Rule #192- Leave Your Vanity in the Parking Lot

I am learning so many things as a new mom. One of the primary truths I have learned lately is that showering, applying make-up, doing my hair, and changing out of my pj's daily is a privilege, not a right . . . at least that is what I'd been telling myself until a recent trip to Kroger.

On this particular day Evie Jane had a rough morning, in which she followed none of her normal patterns. There had not been a nap of any kind and she was in a "I'm only happy if you hold me" mood. Unfortunately, we were down to less than bare bones in our pantry and frig, and a trip to the grocery could not be put off. I remember glancing in the mirror before we left and noting the lack of make-up and the need to at least redo the pony tail leftover from last night's sleep. But somehow those observations were lost in the morning activities and I arrived at the store in pretty much the same condition as when I woke up that morning. I did manage to change my pajamas for an outfit I thought I could pass off as "I've just been to the gym, otherwise I would look perfect" look.

After my shopping was complete, I exited the store with a massive amount of bags and a very tired (a.k.a. screaming) daughter. As I unloaded child and bags into the car I noticed a very attractive lady staring at me. She had actually stopped in the middle of driving lane to watch me. I glanced at her tentatively, thinking that maybe we had worked together when I taught at the community college last year. She took a step forward and said hello. I squinted for a better look and said hello back, now certain that I didn't know her. She began to pull a card from her purse and approached me more closely, "Here honey," she said with that overly drawn out sweetness that feels patronizing, "Let me give you my card." I looked down to see Mary Kay Consultant in cheerful pink letters. "Oh, thanks" I mumbled as my cheeks flamed. I could tell she was picturing huge before and after photos and accepting an award for most cosmetics sold to one person. "Have you ever tried our products?" she smiled politely and I could see her mentally adding "or any make-up from any store." I laughed self-consciously and stammered, "Yes, I know it doesn't look like it today, but I have used Mary Kay before." Again, she smiled as sweetly as she could. "Well, I just think all new mothers could use a little extra pampering, don't you?" I smiled back, thinking that it was nice of her to say "extra" as though she thought I took at least basic care of my appearance. I took the card and promised to give her a call before dashing to the humiliation-free interior of my car.

As I drove home I had to glance at myself in the mirror and laugh. If I had been that Mary Kay sales lady, I would have done the same thing.