Tales of neverending woe from a messy closet
So, I was getting ready for a recent party, having a frantic fit. I COULD NOT find the outfit I wanted. After tearing out the entire contents of my closet, I realized that perhaps it was in my car, because I had let a friend borrow it at some point and things people give me back in bags tend to disappear there.
While tearing out the entire contents of my trunk, I came across something fun -- my journal from several years back. I cracked it open, and had to laugh.
I. Have. Not. Changed. I cannot get dressed in a calm fashion to save my soul. This is a major personality defect. See, I am manageably frazzled in daily life. But when it comes to clothes and beauty products, I lose my effing mind.
Below is an excerpt from the journal. It should make you all feel better about the state of your beautification procedure in the morning. Keep in mind that I went through a long phase of journaling in which I eschewed definite articles and occasional personal pronouns. For example, another entry reads: Think will write book on achieving feminist power through binge-eating, therein becoming rich, fat, old, empowered hag.
So now you have a warmup.
Nov. 5, 2003
Seems as though even when I wake up with plenty of time to look presentable, time suddenly disappears as though was prostitute in church service. Could be result of me reading in bathroom for 20 min. while I half-heartedly hold a curling iron in my hair, still wearing oversized pajama pants, printed socks and "Girl Wonder" tank top. Usually, will glance at clock to check progress, realize it is 8:45 and only have underside and 3 front strands of hair curled, throw hair into claw clip (would have eliminated 20 min. in first place) and begin the frantic search for clothes that are clean and mostly unwrinkled. When realize that only things clean and unwrinkled are skirts and haven't shaved legs in aprox. 13 and a half years, begin frantic search for opaque tights to cover yeti-like gams. Then, when attempting to apply makeup in 2 minutes and 30 seconds, realize that entire collection is scattered throughout 15 different purses. So I run frantically through the house trying to locatethe Indian Rose lipstick, the powder compact, and the black eyeliner (was in bookbag... WTF?)
Ah, memories. Does anyone know a good psychologist/organizer? Oh, and I never found my outfit for the party that night.
~ Deal Diva Stephanie