Now, let's talk about this for a minute. The obvious error here is that I was wearing OU paraphernalia, but we are not here to talk about sports. I want you to notice that I am wearing navy slacks. Navy slacks, folks. Drink it in. Next we will look at the turtleneck. There was a point in my high school career that my friend, Bardot, actually told me to stop wearing turtlenecks. I think I wore them 3-4 days a week. But the glory in this ensemble is that I chose to tuck in my turtleneck. Into my navy slacks. And topped it all off with a brown and silver belt. The clincher here is that I was probably the ripe old age of 16. Now. Take another look. Me. 16.
I feel as though I could rest my case there, but I will go ahead and give a few more examples. Until my senior year of college, I always pushed my hair behind my ears. No matter how long or short, I pushed it behind my ears. I just thought that was what I was meant to do. My eyebrows were huge until close to the start of college, and I had every color of flip flop, because I wore them basically every day. The only positive thing about this situation was that it really didn't bother me.
Once I started doing pageants (shocker, I know), and after everyone that knew me picked themselves up off the floor, my pageant directors started telling me that perhaps, just perhaps, I should use at least one hair product and maybe not push my hair behind my ears. Maybe, just maybe, I could learn to wear heels. Maybe I could even get a pedicure - I had never had one until then. Basically I was the "before" on The Devil Wears Prada.
I would be a fake if I said that now I'm a fashion guru (clearly can't name one). I still have the tendency to carry the same purse for...two years and counting. I wear an "outfit" and my sweet but honest friends tell me to never wear it again, and I am always trying to figure out if an outfit works. I spent months last year (here) trying to figure out why my hair was a big grease ball. This is why I buy clothes straight off of mannequins. Its like I didn't get that part of my DNA.
Then we have my sister. She was a born fashionista. She came out of the womb wearing the latest styles, a coach purse in hand, and makeup straight off the Mac counter. While my sister was growing up and doing makeovers with her friends, I was reading books. And writing. I do have some awesome handwriting.
So, as always, whenever I see my sister, she usually looks really cute and trendy with some outfit she has pulled off with perfect makeup. This scenario played out recently over Christmas. She had this eyeshadow that had just a touch of glitter that was a really pretty dark brown/gold and some of the glitter was on her cheeks. Very glamorous.
And I thought, well, if she can wear it, I can. So for Christmas, with a gift card, I got the exact eyeshadow. It's called "Midnight Cowboy Rides Again" by Urban Decay. I think the most I have ever spent on eyeshadow is $3.99 for a set of three colors, but this stuff was $17.00. So this was a really big deal. Here it is:
So I went and got this fancy eyeshadow and was so excited to try it out. The next morning, I put that new glitter eyeshadow on. And I looked at it. And it didn't look like it looked on my sister. It was much lighter. Well, I figured she must have had on more than one layer. So I put on a second. And then a third. And then a fourth. And I was so confused. It wasn't the same dark brown that it was on her. But I knew it was the same eyeshadow. Dumbfounded, I finished getting ready and left for work.
Driving to work in my '98 Accord, I was looking in the rear-view mirror at my face. In the sun. I swear I thought I was staring at the angel Gabriel himself. It was ridiculous. There was glitter all. over. my. face. You see, it didn't just stay on my eyelids, since I had felt the need to put on 100 layers, it fell off and landed all over my cheeks, and all over my entire face. Have you ever tried to get glitter off your face? Well I have. And let me tell you, it's not possible. And you might almost wreck your car. I decided to wait until i got to work to deal with the situation.
Thankfully I beat my boss to work and went to the bathroom to try to remove the glitter. I brought a kleenex and it just didn't cut it. Glitter wasn't going anywhere. So, I then resorted to getting a couple of small band-aids. Yes. I used band-aids to remove the glitter. Except the band-aids weren't big enough. I filled up the entire surface area of the sticky part with glitter, and there was still glitter all over my face.
And then my boss arrived but he wanted me to come OUTSIDE in the SUNSHINE to help him carry in some stuff. Here goes nothing. I walked outside in the sun to grab his stuff and what did he say? He said, "Oh, you have on glitter make-up today!" Glitter make-up. Yes, my My Little Pony and I thought we would match so I threw glitter all over my face. It's like when someone gets a really bad haircut and someone just says, "Oh, you cut your hair!" See how sly that is? No compliment. Just a statement to say something so that their jaw doesn't remain hanging in mid-air.
I responded that I had some issues with some eye shadow and he tried to tell me it looked great. Come on, now. People need to stand up and tell me when I look ridiculous. Perhaps if people had started doing that earlier, I wouldn't have worn that denim Winne-the-Pooh shirt with Doc Martin boots and tights in high school. Someone has to stop the madness.
So what did I realize? Well, I realized that apparently my sister put some dark brown eyeshadow on under the one light layer of glitter make-up. What a novel idea.
Lord, help me.