The Elusive Self-Esteem Boost and a Therapeutic Three-fer

If you've never had a day where you look in the mirror and think, "GodDAMN, I look good," I highly recommend it.

Spring and summer clothes and weather really are my wheelhouse. I'll also be buying more of this new makeup (aptly made by Tarte) and thanking the gods of hair for blessing my rolled-outta-bed coif today.

Sometimes a plan just comes together, and today it did, in the form of my unplanned FINE ass.

"Give it up, boys and girls. Admit it. I look GOOD!" (Don't judge me, Bette is my jam.)

P.S. I went to therapy tonight, and one of the first things she said to me, unprompted, was, "You look wonderful!" So there you go, y'all -- my cuteness is verified by a licensed professional. (My brain went full Cady-Heron-in-the-black-dress: "I KNOW, right?!")

P.P.S. Tonight's agenda: Therapy, takeout food, and Scandal. So basically a therapeutic three-fer.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_Sb7PpLoS0]

Mirror mirror...

I see a lot of guys on OkCupid who use selfies as profile pics. Sometimes mirror ones. Often the mirror is dirty.

I have questions.

First, don't you own Windex? Vinegar? A ShamWow? I can't get naked in your home if your mirror is all bedaubed with toothpaste remnants. I'm a lady, dammit. Plus it'll turn into that "Big Bang Theory" episode where Sheldon can't sleep because Penny's apartment is messy: "I couldn't sleep knowing that just outside my bedroom is our living room, and just outside our living room is that hallway, and immediately adjacent to that hallway is...THIS!" And I am damn sure not cleaning while you sleep.

Second, don't you have ANY photos someone else took? Do you have friends? Only two of my six profile pics are selfies: a really cute one taken post-haircut/color, and one mirror one I took after work so I'd have a really recent pic. The caption says: "With apologies for the mirror selfie, this is what I look like after work." (Not at all true -- after work I put on yoga pants and put my hair in a ponytail. But I'll never let any of these dudes see that.)

Some guys have like 10 selfies, but only ONE facial expression, so it's like Flat Stanley or the Twilight chick -- the same face in various settings. "Here I am at home. Here I am at work. Here I am in a bar. Here I am in a PUBLIC restroom mirror, just for a bit of added class. That's right, ladies... Behold."

Pretty Pretty Patriot/Freedom Hair

I feel guilty and shallow about how much it's changed my life to learn I can pop into a Hair Cuttery at lunchtime, give a nice lady $20, and she will wash my raggedy hair, take the 9 hours necessary to blowdry it all, and make it way prettier than I ever do.

But it IS pretty goddamn delightful. Good work, America. (FUCK, YEAH!)

In which I have no interest in sexually transmitting the common cold

The bad news: I had to postpone the other OkCupid date I had scheduled tomorrow. I still have residual plague and it really wouldn't be cute if I were coughing up my entire lung over coffee.

The good news: Now there's time to get my hair cut and colored, get various waxes and a manicure like I'm an Actual Woman, and for my menstrual cycle to end, because I'm definitely not above third base on a first date. (He gives good text; he can skip ahead a bit.)

Make way for my Dating Representative, y'all. She's virtually hairless and wears heels. It's on.

"Somethin' 'bout platinum, irrefutably..."

Pre-holiday haircut and color: "What doesn't kill you only makes you blonder..."  

That free wine they provide is half the reason I keep coming back to this salon. (Post-apartment move, it's annoyingly far.)

The other half, as I texted a friend:

Me: "My hair salon is next door to that bar with the cheesy pretzels, so I think a to-go order after my appointment is a must, no?"

Friend: "Otherwise you're just wasting your life, honestly."

I can't waste my life, you guys.

#DrunkyCheesyDestiny

(Upon reflection, I wish I'd asked Friend to join me at the bar. We could've taken my faboo hair for a test run, and she'd be a great wingman. Plus, I reiterate, cheesy pretzels.)

I probably won't end up naked, though.

I'm certainly not the first to observe this, but going to a job interview is like going on a first date.

Like, "This, right here? The smooth, curled hair and the makeup and the dress and the tights? Yeah, I will NEVER look like this when shit gets real."

I should be able to interview in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, with wet-from-the-shower hair tossed up in a half-ass ponytail, wearing sunscreen and Chapstick as makeup. That is how I will look if I work for/date you.*

It's like Chris Rock said: "You can’t get nobody looking like you look, acting like you act, sounding like you sound. When you meet somebody for the first time, you’re not meeting THEM -- you’re meeting their representative!"

Well, no one else is blowing me...

Oh, like you DON'T get your hair done so you look nice at your friend's sex toy workshop later.

Oh. 

You don't?

Well, shit. 

Look, I have to get washed and blown SOMEHOW, people. 

  

Embracing my sexuality via total embarrassment.

Today I took an Intro to Burlesque class at Kink Shoppe, which means I turned BEET red as I flaunted my flat ass in front of a room full of people, took my shirt off (tank top underneath), and had it reaffirmed that it's hot when I play with my hair.