"Girl" has never been my strong suit.
Now, everyone has their thing that they do that is tragically stereotypical, like me with my secret purse obsession and the metric shit-ton of stuff I need to get ready in the afternoon morning. Seriously, I jsut went to LA last month, for two days, and the stuff I had to pack into clear Ziplocks so security guards could gauge my levels of testosterone and vanity included, but was not limited to,
- Eye serum: wrinkle serum; oil free moisturizer; foundation; eye and cheek makeup; 6 different brushes to apply said makeup; q tips; noxema; color-saver shampoo; color-saver conditioner (I woke up grey one morning, shut up); hair silk; hair paste; cocoa butter; hand lotion; chap stick; lip gloss; lip stick; deodorant; super strong deodorant; perfume.
For two days. Besides that, though, I'm really lousy at the girl thing. I bite my nails until they're unrecognizable, I sleep in whatever I was wearing after 7 pm, I brush my hair at best every third day, I can't remember the last time I shaved my legs and at home, I don't actually use 1/3 of the stuff in that list up there.
All of my clothes are denim or black. My underwear doesn't come close to matching. I have one pair of heels, I don't own a skirt, I have no nail polish and I carry a men's wallet. And I like it. I like things that are practical. I drive my husband insane.
He's been up my ass for years to be more feminine. He's sent me to the mall and just said, "Spend whatever you need to make it happen." I usually grab a hoodie and come home. He's shoved me into the MAC store even though I don't like hot blue eyeshadow anymore and I weigh significantly more than 80 pounds. He buys me gorgeous sweaters every Christmas that I shrink in the dryer and he's started forcing me to buy tailored coats that he thinks I'll get dry cleaned some year. Every year at Christmas, I ask for a vacuum or a new grill or a sewing machine and the poor guy buys those things and feels like utter shit because he just bought his wife an appliance for Christmas. It doesn't matter how much I like it; he just wanted to give me some bubble bath stuff and maybe a gift certificate for a manicure. Because he was pretty sure that 11 years ago, that person he stood in black patent leather shoes in the blistering heat for and signed over his life to contained estrogen.
And then a few years ago, someone gave me a pink shirt. And I didn't totally hate it. And then someone took me to work with her and taught me everything I needed to know about makeup. And then a short while after, someone gave me a daughter. And I gave her a pink shirt, too. And then she discovered my makeup And now my life is a pepto-bismal covered glitter bomb, and I don't totally hate it.
I even bought pink Crocs. Fuzzy pink Crocs. Mmmmm.
I am totally turning into a chick. I have different shades of eyeshadow for different occasions and dresses and three different coats for the winter and everything. I still don't brush my hair ever, but whatever. A few months ago, I started having rolling panic attacks and by rolling I mean, 'every ten minutes, lasting 9 minutes and 15 seconds each' and after a few days of that, I swallowed a few of those anti-anxiety pills and within 10 minutes, the panic attacks were over and within 2 days, so was the nail biting. My nails actually grew out so long that they started to break, and so I had to go Get. Them. Done.
The Donor did a little happy dance of joy that day, yes he did.
This girl thing is carrying over into other parts of my life as well. You should see my garden right now. As in, I planted a shitload of flowers and plants and coordinated what and where to ensure perpetual bloomage all year long. There are cut flowers on my desk. I have lemongrass candles going in my room right now. I found a women's wallet that ohmygod I want so bad. Yes, it's still my standard brown leather, but it's made for girls, with spots for all the credit cards I don't have and the check book I don't own. It's $90, so there's no way in hell I'm buying it, but still. I liked it.
And I just discovered Zappos, so it was nice knowing you.
And then there are these.
But these fall into the category of things people sent me that I didn't pay for and so I don't talk about them on this blog. I do, however, talk about them at great length on this blog. Because dear lord, talk about your awesomely chic.