It’s lunchtime and I’ve just remembered what day it is. Today I’m supposed to do lunch with one of my best friends – a half-posh-whole-trendy lunch spot with perhaps a glass of wine and a roll of sushi, lots of fun and fashionable people. I look down and take it all in:
- Cracked brown toe-nail polish (it was more of a taupe three weeks ago… no? Not good enough?),
- Clashing black patent flat sandals,
- New York & Co. gray slacks that would look great if they weren’t paired with…
- Red company polo shirt a shade faded and clashing more than the shoes with the cracked brown polish,
- No belt, and
- Heels that could grate cheese.
I don’t need to look up to remember that
- I have no makeup on,
- Eyebrows could use some painful tweezer time, and
- Curly mop hasn’t seen a blowdryer in months.
I’ve forgotten to Fight the Frump.
No, I’m not a Kardashian-following fashionista and have no desire to join the Plastic Pin-head Population. But there are miles and miles of good real estate between Bimbo and Hobo. And today I’m looking at a lunch that belongs on one side and looking like a bag lady that belongs on the other. (Isn’t it amazing how three perfectly good items of clothing can go so badly wrong together?)
It doesn’t feel good, does it ladies? Don’t pretend you don’t know – every one of us has done this.
Time for a kick up my own bum to get me out of the Raiments of Droll. Here is how I plan to do it.
- Go for a run after work and open the pores. Perhaps scare a few fat cells off at the same time.
- Do my own nails, rub my own heels, shave whatever needs disappearing and and buff back in some self-respect.
- Choose tonight, the night before tomorrow so I have no rushing excuses, something much more sassy from the professional side of the closet.
- Punish self by setting alarm 1/2 hour earlier to make time for makeup.
- Sexy underwear.
- The jewellry and perfume I usually save for special occasions.
Fighting like a champ.