Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Yet Another Reason *I* Can Never Be a Girly-Girl...

Okay, so I'm 42 years old, and I paid for my first ever manicure and pedicure about a month ago. Actually, since I'm not the breadwinner in the family, I put the charge on the grocery credit card. . .even at the risk of giving my perpetually coupon-toting CPA husband a coronary episode. Ha! He pays thirteen bucks for a haircut and has no idea how much a woman can spend on a haircut at a real salon.

Well, the $48 bucks to have someone else paint my fingernails and toenails a clear color that wasn't even noticeable didn't give him a coronary after all. In fact, he smiled and said something to the effect that he's grateful I'm not a shopaholic-spend-money-like-water girly girl. Amen to that, brotha! Seriously, even when you don't consider the $6 lip glosses (and it felt like plastic goo on my lips, not moisturizing like a plain old cheapo version of Chapstick) and the $50 coifs, being a girly girl is simply not for me.

I say that with no malice toward anyone who is a girly girl. In fact, I envy you if you are one of those glamorous creatures whose hair and nails and clothes are always immaculate. A glam girl could choose to wear an old t-shirt, worn jeans, and messy hair, and she'd look like a million bucks. I always wear old t-shirts (never, ever, throw away a t-shirt that is ten or more years old), worn out threadbare jeans (Levi's if my little brother has had a fat phase and gives me hand-me-downs, otherwise cheapo Faded Glory's from Wally-World), and messy hair (because it refuses to look any other way, even when concreted to my head with 43 different magical hair solutions). . . and I generally look like $1.59.

I just can't do it. No matter how hard I've tried at times, I can not be a girly-girl because I just don't know how to do it. For your giggling pleasure, I shall now leave you with a list of failed attempts, observations, and reasons why being a girly-girl is not attainable for me:

  • Case in point-- the $48 manicure and pedicure with clear nail polish. I work with my hands. My nails grow fast, and I whack them off with the clippers. The day I went for the manicure and pedicure, my fingernails were so short that putting any color on them would've been akin to dipping just the very end of a fat bratwurst into a little dab of ketchup-- what's the point?
  • Ah, the orange hair episode, that one is a good reason why I shall treat my grays as natural highlights for my dark brown hair. Dark brown hair with blonde highlights sprinkled through it is very pretty. . .until the stylist mistakenly tries a shade too light for your dark hair and presents you with orange hair that she cheerily dubs "strawberry". That was bad enough, but then I decided to fix it myself and ended up with goth black hair that would not lighten to my natural dark brown, no matter how much I pleaded with the gods and goddesses of Clairol-land.
  • Ever watch "What Not to Wear"? Yeah, me, too, once upon a time. Not any more. What's the point? Cute shoes in my size 7 1/2 are always sold out or only available in those stores where they ask you for a current credit report before allowing you in the door. And clothes? Have you tried to find that new section in the stores, the one where the clothes fit middle age bodies but don't look like they came from your 80 year old cousin's wardrobe (which always looks incredible on her, by the way, even if it's not my style).
  • Freckles and pores-- I have them. You could spackle on foundation and powder an inch thick on my face, and there would still be at least one freckle or mole screaming, "Look at me!"
  • Skip this one if you don't want to hear a slightly catty observation. The messy hair thing-- it's just not possible for my hair to stay in place, and I've come to like it this way. Used to be, back in the 80's and early 90's, messy hair was not a bad thing at all. Ah, I could do that, no problem. Even better, my ex-husband always complimented me when I got a messy haircut. He really liked my hair messy. While my husband now occasionally asks me if I plan to comb my hair, it doesn't bother me a bit because my hair and I have come to an agreement-- I can cut it all off whenever I want, it will grow back quickly and with a vengeance, and that way one of us always has a chance to be satisfied with the situation. Now, back to the catty observation. It has not escaped my notice that while the new Mrs. is undoubtedly better suited than I ever was to being a small town celebrity's wife, her hair will never be messy. I was the one who left, so I'm not getting in a dig at the enemy, I'm just plain being catty. Catty observation over.
  • Bare feet. Don't like to wear shoes. Never have, never really will. Oh, I've learned to wear my old tennis shoes while torching, seeing as how a glob of molten glass landing on even calloused feet would hurt. I've learned to slather vaseline and moisturizer over my tootsies and then put on socks, seeing as how these tootsies need all the help they can get. But what happens? I grab a pair of sandals and end up traipsing through grass and mud. I forego the sandals and gingerly walk across the gravel driveway. I endure the socks and shoes for about an hour and then strip them off so quickly they appear to be a blur of cotton and rubber headed for the bottom of the closet.
  • Oh, and for those of you who know the movie "Top Gun," Kelly McGillis is the epitome of girly-girl with strong personality in that movie, and I wanted to be her when I finally grew up. Ha! Got the sunglasses, got the leather jacket, and **insert drumroll** I looked like Tom Cruise. Oh, well.

Shoot, you know I could go on and on, but the truth there will always be a new episode to report. Heck, even while writing about all the reasons I can't be a girly-girl, I'm sitting here secretly wishing I could flip a switch and turn on the girly-girl charm before I leave the house. Yeah, that would be great. . . but it probably ain't gonna happen.

Besides, did you read that warning on the nail polish bottle in the picture above?? Avoid heat? Avoid flame? Seriously? Ain't gonna happen.

Ta Ta For Now from Ang, who is happily getting ready to throw on a t-shirt, jeans, and sandals and head to town to run errands. The heading to town part is not my fav, but I am sure happily at home in the t-shirt, jeans, and sandals. . .even if I don't wear them with Kelly McGillis style ; )


Deb said...

Love it Ang! I'm not a girly girl either - but have been known to have long painted nails (always said it was my one concession to femininity)....& might confess to owning around 20 something bottles of nail polish - which I'm sure I can find good use for in an art project, now that I have finally learned that flicking some piece of foreign matter that appears to be stuck to a bed just out of the flame will melt real nails.....& it stinks! LOL!

rosebud101 said...

Now, I'd like to be a girly-girl, but I haven't succeeded. Since I retired, I live in what I wore yesterday, as long as it doesn't smell. The need to do laundry has sure gone down since then. My makeup routine is down to about 2 minutes. I do refuse to go out without makeup. I scared myself looking in the mirror once. As my daughter was growing up I thought, "I have a true girly-girl!" Then I noticed that she was also wearing her jeans and red t-shirt most of the time. She told me, "Face it, Mom, you didn't get a girly girl!" Oh, well, I was hopeful!

Cindy Gimbrone said...


Are we related? Were we sisters in another life? I'm married to an accountant, never wear shoes and my manicure is biting them to an acceptable length! My hair has to be shoulder length in order to be passable - I have big waves and "cowlicks" (does anyone besides me call them that?)that have a mind of their own.

Hmmm, maybe we need a spiritual paternity test? I think we're related!


Tasha said...

Ang, love today's post. I try to be a girly girl sometimes, but it never really works for me. I wear girly clothes to work sometimes, but as soon I get home I am changing into my old wornout pair of khaki cargo capris and a tshirt (usually splattered with paint).

Now, about your hair. You got the good hair genes in our family. At least yours doesn't look like a brillo pad on rainy days like today. (No kidding, it does!)

One other thing.....I know from personal experience that nail polish is flamable even after it's dry on your nails.....not a pleasant experience.

Sue H-K said...

Ang....we must be soul sisters! I have never paid more than 15 bucks for a haircut, never had a "real" manicure and also had an unfortunate orange highlight experience! I totally get ya girlfriend! Now, I've got to go take off these stupid sneakers and socks and find my beloved flip flops!

Lori Peterson said...

I thought I WAS a girly-girl until I read your post! Now I am thinking I might be stretching the definition a little. LOL!

ellen said...

I'm a tom-boy to the bone. Never had long nails and since I'm a Sign Language interpreter, I can't have them painted anyway. I do, however, keep my toenails painted.
I whistle like a big boy, no fingers in the mouth, that's for sissies.
I've always had short hair which is pure white now. I'd have it much shorter but I've promised my husband to stay away from the militant lesbian look. No offense to militant lesbians.
I have one semi-dressy dress that I bought locally for about $17 that I wear to everything although I haven't worn it anywhere this summer so far.
No bare feet. My mother's words are still free in my mind: "men spit on the ground!!!" Besides, as you age (hate to tell you this; it broke my heart when someone told me) the fat pads on the bottom of your feet disappear which makes walking barefoot painful. So does, unsuccessful surgery.
It's nice to know who you are, isn't it.

angelinabeadalina said...

You all are a hoot! Maybe we need to start an "I'm Not a Girly-Girl" club, lol!

Ellen, I think your white hair is perfect for you (this based just on your LE avatar pic and your fun personality)! Oh, man, now I'm gonna be hearing your mother's words whenever I go barefoot somewhere besides my own yard (not that these two boys don't spit, just that I'm sort of immune to their grossness).

Lori, just think, whenever you do feel like being a girly-girl, you can call upon your cosmetologist daughter to do the manicuring and pedicuring, etc. . . now that sounds like a nice perk for a mom!

Break out the flip-flops, Soul Sister Sue! Have you tried Crocs flip flops?? I'm not crazy about the shoes, but my mom just gave me a pair of the flip-flops and my tootsies love them! OMG, isn't orange hair the worst when you don't want to be strawberry brown?

Tasha, I know those khaki capris! And I know your curly hair bugs you, but I was looking at it again the other day when we were torching and envying you-- such pretty curls, baby cousin! P.S. Don't forget to take a rubber band or barrette out there to the torch :)

Yep, Cowlick Cindy, methinks there might be some shared spiritual DNA! (and maybe a bit of a cowlick kinda problem-- one whole side of my hair flips under, the other side always flips out, and never the twain shall meet.) P.S. If the dairy farm is still in the family, I'd suggest making an exception and wearing shoes anytime you walk around the barn or pasture, lol

Mallory, sorry you didn't get the girly-girl...see, Katie would like to be one sometimes, but I have no idea how to help her out. Lots of pink t-shirts to go with the jeans and shorts is my best effort to help her cause :)

Deb, I'd have to have 20 different flesh toned colors if I did paint my fingernails more than once every year or two-- I'm so messy that half the polish ends up around my fingernails instead of on them!

Anonymous said...

Avoid heat and flames???!!! Madness I tell you, complete and utter madness!!!! Angelina I really enjoyed this post. I enjoy the way you write.


angelinabeadalina said...

Thank you, Otter. I happen to enjoy the way you write, also :)

Ramblings of a lunatic mom and lampworker said...

Oh I needed this. Did you know I rank top of Oprah's 'Slumpadink' list. LOL