Ugly Days

I think every woman has those days when, no matter what you do, you just don't feel pretty. Okay, forget pretty. Me, some days, I feel like pretty is on a whole other planet, in a distant universe, through a time warp and in an alternate reality. All the magic of make-up, all the little tubes and pots and brushes, the hair tricks and accessorizing and slimming dark colors - ain't none of it gonna do a bit o' good.

I'm generally pretty okay with myself. I mean, I want to lose weight and I hate my hair ever since Josie was born and I rarely ever look decent in photos, but overall I'm not a hater. I don't lose any sleep over it or waste any time sitting around feeling bad about it. Who has time? And ultimately, what does it really matter? People don't come to your funeral because you were pretty. They come because you were kind, funny, smart, helpful, loving, generous - a million other things. Pretty? Not so much.

I digress.

The past few days, I have felt just... gross. My skin is an oil slick and I'm breaking out like a teenager. My hair is in this awkward phase of growing out from the massive loss it suffered after Josie was born and a subsequent overzealous haircut. I'm bloated. Can you guess what else is going on? Think lunar cycles. Think really hard. If you're a man, I hate you. Does that give it away?

Being a woman is hard. And I'm not even mentioning the things we do to NOT feel ugly - the waxing and plucking and starving and the 4 inch heels. Spanx? Just call it what it is - a girdle. Torture.

Today, I'm giving in. I'm wearing sweat pants. All day. Even in public. So there.