Some Women…
Some women are always stylish no matter how casual or dressy the occasion.
Some women never spill their lattes on their white T-shirts.
Some women don’t have mascara smudged under their eyes within an hour of putting it on.
Some women can apply lipstick and know it’ll stay on their lips—not around them or on their teeth.
Some women can pay to get a manicure/pedicure and not fuck it up when they walk the 10 feet from the salon to their car.
Some women can do their hair in the morning and leave the house confidently knowing that it hasn’t deflated a nanosecond after turning from the mirror.
Some women know that it’s not about the perfect pair of shoes, or the right dress or the IT bag.
Some women are able to hold smart, witty conversations with perfect strangers without feeling stupid or insecure.
I’m not one of those women.
This is how I look at the end of the day
I am a bumbling hot mess most days, no matter how hard I try to get it right. Every white T-shirt I own has been stained by coffee, Diet Coke or my lunch. I wear a lot of black T-shirts now, but that still doesn’t solve the problem. By the time I get to work every morning my mascara has already smudged—and not in a sexy, smoldering way. It’s more like I got something in my eye and rubbed it hard. My lipstick is worn off before I’ve even had my first sip of coffee.
I try to keep my nails looking neat and nice but inevitably I smudge my manicure when I get in my car or pull on my seat belt. If I do my nails at home I manage to smudge them without even moving. I’ve also had to pull the occasional dog hair out of my setting polish. My hair goes flat within minutes, no matter how much hairspray I use to glue it into place.
My awesome shoes and handbags are usually a little dirty or scuffed and my jeans are always just a little too long.
When it comes to making small talk, I become mute.
I am clumsy and bump into walls, bruising my legs and elbows with alarming regularity.
I’m THAT chick, you know the one: No matter how dressed up I am, something is amiss, a little disheveled.
At 40 I’m more comfortable in my skin that I ever have been, but just once I’d like to walk in the door at the end of the day looking exactly as I did when I walked out that morning. No stains, not disheveled, makeup sort of in place, hair not looking like I napped on all day.
Maybe some day when I grow up it’ll happen.
But I doubt it…
Eve
No idea you were such a mess! Nails, jeans, hair…all seemed in place to me. I’m going to have to look at you much harder now. Wish it were soon!
kate
ok, I can manage unsmeared mascara, lipstick (I use that super long stay stuff that CAN’T smear no matter what, and the color practically matches my lips so you wouldn’t be able to tell anyway) and nails*, but that’s it. I don’t spill on myself as much now as I used to, but thankfully I have three kids to make up for it by getting goop all over me anyway. Needless to say, I only wear dark colors. My hair not only falls flat immediately, it nevers gets unflat to begin with, and at night I look exactly the way I looked in the morning only because I was a mess the whole time.
I definitey DO NOT make small talk or delight a rommful of strangers with my witty banter. I might impress them with my ability to shovel appetizers in my mouth to keep from talking, though.
And I think you are lovely, and wonderful and perfect.
*a secret to unsmeared nails is to wait until they are pretty dry (2-3 min with a top coat of Seche Vite) and then apply cuticle oil on them. The oil creats a slick coat so that anything that bumps the nail glides off instead of marking it up. Doing my nails last thing before bed, waiting about 5 min and applying cuticle oil, and then going to sleep letting them fully dry over night has given me the best results. Hope it works for you!
XUP
When you become Plastic Woman then you’ll always look exactly “perfect”. Meanwhile, just embrace your own particular charm and stop worrying about achieving plastic perfection.
Issa
Me neither. I will never be one of those women.
I was at a store the other day looking at this really cute white shirt.
Then I remembered who I was, laughed and bought it in black.
Ginger
I see you’ve met my mother.
Elizabeth
You’ve met MY mother, too. In addition to all of the above, she eats like a bird and swears that she couldn’t possibly eat dessert/appetizer/dinner/breakfast because that piece of deli turkey stuffed her to the gills and she is about to pop! Sorry. I clearly have unresolved issues.
The point of this is that none of us (except my mother) is perfect and we all stain our t-shirts and smear our mascara and fuck up our nails. I would add to that list that some women can wash their hair at night and magically make it look fabulous in the morning, as if they didn’t sleep on it, tangle it and make it look like ass. I am not one of those women.