Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I actually cared how to coordinate clothes or correctly apply fancy makeup. Maybe I would have more friends or wind constantly blowing through my perfectly colored hair like it shows in all those commercials.
But then I remember that I’m the girl who went out in public with a Velcro roller stuck on her head, has blinded herself with liquid makeup applied directly to her eyeball and designates “good” T-shirts/jeans/yoga pants for when she needs to feel classy.
Basically, I just crap glamour.
It started early, as growing up I wasn’t what you would call a “girly girl” at all. My best friends were boys, but seeing as girls were around us as well, I carefully balanced stuffing my leotard with foam balls and coating my eyelids with glitter to lead “Get in Shape Girl” sessions in the yard with digging in the mud with a stick and baiting a hook for fishing.
Although I did have a Marilyn moment or two early on.
I experimented with a variety of questionable “girly”-type things to try and fit in—a crimper, Electric Youth perfume, a Caboodle filled with plastic barrettes and scrunchies to match my colorful socks exposed under my stirrup pants and Jelly shoes—but once I got past the awkward years of 11 to 20, my interest started to fade even more.
Now if someone were to sweep me away and completely make me over, I probably wouldn’t object (as long as they didn’t abduct me near a meal time.)
However, I have no interest in learning how to do it myself—kind of like automotive repair or computer programming, but with more glitter and possibly more power tools.
I just don’t understand things like $25 mascara or dry shampoo. Isn’t spraying more crap in your hair instead of washing the other stuff out counterproductive? And I’m pretty sure if I went for a manicure, the tech would suggest amputation as the least laborious option.
Plus for me, it’s just not practical.
My real goal in life is not to always look fabulous, but rather to get through a meal without dropping food on my shirt or find the fabric softener sheet in my sleeve before someone else does. And I feel like high heels would clash with even my best yoga pants.
So for now, the paraffin hand treatment I get every time I spill the wax out of my Scentsy scented wax warmer and my vegetable steamer facial every night are good enough for me.
But if they make a Bump-It that promises to bump up my chest—not my hair—I might just shell out the cash.
(Unmanicured fingers are crossed!)
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So glad I’m not the only one with “good” yoga pants. My kids even ask, “Why you all dressed up, Mom?” If I happen to be wearing something other than mismatched fuzzy socks and a bathrobe. If I put on jeans, they know I’m seriously making an effort to look nice.
Whenever I put lipstick on, my kids ask me what the deal is. I really should be embarrassed, but I can’t be bothered.
This is awesome… I am so glad I am not the only one who couldn’t be bothered with the typical half hour beauty sessions most women have in the mornings when they “put their faces on”
LOL, that was funny! If I wanted to crap glamour, I’d eat glitter.
This one’s such a pain point for me… Like you, I was never terribly interested in fashion short of my awkward phase in middle school where I tried to dress like Claudia Kishi from the Babysitter’s Club about 10 years too late… and growing up in rural New Hampshire, it never was really an issue because dressing up generally meant someone was getting married or someone had just died.
Fast forward to the present, and drop me in Big City and suddenly I’m supposed to care about these things when I’m the only woman in the lunch room wearing a pair of jeans and not wearing heels. I imagine I’m getting the side eye.
I try to dress up every now and then. I try to make an attempt at painting my face occasionally… but I never feel comfortable, and I find myself wondering… Am I uncomfortable because I care about what people think or am I uncomfortable because I don’t believe I’m worth the effort of putting on nice things.
I’m uncomfortable because I rubbed my eyes, forgetting I have makeup on, and then spend the rest of the day looking like I got sucker-punched by Rocky before I look in the mirror and wipe it off. But I also get what you’re saying. For me, it’s more about comfort, for sure.
I still have that problem with the eye makeup… That and I’m one of those people who cries at the baby animal videos that my coworkers send me.
If I have on makeup, it’s a good bet I have a job interview (suckers – we’ll see how long THAT lasts!). If I have on actual FOUNDATION, you can guarantee I’m getting my driver’s license renewed – which I liken to “Picture Day” in grade school.
I wear makeup for fancy events only, and even then it’s usually a lip pencil (less intense than actual lipstick) and mascara. If I’m feeling really fancy, eyeshadow. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I never wear makeup and I have clear, healthy skin.
If I had all the time back that I used to spend on hair and makeup every day, I’d be 4 years old again. Now my philosophy is, “If it’s good enough for my horse, it’s good enough for everyone else, too.”
I’m glad I realized this early on. Another reason I love ya.
I just want my zipper to stay up and my boob to stay inside the bra. Is that too much to ask for? Oh. wait. I don’t want to grow a beard. Or a mustache. Or both. Or pee myself. Otherwise I think I’m ok as is.
I just want a boob to put inside a bra.
Yep me too! Ah prego boobs how i miss thee.
“a Caboodle filled with plastic barrettes and scrunchies to match my colorful socks exposed under my stirrup pants and Jelly shoes” — OMG! Wow does THAT take me back!
I wasn’t very “girly” either – in my younger years – but lately, I’ve actually been enjoying makeup and manicures. However, I will never spend more than $10.00 for mascara!
I have some powder foundation & blush that I’ve had since 2006. I think they’re health hazzards by now, but since I only wear them for truly fancy occasions, I think they should last me to 2026!
Yes! So do I!
This made me laugh! I was not a girly girl growing up either. My friends were all boys, and I had 2 brothers and parents who believed that girls could do anything boys could do…so I did. In my 40’s now, I have survived all these years quite happy in my jeans and T-shirts and enough make-up to fill a small sandwich bag. BUT…I have two daughters, one of which is quite the girly girl. She tries hopefully to pretty-ft me on a regular basis…and I entertain her efforts. It’s funny though, when I make the effort on my own only to have her send me back to my room to adjust my choices, “just a little”.
See? You’re raising your own little stylist 😉
Yes…I have no idea how that happened, but who am I to stand in her way 🙂
Caboodles – had forgotten those…”Mom! It’s not just a tackle box -See, it’s pink.”
I have often thought about all this too. I was never much into make up and fashion. I do like to look presentable but I absolutely have to feel comfortable. I have never really understood how most women cope with walking and working in heels. I never could. Tight clothes is another thing I cannot abide.
I think the trick is to put comfort first and then choose clothes carefully to flatter your shape and colouring to make the best of yourself, without having to put effort into it. For example, a long sweater with scoop neck and shaped at the waist is going to look better than a straight one with a higher neckline.
As for make up, I think it can help some of the time, but I never spend more than 2 minutes applying it.
A few colourful scarves, necklaces and earrings are so easy and add a bit of ‘personality’
The only thing I do on a regular basis is put on lipstick because if not it looks like I have no lips as they are the same shade/color as my skin. It’s just as much a reassurance to people that I don’t not have lips as it is vanity.
That sounds like a noble public service.
Job interview today. Dressed nicely but I still don’t wear makeup. I know I am not going to wear it even once to the office so might as well give them a look at what they are really considering. If that is the thing that costs me the job then we would have had a serious problem anyway.
This is great! If only we had the means to employ a staff to make us look girly in a ‘Miss Congeniality’ sort of fashion to free up time to enjoy takeaway food and marathon reality tv!
You, me..me, you … Totally the same..minus the yoga pants… I roll outta bed into the jeans from the day before.. Do my butt doesn’t jiggle so much.
Ok, you just took me back. I can smell the Electric Youth right now with that hot pink coil inside the bottle. In retrospect that stuff smelled exactly like a pop star on a mall tour. Not great.
I also used that “Loves Baby Soft” with the pink top, as well. I was very diverse.
Fucking love this. I crap glamour. Filthy, but fucking awesome. Keep it coming!
I feel the same way! I think it’s all just way too much work. Make up and “girl clothes.” I don’t understand how all that works. I think if you didn’t like make up in middle school, you never got the chance to screw it up enough to get it right. Like writing with the opposite hand. I only wear make-up when I absolutely have to. And even then it’s just poorly applied eye liner.
LOVE the Marilyn moment. Another post I am in awe of your genius in describing life’s foibles your way. Sport those classy ass yoga pants with pride and mascara be damned! I agree, keep it coming.
I love the title and your Marilyn moment. I didn’t find my inner girlly-girl or coincidentally my shoe addiction until much later in life. Nowadays I’m equal parts sparkle and wife beaters, preferably with a power tool in hand.
Electric Youth!! In an instant, a flood of memories came back to me in those 2 words, even the smell! It was soooo sweet, right? And the crimper, I had it and the jelly shoes in elementary school. Aww, the memories. We must have been overdone with those because shortly after in middle school and since, I really couldn’t care less. Electric Youth, though. HA! thanks for the reminder 😉
Man I’m glad I found you. My trolling skills have once again not let me down. I will tit punch the next chick that says yoga pants are not real pants. Whose side are they on anyway?? haters.