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« UNVEILING THE MAY QUEEN | Main | Out of the Past »

March 22, 2006

Getting Ready

Michelle Richmond here. If you've spent any time in the South, you know what I mean when I say "getting ready." I'm referring to the mandatory two-hour period a girl is expected to spend in the company of blow dryers, curling irons, magnifying mirrors, and eyelash curlers before she dares set foot out of the house on Church Day. I grew up in Alabama, where any work you've put into grooming is pretty much null and void within ten minutes of venturing outdoors, but that doesn't mean you're exempt. It may be 98 degrees Farenheit with humidity off the charts, but the Pantyhose Rule still applies (i.e., if your calves are showing, you need pantyhose, preferably control top, ideally in taupe or suntan).

When Nicki Richesin asked me to write an essay for The May Queen: Women on Life, Love, Work, and Pulling It All Together in Your Thirties, the first thing I asked myself was whether or not I had pulled it all together. I thought about the strips of string cheese stuffed behind the sofa cushions (courtesy of my baby boy, a born hoarder); the 10-gallon Rubbermaid boxes marked Important! Unpack Immediately! that have been sitting in my garage since we moved into this house almost two years ago; the fact that I have yet, at this late date, learned how to stuff a tomato or defrost a chicken. Following this rather painful self-examination, I considered telling Nicki I wasn't right for this book. 

But then I decided it didn't really matter if I'd pulled it together; the important thing was I no longer suffered the burden of getting ready. Why? Because I am 35, and I've finally got my way: the relationship, the career, the books, the baby. It happened. Not magically, not instantly, not without a great many false starts and bogus maneuvers on my part. I mean, it took time. But all that getting ready-- the waitressing jobs, the grimy apartments, the stint writing catalog copy for Little League protective cups, the endless dates with boys who thought Hooters and Red Lobster qualified as nice restaurants--finally paid off.

I live in San Francisco now, where getting ready to go out generally involves a party nap and a martini (or it did, anyway, before Oscar was born.) I can't remember the last time I saw a curling iron, and pantyhose that do not involve fishnet haven't touched my legs in years. I don't have to eat Pink Cloud if I don't want to (and believe me, I don't want to).

So, when did you stop getting ready? If you've hit your thirties, has it defied your expectations in any way?

Posted by MichelleRichmond at 06:26 AM |

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We lived in TX for about eight years while I was growing up and the whole beauty regimen thing was a really big deal there too. My mom even threw a Mary Kay party for me and my 13 year-old friends once. I remember her vanity table being a source of femininity to which I aspired. I certainly took every opportunity while she was at work to spritz her perfume on my wrists and behind my ears. The problem was, I never wanted to spend ANY time “getting ready” for anything. My sister thoroughly made use of her requisite two hours in front of the mirror, but I always wanted to read until the very last moment and then throw on some (okay a lot of) eyeshadow. (Back then I favored shades of electric blue or green that matched my “valley girl” via West Texas accent.) The result was that to this day I still have no clue about how to apply makeup. Oh well, I guess I’ve come to terms with it and it certainly no longer defines “womanhood” for me.

Posted by: kim | March 22, 2006 at 12:04 PM

Getting ready is a concept with which I'm quite familiar. A southern-bred girl, I feel as if I've spent my entire life trying to escape dumb Hee Haw jokes, but now I find I take southern comfort in my delicious memories. I cherish those slow as molasses Sundays sneaking donuts into our church's "ladies' lounge" and long suppers of fried everything, corn bread, and chicken dumplings. These memories came rushing back to me last Sunday as I was driving my daughter down the country roads that lead to her grandparents' home. Singing along to Elton John's "Your Song" and "Tiny Dancer" with my girl, I couldn't help feeling grateful, alive, and blissfully present. Michelle, thank you for your beautiful story and for sharing it with the rest of us. We're ready!

Posted by: Nicki | March 22, 2006 at 01:51 PM

When I started working from home. Don't get ready for work, why get ready for fun?

Posted by: Kevin Smokler | March 24, 2006 at 11:24 AM

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