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August 25, 2006
Friday Shuffle - The Shuffling Across My New Floor all the Way to Latrobe, PA Edition
Oh, I had hoped to write this much earlier today, but things are nuts at Chezy Poppy. I was going to write this thought-provoking piece about beauty standards and self-esteem, complete with photos of my formerly death-defying '80s hair. But life, and by life I mean an absent-minded husband and a child gripped with the mental illness colloquially known as "being two years old" have intervened. So this might be briefer than I had anticipated, which is probably for the best.
The short version: I've been feeling hideiously ugly all summer.
Now, for the most part, I'm pretty proud of myself for not being a slave to the previously-mentioned beauty standards. I am who I am, so be it. I do occasionally wear make-up, but I've never been one of those gals who'd rather remove a finger than walk out the door without a full painted face, or even one key cosmetic item. I view make-up as a toy, something fun to play with when the mood strikes me. I've always been rather fond of nail polish and lipstick, preferably in red and in the presence of a wiggly bootlegged Elvis-like toy while driving through Memphis, Tennesse:
Same goes with hair color. I started going grey about a week after I hit puberty. This has never bothered me much; I expected it to happen, since my mom also went grey fairly early. So you would think she would know better than to shriek, "My God, Robin! You're as grey as an old mule!" upon seeing my neglected roots a week after my 27th birthday. Nonetheless, I've colored my hair since I was 18. And like with makeup, the hair-coloring was always more about creativity and fun than some misguided thought that I must look a certain way or I'm somehow less of a person.
To quote india.arie, which I'd rather not do but I will: "Sometimes I shave my legs and sometimes I don't." You get the picture. I also have a condition that lends itself to pear-shaped obese bodies, facial hair, skin tags, zits, oily skin, dandruff, male-pattern baldness, and/or black and/or brown spots not dissimilar than the ones sported by my hound dogs. Pretty!
I generally look like crap by our current beauty standards, but for the most part it doesn't bother me. This summer has been particularly bad but in light of everything else that's gone wrong this summer, my looks haven't registered on my radar. The last time I wore makeup? The night of Summer's birthday party nearly two months ago. Last time I colored my hair? December. Last time I shaved my legs? Day before yesterday. It's cooler that way. Last time I cut my hair? The night of the "American Idol" finale. The last time I trimmed my bangs with a pair of scrapbooking scissors? About a week ago, and they're almost as straight as my friend Big Daddy B, who offered to wear a pink prom dress when he served as "maid" of honor at my wedding. Last time I painted my nails? The night before I flew to Vegas for U2 in November. Last time I plucked my chin? Yesterday. If I don't stay on that job daily, I'll trip on my Rip Van Winklesque beard.
It's been an ugly, ugly summer. I just gave up sometime around Independence Day, and I've been cool with that. I've been up against a lot. The blistering heat this summer makes everyone unattractive, so why waste energy fighting it? But I've had two things making this even more difficult: 1) The night of that last professional haircut, I thought it wise to get bangs. I was thinking only of cuteness, and not the fact that I would be stuck in 100+ degree heat with bangs I wouldn't be able to pull away from my face, which brings us to 2) With the onset of the crazies I experienced in June, my doctor put me on Wellbutrin XR, with side effects that Crazy Meds describes as such:
Strange body odor, sweating, nervousness and tremor. Basically Wellbutrin could make you look like the guilty party, so you better have a damn good alibi at all times in case some big, unsolved crime goes down.
Awesome! That means I got to spend my summer with a haircut that prevents sweat from escaping while taking a drug that produces even more sweat. With the humidity sending my thick, curly hair into afroesque proportions and my sweaty, oily, down-right slippery, scrapbooking-scissor-trimmed uneven bangs, I'm quite a sight.
And you know you wanna get wit' me. You do. H. O. T. That's me. I've got the sweat to prove it.
I've learned something this summer: it's easy to not fall into the trappings of "the standard of beauty" when you feel pretty good about yourself. When you feel like everything about your appearance is going haywire all at once, and you're chasing a two-year-old and barely have time to shower, much less partake in any extraneous beauty care, it suddenly becomes really, really easy to slip into the trappings of those standards. All that sweat makes for a slippery slope.
How bad did it get? About two weeks ago I was meeting a friend for dinner, sans kids and spouses. I had a rare few hours to myself before meeting her, and what did I do? I freaked out about the fact that I had absolutely no clothes that suit me. Nothing in my closet could magically undo my sweatiness, my fatness, my skin tagginess, my stubbliness, my sallowness, my eye-baggedness, and my all-around ugliness. I spent those few hours browsing clothes stores in hopes of finding something that magically made me look lovely, something I could wear out of the dressing room.
Now, I don't put much stock into daily horoscopes. While I think there might be some truth in real astrology, I know that those daily horoscopes are most often written by bored interns, pulling predictions out of their asses. But this was my horoscope a few days ago:
There isn't a need to try to make yourself look any better than you are, for others will perceive you correctly. Although this may surprise you, you are quite extraordinary.
And with that, I suddenly snapped back into my right mind. Why am I freaking out over my not-so-smooth skin, grey roots, flab rolls, sweat-shiny face, askewed bangs, and the weird things suddenly growing on my neck? Well, okay, maybe I should freak out about those weird things growing on my neck. I may be pretty well-adjusted, and I think that avoiding a trip to Goiterville might help me stay that way. But otherwise, I know I could show up to dinner in my raggedy pajamas with a goiter the size of my dog, and my friend - any of my friends, for that matter - wouldn't be bothered one bit at all. My friends aren't friends with me for my looks. But that's how far I let it go, wasting my time and energy getting all worked up because my God, if I have to wear a t-shirt and jeans one more time I'm going to be thrown into Ugly People Jail!
It didn't occur to me until the next day that the horoscope might have intended for the word "look" to be more figurative and less literal than I was taking it. No matter. It's made up anyway, so I can take it however it best suits me. The point is, I can't remember the last time anyone said anything negative to me about the way I look. And so what if they did? I rarely feel like I'm treated poorly based on my looks. And so what if I am? Why am I wasting my time and energy worrying about it? No more.
The angst hasn't been limited to my appearance and wardrobe. I've been feeling this way about my house, too. Things have been in bad shape around here. A few months ago, we removed two layers of ugly vinyl flooring from our kitchen with intensions of laying new, less ugly vinyl. Nothing fancy, since we're not planning to stay here much longer, God willing. Just spiffying it up to make it a bit more pleasant for us, and more appealing to any potential buyers.
Of course, we hit some obstacles along the way, mainly in terms of a leaky dishwasher. Then we had the blackout. Instead of laying the new flooring when we planned to do it, we were busy being evacuees.
And let's talk about the room in the back of our house. You know, the room that made me want to buy this house in the first place. It used to be a back porch, but the previous owners enclosed it. I envisioned it as being a lovely sitting room when we moved in, and it was for awhile. Eventually I moved my computer back there, and it was my office for several years. During that time, B. was patching a leaky spot in the roof one day when he took a little trip through the ceiling. Fell right through it. So, no more ceiling for my office. For a little over five years, the "ceiling" has consisted of exposed fiberglass insulation. At one point, there was even a bird's nest in it.
Two years ago, for Clara Jane's sake, we moved my office set-up out of the back room and into the main part of the house. Since then, the ceilingless back room has been a dumping ground for anything in the house that didn't have a proper place.
So, here we are with ugly exposed subflooring and a ceilingless room filled with heaps of junk. Add that to my lack of time and energy, and I've felt like frantically running around town in search of the housing equivilent of new clothes before anyone lays eyes on my house's hideousness.
Well, things are turning around. My parents are visiting this weekend. For our anniversary, they've gone above and beyond by purchasing proper subflooring for our kitchen and dining room so we can finally get the flooring we purchased in April in place. They also bought carpet and the materials to replace the ceiling in the backroom. They're here this weekend to help us get it all installed. My house will be cute again! And when it is, I might even share photos of its cuteness with you. Oh, what the hell - c'mon over! All of ya! We'll have ourselves a party.
And I'm going to be cute again, too. For starters, my doctor took my Wellbutrin away. The only thing it was doing to me was making me even more anxious and sweatier. Within a day of my last pill, the sweating had gone away. The end to the heat's also in sight. Clara Jane's supposed to visit my parents next week, which will leave me time for some beauty fun n' games, like coloring my hair a brand new color it's never been before, and maybe buying some new lipstick to replace all the crappy stuff I bought last year that makes my lips feel like they belong on a corpse. I don't do beauty crap that makes me feel bad in any way, shape or form. I'm looking forward to new slates all around.
Hell, I even have painted toenails right now. Today, while Clara Jane sat on the toilet and sobbed because her grandpa is here, and how dare he love her with all his heart! The audacity of that man! She sobbed, leaning against me while I sat on the edge of the bathtub. My mom grabbed a bottle of rather whorish red nail polish to paint Clara Jane's toenails. It's a little thing they do. After getting one footful of toes painted, Clara Jane had had enough, so my mom instructed me to give her my foot. And she painted my toenails, without me even asking.
I feel a little more like myself now.
And I'm also looking forward to maybe getting back on the fun horse once again and doing something a little nuts. You know I adore Wilco, right? They're playing in Latrobe, PA, two days before my birthday. Why does this excite me? Because Exena lives not-too-far from Latrobe. She loves Wilco. Hey! Let's go see Wilco for my birthday! Another bonus: a new exhibit about The Clash at the nearby Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. I priced airfare today. It's cheap. I think I need to take my chocolate-brown hair, red lips, and painted toes, bid adieu to my cute house, and have a few days of fun.
If Wilco's in the shuffle, I swear to God, I'll put on my socks, strip down to my underwear, and slide Tom Cruise-style across my new floor with glee. Pretty!
1. I'll Be Faithful - Dusty Springfield
2. Ordinary Pain - Stevie Wonder
3. Nothing Lasts - Matthew Sweet
4. Little Babies - Sleater-Kinney
5. A Change Would Do You Good - Sheryl Crow (Hallelujah, yes!)
6. In the Dark - Nina Simone
7. Crazy - Willie Nelson
8. Workout Plan - Kanye West
9. Your Most Valuable Possesion - Ben Folds Five
10. Emit Remmus - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Aw, what the hell? Regardless of the lack of Wilco, you know I'll strip and slide anyway. I'm still slippery enough to really go flying across the room
Posted by Robin at August 25, 2006 07:52 PM
Comments
I'm so glad this post had a happy ending!
Posted by: Lori at August 26, 2006 12:03 AM
I sweat like a hog too, and am not looking forward to going back to school and wondering if I've got pit stains as I write assignments on the chalkboard.
Someone recommend a good anti-perspirant!
I also swore last night that I would start wearing nail polish again. Hmm.....are we related?
Posted by: allison at August 26, 2006 09:33 AM
I, too, am a wicked sweater, though not because I'm suffering any side-effects. I'm just naturally damp, and sport a perpetual sweatstache and, on occasion, pair it with a sweatbeard. (A perfect sweat-tee! Or, sweat-man-chu.) Lovely attributes, really.
Appearance angst, I know it well. Good for you for putting it in is place.
And mad props (I am so cool) to your parents for catalyzing the home improvements.
(I may de-sticky my kitchen floor today, so inspired am I.)
Posted by: Summer at August 26, 2006 09:58 AM
Latrobe isn't super close, more like three hours, but it would be a fun adventure! I think you should do it! And how can you deny the Clash? True, you'll have to shack up in Drew's bachelor pad with the cow cats and a three-legged dog, but it would be fun...
Let me know, so we can get tickets pronto, if necessary. Wilco shows always seem to sell out immediately, those awesome bastards!
Posted by: Exena at August 26, 2006 10:09 AM
I think you're beautiful.
Posted by: Big Daddy B at August 26, 2006 11:42 AM
Oh, and aside from your beautiful-ness, you are one lucky bitch - hello!! Latrobe!! Rolling Rock beer and drunk food!! I'll meet you there...
Posted by: Big Daddy B at August 26, 2006 11:43 AM
"pear-shaped obese bodies, facial hair, skin tags, zits, oily skin, dandruff, male-pattern baldness, and/or black and/or brown spots not dissimilar than the ones sported by my hound dogs" -- are you sure we aren't sisters?
Wilco! Dang! I wanna go. They don't ever come down south -- at least not this far south.
Posted by: Katya at August 26, 2006 01:31 PM
I don't just sweat - I sweat from my head. I am the champion of head sweating. I need some roll on for my scalp. The rest of me could be dry as a bone but I have sweat trickling through my hair. Ugh.
I want to see you with chocolate brown hair. Seeing you with chocolate brown hair would give me an idea what I'd look like with chocolate brown hair.
Posted by: Dixie at August 26, 2006 02:21 PM
Allison, your toenails were lovely today. As were your shoes, red glasses, and fabulous vintage U2 shirt. Any excess sweat was completely drown out by cuteness.
Summer, B. and I have made liberal use of your term "sweatstache" since we first heard it the night of your party.
Exena, buy those tickets. I'm there!
Big Daddy, I think you're beautiful, too. Come to Latrobe! Since Exena and I aren't drinking, you can have our share. Besides, I hear A-B is buying Rolling Rock, which means they'll be making it in my backyard and fucking it up.
Katya, come to Latrobe! Someone's gotta drink the beer that Exena and I won't be drinking. And hey! Wilco!
Dixie, I'm a head-sweater, too. Always have been and I hate it. I think I'd rather have pit stains than drippy head sweat burning my eyes.
Posted by: Robin at August 26, 2006 10:07 PM
I have honestly never seen you not looking completely fabulous. And I had some of your peach jam for dinner tonight, and it was completely fabulous, too. Because YOU are completely fabulous.
Posted by: Angie at August 27, 2006 09:18 PM
Amazing post. Sooooo true and honest. I for one, think you're super HOTT. Summer is just so ick after awhile. At first it's all yay, tiny tops and skirts and then it's oh jeez I just want to put on some fricken jeans already. I hope you have the fun in Latrobe.
Posted by: shannon at August 27, 2006 09:57 PM
Shallow as I may be, I am a firm believer in toenail polish and lipstick and half decent clothes making you feel better - they were my three mail weapons of choice in the battle against potential PND and work related anxiety. I'm so glad that things are turning around for you - sometimes, you need to get the world around you in order (house) and the way you look (lipstick) - it helps you see the world in a more orderly manner. Can I recommend a Maybelline lipstick: superstay - lasts for 16 hours without reapplication, essential for a busy woman.
Hugs
Zoe
x
Posted by: Zoe at August 28, 2006 04:31 AM
What a great post! I have been thinking about some of these issues myself and I think some of it is that summer needs to be over really soon. I am not a girly-girl by any stretch of the imagination and have been told that one of my male coworkers is more girlie than me, so I think that speaks volumes.
That said, I have started getting pedicures again after a many year hiatus and I can't tell you how much I enjoy them. I found a new place this weekend and LOVED it. So much so that I even bought some new make-up which I haven't done in 3 years, so maybe I'll re-join the ranks of the sisterhood again.
Thanks for the thought-provoking entry and for helping me see that I'm more normal than I think sometimes.
Posted by: Cheryl at August 28, 2006 08:58 AM
Here for the first time via shanntastic. Weirdly enough, I am currently:
1) sweating profusely
2) inordinately excited about an upcoming Wilco concert
3) wearing a rather whorish shade of red polish on my toenails for the first time in many moons
Great blog! I shall return.
Posted by: michelle/weaker vessel at August 28, 2006 10:28 AM
I've been a lurker for quite some time... I so admire and appreciate your frankness and honesty on the site and the humor with which you convey it.
Posted by: Liz at August 29, 2006 11:35 AM
