vanity thy name is woman

Sometimes I lie in a lukewarm bath postponing getting out because of what lies ahead: deciding on what to wear, probably ironing some of the items, during which, if it's a sweatshirt, I'll inevitably find a stain requiring removal, in the process wetting most of the fabric.  If only someone would invent decent non-iron clothes....

The clothing part is only one aspect.  Added to this are the application of the following: eye drops, eye cream, facial moisturiser, body moisturiser, deodorant, sometimes medicated cream for athletes' foot, sometimes perfume, earrings, watch, sometimes pendant.  If I'm listening to Radio 4, I work my way through this list with more enthusiasm.

When ready to hit the world, I'll apply a modicum of makeup: lipstick and eyebrow pencil.  Occasionally eye cream and mascara, but I tend to use these sparingly, being allergic to some eye products and knowing that any resulting puffiness of the eye will outweigh perceived benefits of such products.

When I first started regularly wearing lipstick in my twenties, my boyfriend told me I reminded him of his mother.  I remarked on this to a knowing friend, stating that I needed to change my lipstick.  She advised me to change my boyfriend.  In time I did both.

Am I vain?  Yes, undoubtedly,  but this doesn't mean going to the bother that many women do.  At the gym I'm frequently reminded of this.  After my swim I shower, condition my hair, scramble into my clothes.  While applying the gym's free supply of hand and body moisturiser to my face (definitely losing points there), combing my hair, putting on lipstick and eyebrow pencil, I'm aware of being surrounded by women who, with the greatest concentration and focus are rubbing foundation/ even skin tone cream into their faces, applying exotic eye products, lip liner, lip gloss.

I notice them drying their hair, curling it, styling it, as I scrunch my towel-dried locks into their current wavy/curly style.  Most of those women leave the gym fit to parade on a Parisian catwalk.  I leave it looking as if I'm going home to clean my flat (unlikely) or flop down in front of the telly (highly likely).


Often I long to be able to jump out of bed, fling on a t-shirt and jeans and look terrific.

Ah well,

Jane