schmesolution.

One of my new year's resolutions was to be a little more put-together. You know. Wear make-up. Fix my hair. Something.

Well, I'm not sorry to report that it's November and I am sitting in the library wearing hand-me-down jeans, an ancient hoodie (I'm talking middle school, people), and no makeup. To be completely transparent, I didn't shower today. Even contacts were too much for me to deal with and so I'm wearing my glasses.

It's just the way I am. Is this wrong? I refuse to believe it should be my lot in life to spend precious minutes matching colors and painting on powders and blotting lipstick. I don't know. I could be wrong. This is why I left the south. 

My sister came to visit last January. She and Dad drove 12 hours through a snow storm to get to Kansas City. I knew they would be exhausted and stressed when they arrived. As soon as they piled in the door, I greeted them with hugs and offered food, a hot drink, my warm bed, the bathroom, whatever they needed to rest from their long and arduous journey. My sweet sister looked at me with sparkling blue eyes framed with eye-liner and mascara and asked: "Do you have any hair-spray?" 

I blinked at her a couple of times, then turned silently and walked down the hall where I rummaged deep into the contents of my bathroom closet until I came up with a can of old, cheap hairspray. I handed it to her and watched as she stood in front of my mirror and liberally sprayed the liquid glue all over her head, shaking her blonde curls like Farrah Fawcett in a summer breeze. There was a look of tranquility on her face. When she was done, she turned to me and said; "It just doesn't feel right without hair-spray". 

Someone tell me how we're related.