have no clue who she is. But she was about my age, had very nicely styled hair, a prettily-made up face, blouse, suit skirt, stockings, and heels. There I was, recently from my sick bed, dressed in flipflops, sweatpants, t-shirt, and unbrushed and extremely fuzzy hair pulled up into a messy french roll. My heart dropped. Part of me wondered why I can't look like that. Not the being thin and having straight hair - I've dealt with my hand in those situations. But why can't I look put-together like that? I feel like if I started doing that now people would think I was playing a part and not being me. I am working in an industry and department where it really would behoove me to be put-together like that and I know it.
Bah! I didn't need to see her when I was feeling bad to begin with. But still - here I am wondering about what I am going to wear to work tomorrow and if I will bother slathering something on my face to try and be like someone else.