I’ve felt like my frumpiness factor has been high the last few days. It’s a culmination of a handful of disparate events – all culminating in my feeling old and frumpy:
1. I’ve met a boy. We haven’t gone out, but I’m definitely interested – very interested. And I want him to be interested, too. He’s cute and stylish – and I am feeling neither these days.
2. Our holiday party at the restaurant was on Sunday night. I was engulfed by nubile, perky 20-something servers with flowing bleached hair, party-bright satin dresses hemmed two inches past their crotch and sparkly three inch high heels. (I was wearing my spattered chef’s whites and a sweaty headband to keep my hair out of the food).
3. On the same night, I was called “matronly” and a “MILF” by my fellow kitchen compatriots.
4. My hairdresser called my current grown-out haircut “mom looking”. Needless to say, I have an appointment at Sassoon on Thursday.
5. Tonight is my work holiday party – we need to dress warmly and stylishly. This morning, I spent 20 minutes staring at a pile of bulky, conservative, work-appropriate sweaters – and realizing there wasn’t one stylish one in the bunch.
To combat these feelings, I painted my fingernails bright red. Of course, the fact that my knuckles are scraped raw from an unfortunate carrot and mandoline accident doesn’t help matters any. Ugh!
MILF is okay, but matronly is bad. Having a “mom looking” anything is bad … unless cookies are involved.
I hope the party was fun. (I know I’m about 5 days past current topics on this one)