Get Over Yourself

If you are having an issue with vanity, I know how you can get over yourself.

Be on live television.

Dear Lord.

First, any of you women out there that go to great trouble every morning to "put your face on", I commend you. Or, maybe I think you're nuts. I'm not sure which.

This morning I carefully put on make-up. A lot of make-up; because I was going to be on television. I was sure that if I looked down, it would all fall off my face,; it felt so thick.

I dressed carefully; getting Daughter's opinion about which earrings looked better.

I have a bright red, wool jacket that is very nice, and I thought a black sweater and black slacks with this jacket would be just the ticket.

I chose my expensive wool slacks, and my favorite sleeveless black sweater.

I worked on my hair, making it "bigger", if you know what I mean.

I thought I looked pretty sharp.

So, we get in the car, and as I sit down, I see in the natural light my expensive slacks are navy.

So, black everything and navy pants. I didn't have time to change, plus I knew I would only be seen from the waist up because I'd be sitting behind a table, so it only put a small chink in my confidence.

I was seated and a mic put on me. I was sitting, pretty relaxed, actually, when I accidentally saw myself in the big old TV monitor before we went live.

What the heck was my grandmother doing here?

Not my mother, no sirree. I could see Viola's chin, my grandmother's chin,  clear as day.

I had to suck it up and be cheerful, as though I had not seen this atrocity while dressed in my accidental navy pants.

I guess it went okay, but I will tell you: if you are over forty, be very, very careful what you agree to do.

Your grandma could show up and shove you out of the way and take over.

Confessions of a Slob

I admit it; I'm a slob.

Before I retired, no one knew I was a slob. Husband barely knew it. He thought I just dressed that way on house cleaning Saturdays or really bad sick baby days.

But in my heart, I was always dressed like that.

After I retired, I stopped wearing make-up to the grocery store (gasp).

Then I fell, and my whole appearance went to pot.

At first it was because I was in so much agony.

Then it was because I had surgery.

Then it was because I was recuperating from surgery.

Then, I like, you know, never recuperated from pajamas.

Today I am dressed thusly: granny drawers (I know, I know, T.M.I.), sweat pants that are too short (they were a good brand, but drew up length wise. If they'd drawn up like any self-respecting sweat pants in a sideways fashion, I could have given them to Daughter), a man's undershirt, a t-shirt and a sweat shirt. No mention of a certain undergarmet to go under the shirts, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. Plus socks and house shoes that I've taken to wearing everywhere, unless it rains.

I will say in my defense that the shoes look like  soft leather moccasins. Sort of.

When I do go to town, or church on Wednesday nights, I wear appropriate clothing, except for the shoes, of course.

I wear make-up and dress clothes on Sunday morning.

I'll wear them if anyone wants to give me an award, have a dinner in my honor, or any other such wonderful thing.

But you really have to mean it.