I picked up the razor in my shower today, white with a pink handle, doubled edged for smoothness maximus. It’s been neglected the poor thing as has been the shampoo and conditioner, the conditioner which has been on its last leg since March but has held on only due to Covid and the scarcity of showering it has created.
As I was shaving this morning and showering for the first time in I’m not exactly sure how long (which is how I feel at every shower since March) I thought about my writing group and that it meets at 4:00 on Tuesdays. Four O’clock on Tuesdays, and I’ve only attended in my pajama bottoms.
They may have noticed last Tuesday that I had makeup on. They may not have as it was a long time since I’d put it on, I’d had many client calls, and I was worn. They might have noticed my hair was a tinge less wiry and unruled. It actually was quite a bit less, but then again that is my hair’s natural personality. It does not submit, nor censure itself rain nor shine, clean nor dirty, shower or none, so maybe they didn’t.
I have a Covid rule of two. Two zooms that is, be they client, business meeting, mediation or writing group, but I need to have two on the schedule to warrant make up and a matting down of my hair (not necessarily a shower).
I work out after the day ends in COVID so who wants to shower before getting sweaty at the end of the day? But then it’s dinner and if I’m feeling proud, a glass of wine, and if I’m energized editing my book and if I’m lazy watching Million Dollar Listing and then it’s wrestling my son to bed, or pretending to be in my room asleep so my husband will do it, and so there really isn’t time for a shower then. I figure I’ll do it the next day, but then again, the next day I think to myself (and quite rightly so), I’m going to go on a bike ride at the end of the day, so why shower now? Unless of course I have three. Three calls and I shower (and get back into my pajama bottoms).
One of the benefits of my mane is that I could go without washing it for weeks on end and you’d not notice (not that I would, I mean, that’s gross. I might lose track of time, but as my son tells me “for heaven sakes, I’m not a pig!”). Though, he really kind of is, but not me. I’m just saying I could, and you wouldn’t know.
The other day my sister sent me an article about the Clarisonic face cleaner. This neat little machine that cleanses your face. It went out of business apparently after it was discovered that it’s not great to sterilize your skin quite so much. My sister was bereft. It should be known that my sister can wear a buttoned down under a very thin sweater and look impeccable. I do that and I look like I rolled up newspaper into balls and stuffed them under my shirt.
I emailed back confessing that my nifty device had been under my sink unused for years.
She emailed saying she was just about to buy me some new heads for it when she heard the solemn news about the closure.
“I would have been sad,” I responded, “if I ever washed my face at night.”
“Seriously?” She emailed.
“Correct,” I replied.
“I guess you’re ahead of the curve,” she said to my inbox.
“I guess I am,” I said to hers.
If there is any moral to this story, I believe it might be this: Just Be You. Whoever that is and however you show up, it’s enough.