July 23, 2008
I’m a girl again. I have perfume on. A low-cut dress and sexy bra underneath. I have on real diamonds and a fake Rolex. I have rings on my fingers and I’ve straightened my hair from its natural frizzbomb state. I put on mascara and eye shadow. I have everything girly I can have on and even my legs are smooth and silky. But one thing is a compromise: I have on my rubber Crocs sandals. This shooting ground is muck and mire as far as the eye can see. We’re going to dinner with a shooting friend of John’s, a nice Italian place we visited last week when we were getting the camper estimated for repairs. Now we’re back for measuring.
But I’m smarter now. I rented a car which will be delivered to me tomorrow morning, and while John is canoodling with his shooting buddies, and getting some last-gasp adjustments to things like the satellite system etc., I’m going to the mall. I’m headed for the nail salon to fix my broken thumbnail and feel like a girl for another day. My shopping list includes another strapless bra, a pretty top, and just maybe a set of hot rollers.
Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
Betty
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I’ve missed out on a lot. I didn’t know until I read this that I’m not a girl. I don’t have a low cut dress, or use perfume, nor do I own any rings let alone diamonds. I wore a wedding ring for a little while, until it got caught in the baby’s safety pins and my skin started itching from the soggy skin underneath it. But there is hope, my hair is long. I suspect its straight from the sheer weight of it and never having had a prune. Is that cheating? I did try eye shadow once. And masacra. My eyelids stuck together. I was 14. Trying to get into a nightclub with a girlfriend (You know… the girls from the Catholic school can’t bear to miss a Thing.) Never saw any reason to wear the eyestuff having observed my peers only ever using it to hide the truth. It didn't make them more beautiful in my eyes. I did buy a bra recently, and that’s only because a deah friend pointed out to me she couldn’t tell the difference between my tummy and my chest anymore. I had a momentary lapse of reason. I even got it fitted. That lasted about a month after numerous sore backs and difficulty breathing. The price was too high. Going out to dinner? Oh yeah I did that once. I seem to recall some sparkling NY woman insisting we eat at Ralf’s in Manhatten. Prior to that I thought a good feed was two vege and a rissole. I now know its 2 pork chops the size of kiwi dinner plates and a big tip for the waitress. (I’m worried Betty. Please post your daily food intake and your budget for tipping. I care about you.) As for hot rollers and a nail salon? The closest I can do is maybe a ride in a hotted up V8 and my own carpenters pinny? Nails supplied. Then you saved me. You mentioned crocs. I must be a compromise girl. I’ve got crocs. I was feeling quite left out until then.
I needed clarity though. So, I looked up the definition of ‘girl.’
A female child, from birth to the age of puberty; a young maiden.
Gawd, I felt better. You were just kidding.
Post a Comment