…to keep me from being a disheveled mess, these days. On the list of things I’d love to do: have my hair cut/colored, pedicure, spray tan, dentist and a dermatology appointment. I missed my dental check-up last week, and the only positive thing about showcasing your ridiculously obnoxious roots is the fact that it speaks to a generous volume of growth since the last time you visited the hair stylist. Let’s celebrate something, shall we?
In all seriousness, I’m a bit of a train-wreck lately. In fact, while paying for groceries this evening, the cashier had to help me with my outfit. Apparently my dress tag was hanging out along with bra straps showing , to which she felt compelled to have me turn around, mid-transaction, commented on my scandalous presentation and fiddled with my dress across the register. All the while, the people both in line and bagging the groceries looked on with pity. I made it to the car where I unloaded the groceries. I glanced in the window only to notice a layer of smudged mascara 1/2 thick smeared under my eyelid. And, why would I want to accentuate the pronounced dark circles already taking residence there? I tossed the shades back on and finished unloading. Thinking ahead, I cranked the car to cool it off, and started to roll the buggy back to the docking station. As it turns out, I’d left my driver side door open, to which a concerned, and rather vocal citizen shouts with a tinge of irritation,
“Hey! You gonna just leave your door open like that!!!!”
“Well, no actually I was just gonna take…”
“Here, just give me the cart. I’ll take it”, she interrupted and grabbed it from me.
But she didn’t hear me. She was already 5 paces toward the door whispering something to her teenage daughter. I won’t make any assumptions about what she could have been saying (working on improving upon my assertion formulary).
I made it home with the groceries, shared a salad with the family, and decided to sneak away for a few moments. So, here I am….dishing. I really don’t feel quite like myself. Speaking of not myself, the photograph shared today is of me, with my pre-k graduate, and I’m wearing a cardigan. I’m not a button-up-sweater girl. In fact, in 5 years I’ve only bought four of them, and those four in response to either feeling pressured by style books, or because I needed to stretch myself. I know….they are layering staples, and can perfect an outfit. I get the versatility piece. But, I’ve always felt boxy, stiff and overly studious. And, because I’m none of these things in reality, it seems sort of disingenuous. What I did like about yesterday’s outfit was the play on color. I let the crazy cardigan dictate the other selections and received praise from cardigan-lovers everywhere. I actually do like this sweater. I liked the price too. So, perhaps I’m evolving.
Yes, Owen graduated. If you follow this blog you’ll remember he actually missed his ceremony. So, we had our own. The ceremony lasted all of about 2 minutes. He paraded in the robe, got his picture and diploma granted. It was all the pomp and circumstance he required. After the photo, he ripped off the cap & gown, said “I graduated” and that was it. After asking me everyday for a week when he was going to have his “graduation party”, I was shocked to realize this was the only bit off affirmation he actually needed. I just love that about Owen. He’s so easy. P.S. Please don’t be afraid of me with no mascara.