Your Hair's Alright

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When I looked in the mirror this morning, I thought, “Your hair’s alright.” Then I took another look and said, “No. It’s really not alright.” I had plans to have lunch with my friend, and I was standing in the bathroom debating whether I needed to shower or whether I just needed a hair brush, a dab of deodorant, a spritz of Hermes, and to exchange my sweat pants and oversized t-shirt for jeans and a shirt that wasn't two sizes too big.

The past few months, I had started a new trend, one which I’m sure would never catch on, because it could really only be carried out in the comfort of your own home or town. Instead of “Casual Friday,” I had created “Casual Weekdays.” Though I loved fashion, I had unconsciously rebelled against it somewhere along the way while being unemployed.

Given that I had nowhere to go every morning, it seemed that there was no particular reason to get "dressed" first thing in the morning. I could take Iz to school wearing my sweat pants and oversized t-shirt (hereafter referred to as my “dress down” outfit), because I never had to get out of the car. I could apply for jobs online and watch Law & Order in my dress down outfit, because potential employers and Lenny Briscoe couldn’t see me wearing my outfit.

My dress down outfit was not fancy. It did not do my body justice either. But, somehow it hugged me like no other person could lately.

If I had anywhere to go, it was usually to the gym or to the bike trail. So, I only shed my dress down outfit for my cycling tights or my running shorts. While I had a vast wardrobe, I had gotten used to sporting only three outfits most days of the week.

Another important component of the dress down outfit was the Hello Kitty baseball cap. While I could pick Iz up at the bus wearing my dress down outfit, I did not have the car to hide behind; therefore, I potentially left myself open to –gasp- exposed bed head. The Hello Kitty baseball cap was crucial to covering up any remnants of “bed head.”

Biking accommodated bed head quite well; in fact, biking turned bed head into helmet head. (Somehow in my mind, it was much easier to justify messy hair when it came from exercise rather than sleep.) The Hello Kitty hat could go either way when I was faced with running at the gym; however, I hated running with a hat on.

In the case of the gym, I usually opted for the wet hair brush to smooth strands over or down. Or, I went with the “Who cares? It’s just the gym!” philosophy and didn’t do a thing to my hair. Fly aways, hair bumps, I didn't really give a damn.

Sufficed to say, I skimped in other areas. The dress down outfit didn’t require jewelry; if it shouted out for any accessorizing, it screamed for a whistle on a rope, because I often thought I looked like a gym teacher gone AWOL. If I managed to get any jewelry on, it was my pearl earrings maybe two or three times a week.

If I had to rush off anywhere in the morning, I only bothered with makeup every once in a while. I could usually muster enough of a primp for a dab of lip gloss and some face powder. But, that was it.

Every once in a while, I glanced at my lonely make up bag in the corner of the bathroom cabinet. I swore I could hear the sounds of compacts opening and closing, lipsticks smacking, and eyeliner caps popping off. They were desperately trying to get my attention; however, I was having none of that powdering, glossing, or lining!

After I took a third look in the mirror this morning, I thought, “Hmm. If I just wet my hair here and comb it over there, maybe I could get away without taking a shower before lunch.” Then I heard a voice, which sounded an awful lot like Davie Bowie say, “Calamity’s child!” “Maybe you’re right,” said Calamity Jean.

I realized I was letting myself “go,” in a direction I really didn’t want to go. It was time to change. I wanted to look good and feel good even if it was for lunch with my friend and not a job interview.

So, I put on my running shorts, went outside, ran three miles, came home, showered, and by 11:30, I was dressed in jeans, a shirt, a sweater, shoes complete with earrings and make up. I thought, “Wow, it’s only 11:30, and all of me is alright.” Most days, I was lucky if I was “alright” by 5:30pm.

At around noon, I arrived at my friend’s house with my pasta salad and a bottle of champagne; champagne is not just for anniversaries anymore, okay? She was giving me some hand-me-downs from her daughter that she thought Iz might like. In exchange, I thought the least I could do was bring lunch and some liquid festiveness.

After sorting through the items, we sat down for lunch and a glass of festiveness. Unorthodox, I know, but these are certainly some unorthodox times we’re living through. We began to chat about everything and then some, and before I knew it, she was telling me how she got up that morning, showered, dressed, and put on makeup.

I was kind of surprised that she did that, because I knew she was working a contract job from home. She told me that when her husband saw her this morning, he looked at her quizzically. Before he even asked her a question, he answered it with, “Oh. Jean’s coming over.”

When I heard that, I laughed out loud. I then described my dress down outfit to her and how most days it was accompanied by a brush of the hair, a dab of deodorant, and a spritz of Hermes. She then confessed she did similarly and told me that she couldn’t remember the last time she wore earrings. I even told her that I had gone a day and a half without a shower; of course, that was only if I hadn’t run or biked during the previous 36 hours.

I’ve said this before, but it's true. When you think you’re alone, you’re not. As we sat there talking about how life without an office to go to had transformed us, I couldn't help but feel like the hugs the dress down outfit gave me were being replaced by knowing that I was not the only one in third grade wearing Danskin stretchy pants for chubby girls.

The more we talked about it, the more we seemed to laugh about it. The dress down outfit wasn’t something you’d share with anyone. But once you walked down the runway wearing it, it was good to know that others were buying it, too. And as we continued to talk and laugh, somewhere I heard someone singing, “Looks like you've been there too.” ♥