I've always thought of myself as a low maintenance woman.
I'm definitely not a high maintenance woman who has to have acrylic fingernails and a spray-on tan. I don't buy designer clothing. I don't get anything lasered or waxed. I don't expect the man I'm dating to be available to cater to my every whim (and with an open checkbook to boot).
I'm also not a no maintenace woman either. I shave and pluck on a regular basis and not just because I might be getting some horizontal action with a man. I do my own manicures and pedicures and treat myself to a trip to the spa on occasion. I get my hair cut and colored every 6 weeks mainly because it needs it. I buy nice clothing, but usually when it's on sale.
Lately I've been rethinking whether I truly am a low maintenance woman or not. Maybe I'm a high maintenance woman who is lazy. My life is pretty busy with things already, but if I really wanted that fake tan, couldn't I find the couple of hours a week to get it? Probably. If I really wanted a designer outfit couldn't I buy it? Sure.
My problem is that I'm unwilling to give up things I find interesting and fun in order to make time to read fashion magazines, go to the mall, and lay still while someone lasers a landing strip into my bikini area. Do I want to go to the park to take photographs or do I want to let some random woman at the Clinique counter in Nordstrom's draw on my face? The answer to that question is no contest.
I guess what I am is a high maintenance woman with common sense (and a limited amount of cash)...
I admit it. I'm thinking about turning into a hair whore.
Lately I've been seriously considering sneaking around on my current hairdresser of 4 years. I mean she's OK and everything, but where's the excitement? The newness? The wild and crazy stuff of bygone times? She and I have gotten into a rut and I'm seriously contemplating letting someone else touch my bangs (and maybe more if I like that). Me bad?
This all started when I woke up one morning to get ready for work and realized that somehow my hairdresser had introduced the Carol Brady flip into my hair without me knowing it. We used to be able to talk about things like this. She used to take my opinions seriously. Where, oh where did it all go so wrong?
I know I should do the right thing and break it off with her BEFORE I go out and start shopping around for her replacement, but I think it's only fair that I get to test drive a new model before I commit to it. Right? I mean what if the next one isn't as good as she is? Then I'd be totally screwed, you know what I mean?
I will do the right thing however, and not sneak around with Michael, the gay guy at the next station. That's just wrong to flaunt a new relationship in front of your old one in that way. If she happens to notice that my hair color is a little more red than the last time she colored it, I'll have to somehow come up with a convincing lie. Can the sun bleach your hair redder?
I'm not a good liar. At all. *Note to self: take up poker playing BEFORE turning into a hair whore.
...but only because when I scroll the directory on my phone, looking for someone to call and commiserate about my day with, it's the same 5 people who always seem to get a call from me at 5:45 pm saying, "Whatcha doing? I'm sitting in traffic and I'm bored so I thought I'd start dialing..."
Just went back and corrected the grammar on my previous post. Spelling and grammar are important to me because I think that you should care enough to choose your words carefully to express your ideas. I regret the trend in this country that text messaging and other forms of electronic communication have reduced us to. Yes, communication is possible in these shorthand times, but I feel that we lose the richness of language that weaves a beautiful tapestry around our experiences by succumbing to the temptation to take shortcuts like these. Am I out to lunch on this? Can I get an amen out there?
I especially find it irksome among the men online who are looking to meet quality women. Hasn't someone told them that it's kind of important that they don't look like a 3rd grade dropout if they want to meet that intelligent and witty woman of their dreams? I'm going to continue to keep my standards high in this regard and anyone who uses 2 when they mean too, will automatically find themselves in the reject pile.
(This is not directed at my friends who speak English as a second language. I'm actually in awe of your ability to negotiate the quagmire that is English).
My pathetic gardening efforts have resulted in a lone, golf-ball sized tomato that is finally ready for harvesting. As you can see from the grave condition of the plant itself, the patient isn't expected to live much longer, but at least it can die now knowing that it will return to its Creator having fulfilled its purpose in life. And no, its purpose wasn't to produce a beautiful fruit for me to enjoy, but rather that it taught me that even a little bit of love and care can produce beautiful results...
Update: The tomato was sweet and juicy but still the flesh was firm. I'm not a huge fan of tomatoes, but I've also never enjoyed a tomato more.
