Wednesday, March 17, 2010
This is an actual photo of me. This is not a costume. This is really what I looked like that day.
Something has happened to my sense of vanity - it seems to have disappeared, and I'm not sure where it went. There was a time, not so long ago, when I would have been appalled at the thought of having my picture taken looking like this. Now I think it's kind of funny. (I especially like the hat, and think it adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the whole ensemble.)
How did this happen?
Take showers, for example. Having a shower used to be the first thing I would do when I got up in the morning. Now that would be a waste of time, since my mornings are usually spent in dirty, sweaty work. But that leads to scheduling issues. Suppose Kim and I have spent the morning wrestling a countertop and vanity out of a bathroom, destroying much of the drywall in the process, and then decide to go to the dump. Would I bother getting out of my dirty clothes and having a shower, just to go to the dump? Of course not. So we go to the dump, and get a little dirtier and sweatier hauling all the debris out of the truck. But that's no problem, because everyone at the dump looks dirty and sweaty.
Then it's lunch time and we decide to go to Tim's for a bowl of soup, but we're all covered in drywall dust. Do we go all the way home, have a shower and change, and then drive all the way back into town for lunch? Of course not. So we go to Tim's, as we are (and we don't stand out too much - Duncan is a blue collar town after all), and somehow I have found myself in public in a state I never imagined allowing myself to be seen in. Not only that, but when we pass the grocery store I remember we're out of cream and I actually go into the store to fetch it.
It's kind of liberating, in the same way as my decision a few years ago not to wear high heels anymore. Liberating in that it priorizes function over form. Inside over outside. Sense of self over the opinion of others. I'm pretty happy about that.
But I don't want you to think I don't have showers anymore. I do. Regularly. Really.