You might want to sit down before I tell you this next thing.
I got ready today.
Something came over me; I don't know what. Maybe it was out of love for my husband; I felt he deserved a reminder about the babe he married. Maybe it was out of my sense of duty; I knew that band practice was at my house, and it would probably be good if it looked like I cared about myself. And still maybe, it was out of nostalgia; it had been three hundred and sixty-four days since the last time I was this thorough, so I figured it was just plain time.
But whatever the reason, my shower, curled hair, and makeup-ed face took me forty-five minutes, which time was more excruciating than the fifty-nine minute workout I did this morning. (Not lying about that.)
Have you ever experienced something where you can't help but think about the people who do it every single day? That was me today. The mind reels that there are really some women out there who spend hours on themselves--daily. This floors me. What would that be like?
My husband didn't say a thing about how I looked. He just liked it when I bent over to pick something up. No change there. No matter how dressed up I get, it will always be his second favorite look on me.
When I came out of my room, my oldest daughter looked at me like I had committed the ultimate betrayal. "Where are you going?" she demanded.
My son came to talk to me, and I smiled warmly at him. His facial expression belied no feeling of shock. He asked me his question and moved on. How could he totally miss my bright pink shirt, stylish leggings, and well-coifed hair?
My baby looked at me like I was a stranger. When I saw my reflection, I saw that same look in someone else's painted eyes.
When I went to the super market to buy a chicken, I heard some heckling from behind the counter. I was sure it wasn't for me; I continued comparing expiration dates on whole-chicken carcasses. The chatter continued, and I finally looked up. My friends were working the butcher block today, and they noticed the change. "I haven't seen you in a while. You look good." She was complimentary, and shocked. It was shocking, I know. She was right about that.
Here's what my experiment today taught me. Even though there may have been some astounded countenances, the respect and love I was given was the same as every other day. I am beyond grateful for the people who love me the way I am--sweaty, showered, dirty, clean, tired, rested, joyful, sad, brooding, exuberant, off-key, or operatic. Nothing feels better than to be loved for who I truly am-- except to love someone for who he truly is.
At the end of my day, I showered again, washed the gel out of my hair, scrubbed the makeup off my face, slipped into my husband's T-shirt, and crawled into my familiar bed. It was good to be my exhausted, clean, content self again.
And now that I have three hundred sixty-four days until I have to run that marathon again, I'm gonna go work on my personality and character. I know for myself that though you can tame wild locks and moisturize thirsty, wrinkled skin, no matter how you dress it up, an ugly heart is always ugly.
And a beautiful soul is always beautiful, and there's no masking that.
