Dressy Bessy

Here's a quirk of which I've only recently become aware: I have this thing about watching people getting their makeup done. It's relaxing to me, almost hypnotic. This is at odds with my personal makeup regimen, I suppose, which consists of moisturizer and lip balm. A dab of mascara, perhaps even eyeliner on a special occasion. As with most things, I like to expend as little effort as possible, plus I figure if people are used to me sans paint, I'm not in danger of being caught without my face on. But any time I flip by a TV show where they're showing how to apply bronzer or eyeshadow I have to watch for awhile and my blood pressure suddenly drops.

I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a tomboy, and it's not like I don't want to look good, just that I have little patience with anything beyond basic grooming. That goes for clothing, too. Occasionally I watch a bit of  Say Yes to the Dress when I'm pumping and the fact that this kind of show exists boggles my mind, probably because, for one, I can't imagine spending that much money on an article of clothing that will be worn for a few hours. And the women they show on there a lot of the time, they are so spoiled and out of touch with reality. I can't stand people who think their time is more important than yours. Probably what bothers me most about the show though is that these women take their entire families to help them pick out a dress and then they're all conflicted when everyone offers their opinions. I HATE shopping, but I hate even more the idea of someone helping me shop. Ask Mike, if I ever ask your opinion on how something looks, it means I really want to hear it, because I ask like once every five years. I guess you could say I keep my own counsel.

So I'm going to help my sister find her bridal gown this weekend--it's one of those "running of the brides" free-for-all sales--and surprisingly I'm not all het up about it, probably because the gown is for her and not for me. In conclusion, I'm just a mess of contradictions.

Happy Thursday!