Wednesday, July 18, 2012

How Do I Look?

Yesterday I drove 30 miles to visit an old friend from high school so she could help me pick out make-up and some new skincare products. (She has her own clinical skincare and cosmetics business now--

Wendy was always one of the beautiful girls in class, impeccably dressed and with a hair rarely out of place. To top it off, she’s incredibly nice. (She sent me a huge package of samples when Conor was on the NBU. So thoughtful.)

Me, I was this freckled-faced, brace faced, four eyes, book-loving nerdlette who went through a very bad phase of wearing long johns as leggings under my mini-skirts. (I know, really, what was I thinking?  I’ll tell you what I was thinking.  "I look just like Madonna," that’s what I was thinking.)

Yeah, like that. 
Make-up shopping was a good excuse to get some respite time from Conor. Summer’s always a crush of stress and activities and “vacation” and heat and meltdowns and ice cream dripping all over the place. I needed a break from all the autism and the craziness.

Aw hell, I just wanted to buy some make-up and look pretty for a couple hours.  Whatever. I’m a girl, sue me.

Sometimes I think that if I wear the right clothes, and I have the right face on, and there’s nothing stuck in my teeth, people won’t know the chaos of my family’s life. They won’t see the stress, the worry, Conor’s screaming, and the obsessive birdhouse-painting.

They’ll see a woman who has got it all under control.

Hey look at me! I can do this autism parenting thing! I actually got a shower today and I did my hair. (Forget the fact that I forgot to brush my teeth because Conor got up at four a.m., no matter. That’s what Trident gum is for! )

Deodorant? What’s that you say? I obviously forgot to put deodorant on? No, no, I’m using natural deodorant, to give my body a break from all the carcinogens in antiperspirant and to let those toxins sweat out of my body.

Who cares that I smell like a Texas A&M linebacker that just finished a 3 hour workout in 100 degree heat? It’s natural, baby. Natural. Like Woodstock and Birkenstocks.

Yeah.  Like that.

Based on my brief research, being a hippie, particularly at Woodstock,
 meant you didn't have to wear very many clothes.

Ok, I forgot to put deodorant on. I apologize for not hugging you, but it's for your own safety. It's 103 degrees in the shade here.

Listen, some days? It’s all I can do to get to the finish line.  Get the kids in bed and then collapse.  If you can’t make it, then just fake it, right?


So I spent some time catching up with a friend, she made me pretty, and I made my husband a slightly poorer man.  I think it was well worth it.

So, how do I look?

Yeah.  Like that.

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