It's uber-gray and dreary today. Ugh. Durwood's got a doctor's appointment and that may be the only reason we get out of our jammies. I should go and get my nails done; it's time for a fill. I get acrylic nails, have for years, because I can't grow them, no way no how. My actual nails are thin and bendy and splitty so I get the acrylic ones and have them cut very short so that it looks like I have fingernails. A friend told me once that having nice nails is "the only beauty regimen that you can see yourself." She's right. You get your hair done, others see it. You wear nice clothes, others see. I get my nails done, I can look at them and think "I look good" even when the rest of me looks like the dog's dinner. I'm not a beauty girl. I stopped wearing makeup fifteen years ago, not that I ever wore much to begin with, but now I wear none. Oh, I moisturize my skin I just don't slap makeup over it. I've never had the hair gene. I can't fix a style, I comb my hair, it lays on my head, that's it. I used to get a perm, then I had a bit of style but it grew out and it was getting more and more expensive so I got this short cut and quit having a style. I comb it and use a styling product so it stays where I comb it. I wear the same clothes--jeans (long or capri), t-shirts (long- or short-sleeved depending on the season), pullover sweaters in winter, cardigans in spring and fall, and mismatched socks except in the dead of winter when I wear thick thick thick socks to keep my feet warm at work--that I've worn for years. No, really, my jeans are about 15 years old except for one pair that's only 2 years old, many of my tees are ancient but still in good repair, and Eddie Bauer quit making my favorite sweater over 10 years ago but I have, oh, about 8 of them in various colors that I wear constantly. What? That's what I like. I've knitted some bright scarves and shawls that I throw over the top and I'm good to go. I'm not trendy, no sirree, not me. Good god, I just realized how boring I am. Good thing I've got a personality (and mismatched socks) or I'd be invisible.
February 26--Christian Francis Roth, Dress. Pink and purple, pink and purple, those were the only colors Leeza liked and she painted every room in her house either pink or purple or pink and purple. She only like those colors. She drove a pink Toyota Camry and she had to have it custom painted. The summer after graduation she put a purple rinse in her light brown hair that made her skin look green. She didn't care. No one who knew her would have been surprised to discover that her blood flowed pink and purple too. It didn't. It was good old, all-American red blood, and it was all over the garage floor as it pumped out of the crushed back of her skull.
That's what she got for being a grown up woman who only liked pink and purple. Tsk. I hope your day's less blah than mine appears to be. Maybe I'll wear red shoes to liven things up.