December 14th, 2011
My friend Christine was at my house last weekend. When she was done with our visit, she was having a friend, Tracy, pick her up. This friend apparently wanted to meet me, but I wasn't aware of this until he was in my driveway.
I had no makeup on. I hadn't done my hair, and I was wearing comfortable shorts and a shirt. It was a very... lived-in look. Most times, when I'm just cruising at my house, I don't dress up. Some women do, but I am not that woman.
The car pulled up and I gave her a hug goodbye in my foyer. "No, come outside," she said.
"Oh... can I say goodbye here?" I asked. I was trying to hide from new people.
"Can you meet Tracy?" she requested.
"Do I have to?" I winced.
"Come on. Real quick?" she implored.
I didn't want to make a fuss or be difficult, but who doesn't hate the mini-ambush? "But I look horrible," I complained.
My daughter and her friend, Kira, were playing the living room and heard me. "My mom looks horrible-er," she volunteered, as if that should make me feel better. It kind of did.
I laughed and went outside, met this guy, didn't die of makeupless shame.
I went inside and laughed at Kira again. "Horrible-er?" I shook my head.
Still unaware of the vast humor in that little interchange, Kira expanded on the definition. "Yeah, she didn't even change out of her pajamas, and her hair is up to here," as she held a hand about four inches above her head.
When it was time to deliver Kira back to her house, which is three homes up from ours, Claus suggested we go inside and tell Joann we were there to witness this morning-hair horribleness. I'm sure her mom Joann will love hearing how she was part of a comparison of whose mother was more terrible looking in the morning.
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