fancy-time

I'm a pretty laid back gal.  On the regs (that's "regularly" for all you not-so-hip-sters) I'm in jeans, a t-shirt and chucks with the possibility that I may have combed my hair.  OR I'm wearing yoga clothes due to either having gone to class or the intention to go to one eventually and if these stretchy black pants weren't so damn expensive you might think I was homeless.  Lets just say I don't put a ton of effort into how I look.

BUT.  I have an appointment at 1PM with a staffing agency and I need to look like a million bucks.  Or at least like a not-so-naughty secretary.  WTF do I wear.  And how do ladies who wear office-y stuff every day manage to get themselves together in the mornings?

It starts with a shower including washing and conditioning hair and shaving legs.  I add in a little scrub for extra credit.  Then, out of the shower you must moisturize your whole body, use three different creams on your face, a leave in conditioner for your split ends, and a roller-ball thingy for under your eyes to make you look more *awake*.

Then, to find an outfit.  Here I am, standing in front of the abyss that is my closet, trying to see what goes together without looking too slutty or too casual or too matchy-matchy.  Somehow I pull something together that is a facsimile of a a skirt-suit.

Now my hair.  ugh.  I hate blow-drying my hair.  Any ladies with flat lifeless hair will understand the drama around trying to make it not so flat and lifeless.  First, a little mousse on the roots for lift.  Then, flip over to blow hot air at the roots.  Then flip back over and add the attachment to the dryer and fish the round brush out of the drawer.  Clip hair up in sections.  Blow out little strands of hair, being careful to pull the roots up and away, and not to get the brush caught in your hair.  Finally, about 30 minutes later, your hair looks slightly better than when you air-dry.

At this point my arm muscles are screaming from holding dryer, round brush and hair at odd angles.  My thumb is burnt from getting in the way of the hot dryer air too many times.  And my face is red and sweaty from the exertion.  Just in time to apply makeup.

I slather on some foundation, blush, eyeliner and mascara.  Good enough.

No less than one hour and 15 minutes later, I'm ready.  I go out to show mom.  "Oh don't you look nice... but, aren't you going to put on some lipstick?" Ahhh mom.  Always knows juuuuust what to say.  I'm running late so I keep my snarky reply to myself and put on some gloss before heading out the door.

As I clomp in my heels down the hallway to the elevator, I think about performing this ritual on the daily and almost go back inside skipping the damn appointment.  But I spent so long, someone should appreciate this hard work.  ...and my mommy wouldn't let me.