Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Vanity is Over-Rated

Let's discuss why maybe "A Commitment to Vanity" is a bad idea. Since the new year, I have been working on not being a train wreck, with limited success. I am starting to think that vanity is over-rated. Perhaps I shall follow John Mayer's example. He "quit" the media game. Perhaps I will quit the vanity game and go back to being my lumpy old self.

Let's do a quick inventory of how things have been going, starting from the top.

Hair: My hair looks better - but if I'm being honest, my highlights look super fake. I wanted it to look sun-kissed. Instead, it looks very Jersey - as if it's being kissed by a big dude from the down the shore named Sonny. That was not the look I was going for.

Teeth: Whitened. They are less hideous but... I wonder if I couldn't benefit from some shiny new chompers, a la Hillary Duff or Shannen Doherty. Has anyone else noticed their teeth? They are big and white and look like Chiclets. That could work for me...

Face: I bought all new make-up. It's mineral make-up and very fancy. You know it's fancy because they sell it on infomercials. It is supposed to be so amazing and miraculous that the Dalai Lama uses it when he's bored with meditating because you can achieve total spiritual enlightenment simply by "buffing" it on with an enormous fluffy brush.

I have had it for five days, and I sort of love it. Actually, I really love it. I love my new mineral make-up with the big fluffy brushes! "Hi big, fluffy brush! I wuv you! I shall call you Buffy and instead of slaying vampires and demons you will disguise my dark under-eye circles and occasional bouts of adult acne! Isn't that awesome?!"

And yes. Maybe I am losing it. For about a year now I have had only one shred of sanity left and a somewhat tenuous grip on it. But it all makes me really happy and that is a little embarrassing for me. But there. I said it. I love make-up. So I guess I'm a girl, after all.

Ass Reduction: I have lost a total of eight pounds this year. And it's been a big cluster of not fun. You know what happened that messed up my whole program? Snow. It started to snow. And it didn't stop for three weeks. And I spent the whole time eating and drinking as if the damn food supply was about to run out. No one my age, who is not a professional lumberjack, should eat pancakes and bacon for breakfast every single morning. The T-boxes didn't help either.

Then, when I was able to dig my way out and get the kids off to school (accompanied by celestial harps playing the hallelujah chorus), something evil and nefarious and extremely delicious showed up on my doorstep... Girl Scout Cookies. They may as well be called Suburban Mom's Kryptonite. Damn you, Samoas. Damn you to hell.

Working Out: You know how I knew it was bad? When I had this - actual verbatim - exchange with my Wii Fit Plus right after Valentine's Day.

Wii: "It's been a long time since your last Body Test."
Lydia: "Yeah. It's been a rough couple of weeks, Wii. Sorry."
Wii: "It is nice to see you again.... Cap'n."
Lydia: "You did not just say that."
Wii Fit: "Just kidding... Lydia. Would you like to get started?"
Lydia: "No. Because I hate you."
Wii Fit: "Are we feeling insecure? Why don't you try not being a fat ass? A good start would be to not eat a whole sleeve of frozen thin mints during American Idol. What do you think?"
Lydia: "I think I am going to crush you."
Wii Fit: "You already are. Look down, dumbass. You're standing on me."
Lydia: "Gaaaahhhhhh!"

Ok, so the last part is made up. But it really did call me Cap'n just to be a dick. That actually happened.

Wardrobe: I have worn heels twice in the past week. Kate is thrilled. Last Saturday, I wore a cute outfit to McLovin's party. No one noticed though because I brought Hawk in his tux and the cuteness was blinding. Well, Kate noticed my outfit and was very sweet and encouraging about it. But the point is I made an effort, dressed like a grown-up and then spilled chocolate on my boob. Apparently, for this vanity thing to work - I will be required to both dress and act like an adult. That may be asking too much.

The next day, I wore a dress to church. I was feeling pretty good. Almost starting to feel swanky. Then, as I walked in the front door - I noticed a dryer sheet sticking to my ass. Take a moment for that to sink in. I looked at my kids and was like: "Did you notice this dryer sheet? Stuck to my KEISTER?" and they were all: "Yup. But you have always random things stuck to you. We thought it was on purpose."

Nice. And the sad part is that they are 100% right. I once went to work with an alphabet sticker of the letter "P" stuck directly over my left nipple. It was there for hours before I noticed because apparently my co-workers thought the same thing: "But Lydia, you have always random things stuck to you. We thought it was on purpose."

Maybe my natural state is one of dishevelment and I am trying to do something profoundly unnatural by making an effort to be cute. Maybe it is my destiny to be a fashion train wreck and I am trying to thwart fate as if I were in a fashion version of Final Destination. We all know those movies never end well. Maybe, possibly, I am making excuses? Naw...

Oh well. I'll give it another week... (Sighs like Eeyore) The Samoas are gone, anyway.

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