My Vanity Fled with Age

I’m at the point in my life where I’m past vanity. I’m a married middle-aged woman who works full time, blogs, and writes. I have a full house that always needs work and people who always want my attention. I don’t make the time to look my best very often.

I spent way too much on my appearance every day when I was younger. I remember spending a good 45 minutes doing my makeup every day during my high school and college years. I agonized over my outfit for the next day every evening. I planned everything from my shoes to my jewelry. I even created my own color of lipstick by combining two lip colors on a palette because nothing else looked as good on me.

While I’ve become more efficient over the years, it’s the fact that I have ceased my quest for perfection that expedites my process of preparing for the day. Now I spend approximately 10 minutes on my hair and makeup combined. I choose my clothing for the day after I get out of the shower in the morning unless there’s a special occasion.

I wash and condition my hair, and then I brush it. That’s it. Sometimes I put it up with a clip. During my youth, I washed, deep conditioned, dried, curled, and sprayed my hair to perfection. Truthfully, my mane was luxurious back then, but keeping up with it was young woman’s game.

I don’t contour, blend, or layer my makeup anymore. I certainly don’t have time to make my own lip color these days. I slap on a layer of foundation, smooth one pass of eye shadow on each eyelid, and make one swipe on each eye with my mascara wand. I slather some lipstick across my mouth, and I’m done. Gone are the days of making sure all of the colors complement each other. I grab whatever shoes and jewelry seem like good choices and get on with my day.

I remember going to the grocery store with my mom when I was a small child. She usually commented about the ladies she saw who still had curlers in their hair. She couldn’t understand why anyone would go out in public in such a state. While I’m not that extreme, I do understand it. They were busy. They were beyond caring what other grocery shoppers thought of them. They had things to do, and looking good while buying bread and milk wasn’t a priority.

I went to the store over the weekend dressed in jeans, an old faded brown wolf shirt, a maroon hoodie, and pink Crocs flip flops. I was busy, and a trip to the store hadn’t been on my list of things to do when I got dressed that morning. I considered putting on some more sensible shoes since it was chilly outside, and then decided it wasn’t worth the effort. I slapped on some foundation, so my naturally pink face didn’t scare small children, but that’s it. I didn’t look terrible, but I certainly didn’t look nice.

An upside of getting older for me is realizing that I don’t need to look my best all the time. I’m messy, quirky, and often unorganized. I’m an artist who thrives on chaos. Why should I care if weekend shoppers think I look a mess or not? The world has bigger problems than whether or not my hair is frizzy. Thank you for reading Ozarks Maven! If you’ve enjoyed my little seeds of wisdom and joy, please subscribe to Ozarks Maven, Like Ozarks Maven on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter @OzarksMaven.

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