Giving a shit can be really hard sometimes. Particularly when you’re tired, or have been working a lot of long hours, like I have been lately. The last thing I want to do when I get up in the morning these days is spend an hour making myself look pretty for work- missing precious moments of sleep while I attempt to apply the perfect amount of eyeliner to look presentable yet unfloozylike; and agonize over life-altering questions, like “Can I wear this black skirt with these brown shoes?” (Answer: Yes. They are both neutrals. Just ask Stacey London).
This was not always the case for me. I used to care- I used to care a lot. When I first started at my job, I was so excited by the prospect of dressing up for work- mixing fashion pieces and cool accessories with “business” dress- I’d even lay awake at night planning my outfits for the week. But as time went on, and the number of hours I worked increased, my ability to care about what I look like (along with my resolve to live) weakened. Slowly, I began trading in my cute pencil-skirt and jewel toned blouse combos for oversized dresses and pants, so as not to restrict the slow and steady expansion of my mid-section (a byproduct of a regular diet of firm food and stress-induced Hagen Dazs/Fuzzy Peach binges).
I describe the fact that I wear almost no makeup to work anymore as “an effort to be more professional”, and the fact that I’ve grown accustomed to throwing my second-day unwashed hair in a high-bun as “inspired by Kourtney Kardashian” – when really both of these choices could be more accurately characterized as “bitch just gave the hell up”. Often, I lament the fact that I’m not a boy. They just have it so much easier. I mean, sure they’ve got the whole tie thing to contend with (Windsor? Or Half-Windsor?) … but still, I’d take that over nylons and hair torturing devices anyday.
I have rationalized my recent choice to stop trying with the fact that my line of work involves intense hours, and can be extremely isolating. Often the only person I’ll see in a day is the woman who cleans my garbage out after everyone else has gone home for the night… and while I’ve been trying to get her to notice my emerald green nail polish for about a week now, bitch ain’t biting. I find myself wondering- is it really worth torturing my tired eyes with eyelashcurlers, pointy pencils and threatening mascara wands if no one is ever going to see it?…. If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around to hear it, does it even make a sound?
I have a friend who has been going through this same thing and recently told me about her efforts to overcome it by taping a note to her bathroom mirror that says “don’t save your best self until Saturday”. She says this always inspires her to try to look good in the mornings now. I’ll admit I questioned the effectiveness of this as a motivational tactic at first- but this morning, facing my dull and world-weary reflection in the mirror, I thought to myself: “Really, breezyk? what have you got to lose here?”.
I ran over to my desk and scribbled those 7 profound little words on a post-it note, and stuck it deliberately onto my mirror. I looked at it long and hard, willing myself to feel something- some kind of desire to try harder. But unfortunately all I felt was an overwhelming desire to punch it.
I ripped the note off, threw it in the garbage and sighed. Obviously some contingency planning is in order here. Maybe I should just do a full-on style makeover and become an indie girl. They don’t try. Actually, I bet they do try. I bet they try really hard to make it look like they don’t try. Sigh. Beyonce, I think you have it right on more than one level:
Question of the Day: How much effort do you put in for work in the morning?
Boys- Do I have it right? Do you really have it easier?
P.S. Thank you all for your awesome entries on the Lucky Charms Contest! You bitches LOVE marshmallows, and I love it. There can only be one winner tho- and that is (drumrolllllllll)
Margie said in response to my marshmallow question: