The Robed Wonder & Her Wooly Mammoth

The telephone rang.

It was Rhonda next door, asking if my third-born daughter

could play with her third-born, a daughter, who happens to be the same age, size 

and similar disposition as my daughter. Her older two are in school, and as it was her little girl's third birthday, she VERY kindly invited mine over to play for the morning. 

I could not get my daughter dressed fast enough.

I was so eager to send her over thankful that my daughter had 

an exclusive invitation to play with her best little girlfriend,

that before Rhonda could change her mind I actually tore out of the house, 

through the gate,

across the side yard 

(the very open and visible by the busy road side yard)

looking like this-except worse because you cannot see my 

make-upless face and bedhead hair because I was afraid the

camera lens would shatter at the full view:

I took a picture to post and shame myself into never

dipping to this low again. While it's not "What I Wore Wednesday" (a popular blog meme),

I will indulge you with an itemized look at my wardrobe, so perhaps you can 

feel better about yourself or, if you're blind, copy the look:

Shoes: Hand-me-down clogs with missing insoles, $0.

Socks: fold-over white socks, Wal-Mart, purchased 3 years ago. I'll say .75 per pair

Robe: Crabtree & Evelyn, Wedding Shower Gift, $0.

House Dress (Night wear): Exhilaration, "New" from Target, purchased at Goodwill $4.00

***

This is life. We do not have to look pageant-worthy at any given moment of the day.I accept that, with relief. Call it old-fashioned, and even in leaving plenty of room for "real life", I still feel it important to put some effort into my appearance since I am fortunate enough to have a good man who comes home to me every evening. On the days that a shower eludes me first thing, I find myself having to make a conscious decision to get myself together and  look presentable at some point during the day. If my husband were honest, and in this case he's smart enough not to be, he would tell you that it doesn't always happen. Still, I try to make it the exception, not the rule. Aside from all that shades-of-1950's-housewife discourse, being presentable makes a huge difference for me. Huge. In my mind, it helps distinguish the work horse/maid/butler/feces wiper I sometimes FEEL like from the woman I KNOW I am beneath all the hats I wear.

***

To scrape up any small measure of dignity left, I will show you a vastly different picture. You will be surprised to know that it features the very same woman as pictured above. It was taken before a night out with her hot lover man (also her husband) before a company Christmas dinner. I had displayed this in a post which I later deleted because sometimes I feel I share too much and writer's regret nags me until I make the post disappear to wherever Google hides it. The one comment I received in the brief inkling of time in which the post existed, Debbie mentioned that my hot lover looked JUST like Harrison Ford (by the way, Debbie, I'm praying for speedy recovery from your cataract surgery!). He had read this comment, and liked it...almost as much as he likes his new facial hair.

I am not sure if this is some sort of 'rite of passage' or if he is merely reveling in the fact that, finally in his forties he is able to grow something more than a five o'clock shadow. It didn't help that apparently five women at one of his clients told him how positively YOUNG it made him look (I knew my clean-shaven case was over when I heard this). It also did not assist my "please-for-the-love-shave-your-whiskers" cause when I offhandedly mentioned one night as we were channel flipping and came across Jeff Bridges, that I find him attractive ( I know. I'm weird. I also like Neil Diamond's music if that puts it all together for you).

Either way, I will continue to think he is quite handsome and I will continue to shower, shave my legs and spray a little perfume behind the ear for him. 

He might be a wooly mammoth, but he's a good and loving wooly mammoth

so I will  complain. He certainly doesn't when he watches his wife walk around in her nine year old robe, folded over socks and matted down hair. The Robed Wonder and her Wooly Mammoth...a down-to-earth match made in Heaven.