WARNING: Slightly exhausted narcissism ahead
This week I've decided, without really deciding, that I suddenly care about my looks, after not really caring for a while. I must have glimpsed my self in a mirror and got a shock. Actually, no, it's two things. Three things. One: saw photos of myself and hated them. Two: F told me: 'no offence, but the bottom of your hair really doesn't match the top of your hair. It needs to be darker.' Three: I put on outfits in the morning - winter clothes, for the first time in ages - and The Husband looks at me askance, like I'm all wrong.
When your child is commenting on your regrowth, it must be pretty bad. Even if it IS a typically blunt Asperger's child.
So, I got a garbage bag and filled it to the brim with clothes from my cupboards and drawers. Including a lot of long-sleeved tops that I wear underneath things that have shrunken with countless washes and need singlets underneath them to protect my torso from the elements.
Shopping. One flattering cardigan (to replace about four unflattering ones I ditched) and a long-sleeved black top that fits.
Hairdresser. Chopped off about half the length and asked for a colour that would spawn minimal regrowth. One shade darker than my natural colour (which I haven't seen in, oh, 15 odd years). Almost black.
Reactions? F thinks I need to grow my hair back and that it's TOO dark now. And that my new cardigan looks 'weird'.
The Husband approves of both.
F's father looked at me, paused, then said 'you look very gothic'. To which I sarcastically responded 'I don't think I can take any more compliments today' and walked off. Very teenage behaviour I know, but this week I feel like a teenager.
I feel like maybe I look like I made an effort with my appearance at some point over the past year. But I did prefer not thinking about my appearance too much and plan to return to that happy state soon, which is usually broken only when I see my younger (twin) sisters (a few times a year), which always makes me think I should lose weight. They are very slender, with concave stomachs, and look vaguely like me - which is what makes the comparison so disconcerting. Ah well. They haven't had a child. And they have seven years on me.
Last night, dressing to go out, I walked through the lounge room and The Husband said 'F, look at your mum'. F looked at me and smirked, then started laughing.
'What?' I said and he shook his head. 'No, what?'
'It's just that your bum looks REALLY big in that dress.'
I turned around and returned to the bedroom. I could hear The Husband saying 'F, NEVER do that, really,' in awed tones. 'You should never say that to a woman.'
'They don't like it.'
It was an hour later that his dad made the gothic comment.
Luckily, this week, I don't need to go further than school or the local cafe to buy my chicken pie and latte. That should give me time to get used to not caring again ...