14 March, 2013

mirror, mirror

there, in the mirror, stands a woman who is past her prime. this is something that i didn't think would bother me so much, what with all the feminist self-awareness stuff that i wholeheartedly subscribe to, but hot dog, i seem to be in the midst of a real life mid-life crisis.
symptoms - some serious navel-gazing. annoyingly so. i look and look and notice how my eyes are drooping and the smiley lines are no longer going away and the bed sheet wrinkles stay embossed on my arm skin for a long long time and instead of just shrugging, i get pissed off. because, damn it, it wasn't supposed to happen to me. because somehow i was supposed to get my very own temporal loophole and not grow old.

and yes, i realise i'm not old per se, but i am no longer young. i get more and more why people have children (or, maybe to be clearer, what use children serve in people's lives, beyond the purely practical considerations of bringing you another glass of wine when you can't get up) - when you have children, there is continuity, there is youth and your own silent slump into decrepitude is no longer quite as important. you have distractions: look, maddison is on "girls gone wild"(again)! behold, jayden has developed an oxycontin addiction! oh my, emma has won the lacrosse tournament! and so on... whereas i have merely the intellectual struggles of grad school to keep my mind's eye focused away from the slowly loosening collagen in my delicate under-eye area (as the industry calls it) and 'twould be good, if i wasn't surrounded by a group of 20-30 year olds whose firm bits and pieces make me reconsider my self-imposed anti-plastic surgery position.

now don't fret. it's unlikely that i will turn myself into a fully plasticized clone of the kardashian clan, but it's odd how much i'm feeling the slipping away of something good about myself. and as shallow as this is, it's true. i know there's more to me than a face and body but i still miss being me. i feel that the face i see in the mirror resembles me less and less and i wonder when my self-knowledge will catch up and i will see me again and not some lightly worn out stranger.

i always prided myself on a realistic self-respect and self-love, and that seems to be slipping along with my formerly firm bits. so, here's a question to all of you who are older than i am - when and how does one reach a zen-like state of acceptance?

somebody get me a travel brochure!

c and i were texting yesterday morning about a group of annoying doorknobs who manage to be 30 - 45 min late to class every single time. i speculated that perhaps it was a cultural thing before realising that clearly wasn't the case - they were from all over, really. so just natural douchebaggery, i guess.

moi: yup, assholandia is a big country with many citizens.

c: i visit occasionally. great beaches.

11 March, 2013

hats off!

i put lush henna in my hair today. one of the problems with short hair is that the roots show a lot more, and my roots, let's just say they're losing colour. fast.
i love the effect of lush's henna, but the process is arduous. you grate the henna-cocoa butter blocks, mix them with hot water, goop the resulting mess on your head, which you then cover with a plastic bag. thus attired, i came downstairs, grabbed one of the bag clips hanging on the fridge to keep the plastic turban from slipping and, having found myself rather chilly, topped it all off with a hand-knit toque.

it's almost time to go wash it all off and it's warmed up in here quite a bit so i slipped the toque off just a few minutes ago. the fabulous roommate came down to make himself a cup of tea and i showed off my plastic turban held together with a bag clip.

fabulous roommate: is that what the toque was covering up?

moi: yup.

f.r.: well, then that toque is a fashion sin!!!



i always had a secret inkling that i look fantastic in plastic.