...and 3 Ugly Ones
I've never been much good at being a girl. Growing up, my brother was who I spent most of my time with simply because my two sisters were 4 and 6 years older (and thus, way too cool to be seen with me).
As a result, I was quite a tomboy. I played every sport you could think of, even playing on a YMCA basketball team in the 2nd grade because there weren't enough girls to form a YWCA team. I wanted a BMX instead of a Schwinn, turning my nose up at any bike that would look stupid going over a dirt mound (which we considered "ramps"). I could climb almost any tree faster than most boys at my school. My grandmother once told me to quit picking my scabs because 'when I was a young lady and wore stockings I would be sorry I had all of those scars'. I remember turning away and scornfully muttering to myself, "I will never be a young lady". You get the idea.
Through most of college and into my post-college years, I never really wore makeup, never gave a shit about how my hair looked, and only painted my nails when I wanted to avoid studying for tests. And yet I wondered why boys never paid attention to me. After all, I was funny, goddammit. And smart. And would do my damnedest to beat them at arm wrestling even if I knew I couldn't.
And then, came my epiphany.
A co-worker of mine knew I liked going to see bands, and she had a crash on a boy. In a band. Would I please come along as the wing[wo]man?
I'm a supportive friend, so of course I did. We agreed to meet outside the club at 10. I arrived in my standard uniform: Chuck Taylors, check. Jeans, check. Ironic little league tshirt, check. Hooded sweatshirt? Of course, it's cold out. When I got there, she was standing outside, shivering in a tank top, tight black pants, high heels, and a crocheted sweater. Her hair had been curled into ringlets, she was in full makeup, and she was surrounded by boys.
Ahhhhh...I think I get it now.
After that night, I dabbled a bit in the mascara. And then I worked my way into the lipstick, which was generally of a soft pink color so as to not to make me appear hoor-ish. Eventually I made my way into blush, perfumes, eyeshadow, and waxing. I am now a legitimate girl, yes?
So legitmate, in fact, that my husband frequently rolls his eyes when I bring home a new product. But I know that I have officially entered girlyhood when I start to swear by certain products and companies.
For example, I only allow myself to be waxed by Belinda. I only get facials done at SkinLogic because they aren't too foofy, and because I spend most of the time laughing my ass off with the estheticians, who are hi-larious. Benefit makes the best blush ever (it smells like roses, and works on your lips too), and I only use their mascara. I am a recent convert of this product (thanks, Shelly!), which smells of lavender and makes my skin look great. Oh, and adidas makes the best anti-perspirant ever. I am not kidding.
But yesterday I truly blossomed into my emerging womanhood. For I bought myself an ionic hairdryer.
For all of you women who wonder why your hair is so soft after you leave the salon? It's not the shampoo they use, nor is it their fancy conditioner. It's not even the fact that they comb your hair a billion, trillion times. It's this thing.
Now mind you, I stood in front of these stupid blowdryers yesterday for a good 5 minutes, then paced around the store for another 10, trying to talk myself out of this purchase. But I did my homework and read as many reviews as possible, and they all seemed to say the same thing: believe the hype. These things will rock your head in a way you never thought possible.
So finally I broke down and grabbed this dryer, because if I was going to be a sucker, by God, I was only going to be a $130 sucker (you can spend as much as $300 for these things). And also? I could be a traveling sucker as well because it folds up. Isn't that handy? Then I got in line, where I continued to curse myself for my stupidity and basically feel like an asshole.
But today, I am a changed woman. After showering I begrudgingly plugged my new dryer in, and went to town. And I gotta tell you, this thing really is awesome. My hair dried really fast, and it is incredibly soft. And smooth. With fewer flyaways. Just as advertised! Just think what it would be like if I'd spent $300! Oh, to know the bliss!
So here I am, proselytizing to the masses. Because if a non-girl such as myself believes in this shit, it's got to be good.
Now if only I could find a pair of heels that don't make me want to cut my own legs off....
As a result, I was quite a tomboy. I played every sport you could think of, even playing on a YMCA basketball team in the 2nd grade because there weren't enough girls to form a YWCA team. I wanted a BMX instead of a Schwinn, turning my nose up at any bike that would look stupid going over a dirt mound (which we considered "ramps"). I could climb almost any tree faster than most boys at my school. My grandmother once told me to quit picking my scabs because 'when I was a young lady and wore stockings I would be sorry I had all of those scars'. I remember turning away and scornfully muttering to myself, "I will never be a young lady". You get the idea.
Through most of college and into my post-college years, I never really wore makeup, never gave a shit about how my hair looked, and only painted my nails when I wanted to avoid studying for tests. And yet I wondered why boys never paid attention to me. After all, I was funny, goddammit. And smart. And would do my damnedest to beat them at arm wrestling even if I knew I couldn't.
And then, came my epiphany.
A co-worker of mine knew I liked going to see bands, and she had a crash on a boy. In a band. Would I please come along as the wing[wo]man?
I'm a supportive friend, so of course I did. We agreed to meet outside the club at 10. I arrived in my standard uniform: Chuck Taylors, check. Jeans, check. Ironic little league tshirt, check. Hooded sweatshirt? Of course, it's cold out. When I got there, she was standing outside, shivering in a tank top, tight black pants, high heels, and a crocheted sweater. Her hair had been curled into ringlets, she was in full makeup, and she was surrounded by boys.
Ahhhhh...I think I get it now.
After that night, I dabbled a bit in the mascara. And then I worked my way into the lipstick, which was generally of a soft pink color so as to not to make me appear hoor-ish. Eventually I made my way into blush, perfumes, eyeshadow, and waxing. I am now a legitimate girl, yes?
So legitmate, in fact, that my husband frequently rolls his eyes when I bring home a new product. But I know that I have officially entered girlyhood when I start to swear by certain products and companies.
For example, I only allow myself to be waxed by Belinda. I only get facials done at SkinLogic because they aren't too foofy, and because I spend most of the time laughing my ass off with the estheticians, who are hi-larious. Benefit makes the best blush ever (it smells like roses, and works on your lips too), and I only use their mascara. I am a recent convert of this product (thanks, Shelly!), which smells of lavender and makes my skin look great. Oh, and adidas makes the best anti-perspirant ever. I am not kidding.
But yesterday I truly blossomed into my emerging womanhood. For I bought myself an ionic hairdryer.
For all of you women who wonder why your hair is so soft after you leave the salon? It's not the shampoo they use, nor is it their fancy conditioner. It's not even the fact that they comb your hair a billion, trillion times. It's this thing.
Now mind you, I stood in front of these stupid blowdryers yesterday for a good 5 minutes, then paced around the store for another 10, trying to talk myself out of this purchase. But I did my homework and read as many reviews as possible, and they all seemed to say the same thing: believe the hype. These things will rock your head in a way you never thought possible.
So finally I broke down and grabbed this dryer, because if I was going to be a sucker, by God, I was only going to be a $130 sucker (you can spend as much as $300 for these things). And also? I could be a traveling sucker as well because it folds up. Isn't that handy? Then I got in line, where I continued to curse myself for my stupidity and basically feel like an asshole.
But today, I am a changed woman. After showering I begrudgingly plugged my new dryer in, and went to town. And I gotta tell you, this thing really is awesome. My hair dried really fast, and it is incredibly soft. And smooth. With fewer flyaways. Just as advertised! Just think what it would be like if I'd spent $300! Oh, to know the bliss!
So here I am, proselytizing to the masses. Because if a non-girl such as myself believes in this shit, it's got to be good.
Now if only I could find a pair of heels that don't make me want to cut my own legs off....