One of the things I love about being femme, and that I sometimes forget, is that, even though I don’t necessarily constantly (or ever) feel sexy and attractive, just my otherness is enough to appeal to the other half of my relationship.
Speaking of feeling sexy…
My job requires a certain level of dress, but the standard is significantly lower than what I am used to. Instead of beautiful heels and tailored slacks, I need to wear much sturdier, and in my mind, more casual, clothing. Dangly jewelry, especially earrings, is not permitted. This makes it really, really difficult for me to feel “dressed-up” enough to be going to work, or like I look “good” by my standards.
It also makes it difficult for me to feel pretty because I’m not “done” at the level that makes this particular high femme happy.
Then, there’s where we live. My geographic location has strange cultural ideals of beauty. We’re halfway between Texas Tammy Faye Baker and college grunge; it makes for a split personality when it comes to being well-dressed. I get sick to death of wearing boots and loafers and practical, closed-toe, closed-heel work shoes every single day. And then don’t let’s forget that it’s the beginning of baseball season, and all of my spare-shoe-time will be spent in tennis shoes.
This also makes it difficult for this particular high femme to adapt her style to the practical functions of everyday life.
To combat this appearance-based malaise, I’m looking for ways to doll myself up without a) adding stupid amounts of time to my get-ready routine, b) falling too badly to either end of the atrocious aforementioned local beauty standards scale, or c) breaking my checkbook. I’m a 20-minutes-out-the-door chick. I can’t stand layers of pancake or looking like I haven’t showered in a week. And I’m broke four days before payday, just like every other household in America.
The simplest approach is probably going to end up being to change my hair again. I’ve had my pixie back for about a year, and while I love, it, ohmygod I am so bored with my look. I may toy with the idea of wearing a different (read: any) lipstick. And it’s possible that I’ll go back to home mani/pedis. Maybe red on my mouth and nails will perk me up.
Because we’re heading into the dreaded days of February, kitties, and I am not looking forward to dragging that around for another year.