Monday, June 05, 2006

The Prime of Miss

Okay. It’s official.

I will never be “put together.”

I had hopes, even at this advanced age. I thought that maybe, someday, given the perfect alignment of the stars and synchronization of serendipitous events that for perhaps a minute or so I might achieve that “put together look.”

But I know it is not to be. If it was going to happen, it would have happened by now. And at this stage, really what's the point?

I can tell myself that if I had the perfect shoes or if my shirt were just a tad smaller or the sleeves a little bit shorter, “the look” would be mine. But no. This will never happen.

Not only will it never happen but, if I had the perfect shoes or if my shirt were just a tad smaller or the sleeves a little bit shorter, on that particular day my hair would have a dorky cowlick. This is a given. It’s always something, to quote Roseanne Rosannadanna.

I does make me feel better to know that there are others like me. You’ve seen us. Nice outfit, nice bag, nice hairdo, and the shoes…….ooooooh, the shoes…just…miss…the … mark. Or the jewelry is too small. Or too big. Or too loud.

Perhaps we can form a support group.

Take the world’s simplest outfit to put together: t-shirt and jeans. What can go wrong? Two universal wardrobe elements. You don’t even have to check for holes anymore! You would think this would be the ideal uniform for the terminally scruffy.

But my t-shirt is never the right size. It’s either too long, too short, too big or too tight. And jeans? It’s either that the waist is up around my ribs or the crotch is down around my knees.

And should the t-shirt be the right size and the jeans fit me perfectly, there’s always, always, always the hair factor. Jeans and a t-shirt require clean, shiney, but not too pouffy hair. Casual hair. Kind of free-style, blowin’-in-the-wind but returning to flowing tandem-strand action hair. But the day my jeans and t-shirt fit would be the day I slipped with the conditioner bottle and, having taken the last shower in the household for that day, would only have cold water with which to rinse it out, resulting in lank, lifeless wavy strings. Except for the grays. They would be up and pouffy and waving a greeting to everyone.

I guarantee.

And so I am now embracing my inner and outer slob that I now realize is eternal. Don’t pity me. I know that everyone has a cross they must bear and mine is the burden of infinite dweebdom.


MammaK said...

You don't have any gray hair my dear!!!

Rainypete said...

I'm the antithesis of a fashionista myself so I say bravo to the embracing of slobdom. Not only will you stress less about what you wear but you'll feel less compelled to spend bundles of cash in the quest for that "perfect" outifit.

One tip though, that earring is a little extreme.

Jagosaurus said...

I've had to embrace my appearance flaws because I have always and will forever more look like I have just been pulled backwards through a hedge.

ericah64 said...

Oh, I feel you on this one! I've known women who somehow look put together in jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers, yet if I wear that I look like a slob. And if my weight is a bit up, there's even LESS of a chance I'll look good. Ah, well. We are who we are.

Lifecruiser said...

Hm... you made me wonder what clothes goes to a baldie...

*deep thoughts*

In the meantime I still struggle with the Einsteins sisters hairstyle...

happy and blue 2 said...

LOL. Good post. And on a subject that plagues mankind. Actually woman kind mostly.
I relish my sloppy look. As a man the part of my brain that should care is just disconnected. As it is with most men..

Jagosaurus said...

Sisiggy, I just want you to know that the very first image in this post gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Hick said...

I'm with you, girlfriend. Sigh.

mrhaney said...

my attitude is this. if you don't like my looks to bad. who needs ya. if they can't get past the outside appearance then they will not try to know the real you any way.

Katrina said...

That first picture scared me so much I almost could read this one. I had to put my thumb over it so I could look away.

*shudders convulsively*