But What Should I WEAR?

Last week, I wrote about taking the plunge into piles of clothes in my room to pick out a decent outfit.

Today, I would like to begin this post with tears.

Tears of frustration. Pain. Anger.

Let me tell you something: sometimes, when a girl gets ready in the morning, she hits a few bumps in the road, so to speak.

She realizes that the shirt she thought of last night as she was starting to fall asleep, now that it's on her, actually looks ridiculous.

The skirt that had taken her three minutes to find (three minutes she cannot spare in the morning) now makes her look fat.

She can only find one earring of the only pair she feels like wearing.

Standing there in front of the mirror, eyes glazed over and a pile of crumpled material under her feet, this girl wonders if it's too early for chocolate.

Suddenly, a sorrowful glance at the clock reveals that she is now ten minute behind. And she'll barely have time to brush her teeth, let alone pick out the perfect outfit.

Luckily, there is time to grab chocolate.

There's always time to grab chocolate.

The Cutting of the Hairs

Well, I got a haircut this last Friday.

Every couple months, when I have to start pushing the curls back with a headband, I know it's time to hack it all off. And when I'm sitting in the swively chair with that cape thing tied all around me, I just keep saying "shorter! shorter!" until there are hair remnants on the floor all around me.

Then, I get home. And look in the mirror. I freeze, shocked at how short I went. And my self-esteem starts to quaver.

(I just typed this last word before realizing, hey, I don't think this is a real word. I think I just invented a cross between quiver and waver. Well, you saw it here first, ladies and gentlemen.)

Did I go this short last time?

Do I look stupid?

Do I look like a boy?

Do I like like a 40-year-old woman? Because I really don't need any more people calling me ma'am, thank you very much.

Once I get home and wash it (using waaaay too much shampoo at first. You know how that is when you cut your hair?) and it dries, it always looks different than when I was sitting in the chair wanting it shorter.

After a few hours of second-guessing myself and scaring myself when I look in the mirror, I finally decide it will be all right. I just hope that I don't hear any of the following when I go out in public:

Telltale Comments When You Got a Bad Haircut

1. Oh, do you like it?

2. That certainly is a haircut.

3. Wow. It's so short!

4. Did you mean to do that?

5. It must be a lot easier to take care of, now that most of it is gone!

The Kindly Librarian

I'm too nice.

Librarians are too nice.

And sometimes, certain patrons like to take advantage of that niceness.

They're used to us being very accomodating. Doing whatever we can to make them happy. Going above and beyond to get them what they want. Because that's our job!

And also, I love it. I enjoy it. I like to make people happy in the library.

But, sometimes I don't make people happy in the library. I get to tell them fun things like, "You have $40 in fines," while cringing and expecting an argument.

Some patrons just get this shocked look on their faces, like, all of a sudden this kindly librarian is giving them bad news. But the library's supposed to be a happy place! Everything's supposed to be free!

Well, it is. As long as you follow the rules. You will never have to pay a dime if you return things on time.

And now you have a fine because you forgot about the 16 dvds you checked out three weeks ago.

I'm sorry. This is my fault, how?

And then the expectant look. "Fix it, you kindly librarian!"

It doesn't work that way, buddy.

And suddenly, the kindly librarian grows a monstrous, fire-breathing head. A claw reaches out and grips the patron's shirt in a threatening sort of way.

Not really. But the patron responds as if that's the way we act. When all we really want is to give people free books and avoid confrontation.

If I'm seen as mean or unaccomodating because I follow the rules, so be it. I'm a protector of the books!

If Outfits Were Flowers, I'd Pick...Um...

*idea taken from a conversation with my sister*

So, getting dressed in the morning. Sometimes it's a process. Okay, always. In case you struggle with putting together the perfect outfit, I've prepared an easy-to-follow list of instructions.

This is pretty basic, just to warn you. I don't know which color is best for your skin tone. Or if you're allowed to wear brown with black. Or navy blue with black. Or socks and sandals...

Okay, I do know that one for sure. No socks with sandals. For real.

Step One: Approach pile of clothing. Gingerly and with respect.

Step Two: Root through it. Furiously and with gusto.

Step Three. Find a not-too-wrinkly top or bottom.

Step Four: Shake and smell. Be sure your pile of dirty clothes did not get mixed up with the pile of clean.

Step Five: Once you find a top or bottom that passes inspection, choose something to go with it. Something that matches. Get feedback if possible.

Congratulations. You now have the perfect outfit. Maybe I should start a consulting business...?

Child's Play

Remember when you were a kid?

When you would be really "into" something? And that was the only thing you did for hours every day?

My sister was always my companion in this. We would all of a sudden get really obsessed with a certain game or activity and then plunge into it for days, only stopping to eat and sleep.

All of a sudden, our Polly Pocket village would become the most important thing in our lives, taking over the entire living room where people would step on pieces by accident. We'd be laying there on our stomachs, moving the tiny people around (back when they were REALLY tiny. you know, choking hazards.) and acting out life as we knew it by our favorite books or tv shows.

Or sometimes we would keep playing a game. One week we played UNO every waking moment until we were completely sick of it. Or there was the game of Monopoly that would keep stretching out as we proclaimed we would not STOP until someone won!

At one house we lived in, we had a sandbox in the backyard. My sister and I took it upon ourselves to begin sifting all the sand in it with our blue plastic sifters, taking out twigs and rocks and such. A pile of pristine, sifted sand grew in one corner of the sandbox, and we worked tirelessly to clean up the rest!

When you're a kid, playing is your occupation. Imagination and creativity are your tools. You just have to go for it and do your best, no matter how long it takes! How sweaty you get! How many fights you have with your sister!

But after a few days, it all wears off. Your mom realizes that it has been some time since the giant tower of blocks has been touched. You know, that tower that was going to reach all the way to the ceiling. And then you have to clean it all up.

Now, onto something new!

 

Bad Eyes, Cont.

So, my eyes are bad. I've had glasses since I was about seven.

They get on your nerves after a while, you know? Especially when you have to wear them all. the. time. They fog up when you come in from the cold. They get wet when it's raining or snowing. You have to clean them all the time if you are a perfectionist...

So when I finally got contacts my freshman year of college, it was a pretty big deal. I'll never forget the first time I looked in the mirror and I could see myself. Without my glasses. Without having to be half an inch from the mirror, wondering what I looked like without glasses. It was pretty exciting.

(Now, after the eye doctor put them in the first time, I had to take them out and put them in again. Which took me at LEAST a grueling hour to do. I couldn't take them with me until I figured it out. Good times....)

And now, it's nice to have the option of either glasses or contacts. Or just one contact. Which I have done in a pinch. And in case you were wondering, yes, it does mess with depth perception. And I would not recommend driving or operating heavy machinery.

I'm glad I live in a time when I have the option to SEE! Glasses or contacts, I'm just glad I don't have to live in a world of fuzziness.

Blind as a Bat. But Not As Scary.

My eyes are bad. Like, really bad. Without my glasses or contacts, I basically can't see ANYthing.

So I keep having this scary thought: What if I was stranded on an island after a plane crash (by the way, thank you, LOST for contributing to this thought. also Cast Away.) and my glasses broke? And my contacts ran out? What would I do?

Obviously, this wouldn't be the only problem I would run into on an abandoned island. But it sure would make things a lot harder!

Is it strange to worry about this, as well as try to plot out a strategy?

I should probably just hope that I am stranded with some resourceful people. It's funny, when I think of people I would like to be stranded with on an island, only characters from tv shows come to mind. Like LOST. Or Burn Notice. Shows with characters who know what they're doing.

In summary, my eyes are bad. And I really depend on my contacts. I feel like I have more to say, but I'm running out of time before work. So, to be continued...