Do Your Ears Hang Low?
I barked my way through Friday afternoon and was pretty much inconsolable due to a series of hormonal crests and troughs. I was only able to perk up at dinner, when I actually got tears in my eyes as I whimpered, “I want…jalepeno poppers…with ranch dressing.” And though I paid for those poppers in the form of searing midnight cramps, I can honestly say they were worth it.
The hormones made for an exciting weekend for all of us, and no wicked menstrual cycle is complete without a well-timed cold sore, which is affectionately known around these parts as The Herp. Yes, thanks to the wonders of being a woman, along with the herpes simplex virus, my lower lip is tingly, angry and pustulated, waiting to freak the hell out of my coworkers tomorrow, and it’s already well into a bout of terror for poor Adam. By tomorrow morning, I fully expect it to be lying supine on its own pillow and shouting demands for ice cream and pickles like Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker.
And as if getting dressed in the morning wasn’t already a challenge – for the next seven days, I will have a demanding little creature on my lower lip that will require some sort of disguise or distraction. I’ve addressed the issue of my fashion sense here before, and really, it continues to plummet below acceptable levels. Foul-smelling skirts and wrong shoes aside, I don’t need a garment mishap to find myself in an awkward situation. And the worst thing about it is that I’ve actually managed to get my sad little ass awake before 8 a.m. – hell, I’ve even managed to eek towards 7:15 at times, but I don’t actually do anything to improve my appearance, because my mind and body are operating at the same level as a bowl of banana Jello. Instead of showering, putting on makeup and/or figuring out something to wear other than a t-shirt and wrinkly skirt, I spend my time staring into glazed space, surfing the Internet (sometimes wildly answering e-mails in manner of drunk person) and occasionally sitting on the (closed) toilet and catching up on US Weeklies from last July. I shower, then pick up whatever random bits of clothing I can cobble together from the closet and/or floor and leave the house with wet hair. Hot hot hot.
The other day, I found myself in a semi-important meeting-type thing and when I looked down, I was wearing a random Threadless t-shirt with Barney on it (!!), and a heather gray skirt that was so…gah, it was so limp it looked like I was wearing sweatpants that were cut off at the knees. God. It’s time for a change.
The thing is, I don’t do well with change of any kind, and worse, I hate when people notice that I’ve changed something. I hated when the clerk at the hardware store noticed I’d colored my hair, which is stupid, just stupid, I know. It’s just that when someone notices something new, I get all self-conscious about it, like they think I’m trying too hard, and nothing horrifies me more than someone who is trying too hard. Are you catching the flawed logic here? I’d rather look like I rolled out of bed into a pile of rotten milk than look like I put any sort of effort into changing my appearance for the better, because God forbid I look like I tried.
This same flawed logic applies to any article of clothing or accessory that doesn’t perform a specific function, i.e., simply covering the body, holding up pants, etc. I’m afraid of accessories, and does anyone remember when vests were in, back in the late 80s/early 90s? Vests were my nemesis. They didn’t do anything, they just…well, they just vested. And please, the suspender years? They were some of the worst in my personal fashion history, because man, I looked like I tried. I looked like I tried and failed, to be very specific.
Which brings me to my completely random and entirely senseless point which is that I’ve noticed that my pierced ears are starting to close and, well, I have a feeling I might regret that. And while noodling through my belongings this weekend, trying to find something – anything – that would help with The Herp, I discovered that I actually have quite a broad collection of earrings, and while I was young and not such a tightwad pain in the ass about things, I actually wore them.
And God, how easy is it to just throw on a pair of earrings? Much easier than trying to construct some sort of wild fashion statement that involves straps and/or any shoe that is not a flip flop.
Yes. Tomorrow, I will start with earrings. But honestly, if one person notices the earrings, I will never change anything again, and it’s back to sour milk-scented watermelon skirts for everyone!
*Barney. Yes, that Barney.
16 comments October 8th, 2006