Style Intervention

Yesterday, I was invited to what I thought was just a casual lunch with my mother and sister. Had I known this was going to be a style intervention, I might not have worn my yellow "moomoo" dress. (Who am I kidding? I actually THOUGHT I looked pretty cute.)

To start with, Kathryn and my mom had some advice to share with me before my 2PM hair appointment. According to them, I had "let myself go" recently and needed a new "edgier" hairdo. I believe my mom even suggested I go for the "Kate Gosselin" style --- I remember the days when I wanted to look like Reese Witherspoon or Jennifer Aniston... Now, it is a divorced mother of eight. Wonderful.

After Kathryn convinced my mom that I wasn't the least bit "edgy," and that my typical bob-with-bangs made my face look too round, we had a long discussion about the importance of me using PRODUCT (a.k.a. sticky goo) in my hair to make it less "frizzy." Another self-esteem boosting image.

Then it was on to my make-up. This caused some drama because mom and Kathryn had different views. My mom told Kathryn she had make-up lines (and proceeded to wipe them off in the restaurant) and Kathryn told her she had "wrinkle lines" - take that! Ultimately, it was decided that I need to wear more make-up. The problem is... I WANT to wear make-up, I just sweat A LOT. Every morning - ok, at least the mornings when I am working or doing something else "social" - I shower, blow dry and straighten my hair (occasionally even adding a little shine goo or something), and put on a full face (eyeliner and all) of make-up - except lipstick... I will never stoop to that level. THEN, approximately two hours later (if I'm lucky) I look like I just got off of a rollercoaster - my shirt is wrinkled, my hair is a mess, and I have NO make-up. I don't know where it goes... My body hates me. For example, it LOVES to soak up and hold on to such unpleasant smells as cigarette smoke or mexican food, but absolutely refuses to keep perfume, body spray, or even a little blush. Any tips on this problem are gladly accepted; but, I honestly don't think MORE make-up is the answer.

By the end of the conversation my mom had labeled me as a "Wilderness Woman." This is interesting since I was wearing giant pearls, gold sandals, and a dress... but whatever...

Long story short, I got a haircut. I pretty much just look like Ramona Quimby Age 8. Here is a picture of her - for you visual learners:


I am going to work on being more "polished" this school year... but, I am making no promises. Mom and Kathryn, I know your hearts were in the best place. Thank you for loving me enough to kindly point out my unfortunate genes. At least you think I have good finger nails!