Has anybody seen my mojo? It flew the coop.
I’m gonna be brutally honest with you (and myself) right now. I look rough. My hair looks rough, my skin looks rough, my body looks soft and squishy, and my feet…actually my feet look pretty good. Pink nail polish and a little lotion on my heels before bed really works wonders. But the rest of me is in bad shape.
I’ve written about this before. My appearance isn’t my top priority anymore. I have about 20 minutes to get ready each morning and I usually spend five of them doing a final edit of a blog post and getting it up on this site. Then my son usually breaks free from his captor (i.e. Daddy) and comes wandering into my room while I’m getting ready and peppers me with questions. Or rather question, singular. “What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?” and on and on until I stop doing anything just so he’ll stop asking. Also, he always steals my big comb and I have to keep one eye on it so I’ll know where it is after he gets done with it because otherwise I’ll have a hell of a time combing my hair after my shower at night. Just sayin’.
So, the process of getting ready isn’t a long one or an indulgent one. Plus, I’m kind of a moron when it comes to doing hair. I do pretty well with make-up though I don’t take a lot of time to do it and I sure know how to pick clothes to disguise all the lumps and bumps and asymetries and my big fat ass. But what’s the use of make-up when the skins it’s going on has the tone and texture of a kitchen sponge? And who wants their clothes to be, first and foremost, camouflage for the US Strategic Reserve of Cellulite?
On top of all of that I have turned into a human garbage scow and I shovel all kinds of crap into my mouth on a daily basis. You think I’m joking? I bought a 12 pack of Che Boyardee stuff and Ive been eating it without shame at work for lunch. I’m not sure Chef Boyardee even really counts as food. It’s more like a prototype of the food substitutes of the future, sort of like the freeze dried astronaut ice cream you can get at the gift shop of the Air and Space Museum. I’m also drinking too much soda, eating too much ice cream and and I ran out of calcium supplements and haven’t gotten around to getting more. If I am what I eat, I am artificially sweetened, carbo-loaded, riddled with high fructose corn syrup, and embody the dietary equivalent of brittle bone disease.
And exercise? I just had to look up how to spell exercise.
Ladies (and the very few gentlemen who are willing to wade through this much feminine whining), I need to go on a mojo hunt and fix this hot mess up.
Thus begins my new quest to look better, feel better about myself, and regain the good-health ground I’ve lost since giving over my energy to focusing on the health of a small child instead of myself. Watch this space over the next few weeks for my Beauty:Top Down antics. Why top down? Because I’m going t kick this off with my hair. I’ve already bought a flat iron and dug out my supply of styling products and I’m going to try and make my hair my Crowning Glory. Hopefully without burning myself to pieces with the flat iron. After I get my hair in hand, I’m going to get serious about skin care and punch up my make-up routine. It’ll be like being my very own Barbie styling head. After that I’ll keep on moving down the line. We’re talking self-tanner, nail maintenance, a Chef Boyardee-free diet to help shed these pounds and yeah, even some exercise. And I will blog it all faithfully. Because nothing is funnier than the idea of me pulling my creaky old bones out of my bed at 6am to sneak in a 30 minute walk before starting my day, during which I will probably slip and fall on one of the many piles of goose shit on the sidewalk in my neighborhood. Because I’m classy like that.
And did I mention that everything I try will have to be really cheap? Because I’m really broke?
So stay tuned, friends. It’s a drugstore beauty world here and I’m gonna try and make it my own.