Today is my once-weekly *Day of Beauty* ... which of course means that I look completely hideous.
I don't care.
It is almost 2 p.m. on a sunny Sunday afternoon, as I write this, and I'm still sitting here wearing David's ancient Tom Petty T-shirt and a pair of men's plaid boxer shorts. The T-shirt is sporting a maple syrup stain over the left breast; the boxer shorts are ventilated by a demure, quarter-inch hole in the butt. I've got
This is my Sunday *ensemble.*
No undergarments. No shoes. No Maybelline. I wouldn't answer a knock at the door right now if it was God Himself, delivering me a triple tall French Vanilla latte and the finished screenplay for *FootNotes: The Movie.*
[God: "I want to play the part of Peter Cave, OK?"]
There is a thin layer of stiff white goo spread across
my face and neck. In approximately four and a half minutes I will go into the bathroom and peel it all off, in long, thin, sticky strips ... just like we used to peel Elmer's from our fingertips in third grade. Then I will apply the Refreshing Skin-Revitalizing Astringent ... the Amazing Age-Defying Pore Reducer ... the Invisible Acne-Never-Really-Goes-Away Treatment ... the $45 Per Fudking Oz. Retinol ... and the Soothing Eye Mask [guaranteed to make me look like The World's Most Incredibly Well-Rested 42 Yr. Old Grandmother-To-Be].
Ten minutes after that, I will finally climb into the shower to rinse out the L'Oreal Excellence Revitalizing Color Creme #6G. [I'm sorry, Miss Clairol. I know that you and I have enjoyed an exclusive relationship for the last few years ... but we both know that the chemistry has been *off* between us lately. It's time for us both to let go. Besides: L'Oreal comes with groovier plastic gloves.]
Aprés shower, I will deforest my legs ... trim that stoopid black neck-hair for the bazillionth goddamn time this week ... pluck my eyebrows ... and smear something smooshy and vaguely toothpaste-scented, all over my legs and my elbows and my feet.
And then, feeling clean and refreshed and beautified and ready for anything ...
... I'll curl up in bed with my new library books and eat candy bars for the rest of the afternoon.
I wish every was Beauty Day.
about half a gallon of Vaseline Intensive Care slathered on both feet, and I'm wearing a pair of orange and black pumpkin socks [a gift from FifiOToole, a Hallowe'en or two back] over the whole greasy mess.