It’s so beautiful outside that it almost feels artificial. Instead of being outside and enjoying this maddening majestic weather, I’m sitting at a little round table in Starbucks slithering around in my paleness along with a few other laptop lurkers drinking high priced coffee’s.
I was going to go hiking, but found myself at Micheal’s art supply store scanning oil paint sets for beginner’s (using the iPhone app that scans items to see if you can get them cheaper somewhere else). I still really want to start painting so I can make massive amounts of money so I can go to school, maybe move out, pay my debt – basically I have a shit load of shit to do that require’s a shit load of money. Why not use my natural talents for something lucrative? I’ve been such a dope this whole time.
My hair smells really good today.
Okay, this brings me to a major problem I’ve been having lately. Yes, my hair smells good, but why share that bit of info with you? Let me explain my newest derangement….
Damn, Dave is leaving work now. I’m supposed to go meet him for happy Tuesday.
I have a few minutes, let me quickly explain the self-deluted pickle I created for myself.
I’ve been telling my friends that there comes a time in every woman’s life when she starts wearing makeup. For me that age was 31. With wearing make-up, and caring about my appearance, a whole new slew of thought introduced itself to me.
I’m the type of girl who usually keeps her hair up, eat’s a greasy slice of pizza then wipe’s her mouth on her hoodie (or the knee of her jeans). My skin never felt foundation, my eyes, unshadowed and my lips visited by chapstick – not lip gloss.
My jeans were always two sizes too big.
Everything has changed in the course of a few weeks and it all started with a bit of mascara. Applying mascara forces me to look at myself while applying it and make flirtatious comments at my reflection such as, “Oh don’t you look nice today, Melanie. You’re eyes are popping my dear! Gorgeous. Oh just a little more on this eye to spread the lash a bit more…..perfect!”
And then throughout the day, being a woman with downward sloping eyes, I have to keep checking the mirror to see if I have black gunk in the corner of my eye.
See, there it is. One of my biggest pet peeves when I notice this on myself or others.
Mascara was the gateway makeup. From there I added lip gloss, eyeliner, eyeshadow and cover up.
Then came the clothes. I buy skirts now – skinny jeans, bikini’s, fedora’s and big sunglasses. For me I can never have too many accessories. I load myself up with bracelets, rings, necklaces.
I just gotten my first mani-pedi yesterday and started counting calories on an iPhone app. It seems I’m just getting worse.
I’m spiraling into egomania. Solipsism. My phone is contributing to this mess by giving me access to a camera that allows me to come face-to-face with my blooming beauty. I’m also becoming delusional. I write a blog – that can’t help my megalomania.
Every time I walk past a mirror, I have to look at myself. It’s not just for checking my makeup, but checking out my bod as well. I have to stop this, I know, but like everything I do, I’m like a juggernaut. Once I get going I just keep going and going. No matter how exhausted or sick I am, I have to keep going.
Speaking of going, I have to meet Dave. I’m going to try to be myself. Whenever I consciously tell myself to just be me, my obsession with myself withers. Let’s just hope it works this time cause I don’t like this one-demensional thing I got going on. If I have to start wearing baggy jeans and old tank tops again, I will.
I’m trying to be better today. I fished out a dirty t-shirt out of my still-unpacked suitcase to wear with some not-so skinny green pants that I have rolled up to my calves. I’m sloppy. I’m comfortable with sloppy. I wear sloppy well.
I also feel I’ve been distancing myself from other’s – it’s so crazy how I adopted all these new habits just from applying mascara!
Okay, I have to go meet my sweetie pie, Dave. He’s actually not my sweetie pie, I shouldn’t say that. Being an egomaniac, I think of everyone as my sweetie pie. I don’t know why.
Just be myself. Just be myself. I really like myself, I’m cool – no, stop it. Just be yourself, Melanie and you’ll be okay. And stop referring to yourself in third person.