Ablutions

There was a time, not too long ago, when I was "going out" quite often. It was a busy, fun time and I always enjoyed the process of getting myself ready. Of course, if I was rushed or particularly nervous over WHO I was going out with, it wasn't a wholly pleasant experience. But I still liked the idea of washing up, of attempting to look my best, of presenting my best self.

As I began preparations this afternoon, I lamented the lack of occasions I've had lately which would warrant going to the trouble of leg-shaving and hair-curling. I suppose a lot of people believe it's too much effort, especially the effort expected of women. But I honestly take pleasure in getting ready for, well, what amounts to a date.

I suppose after a couple of drinks, I won't be too concerned about the color of my eyeliner or the smoothness of my legs, but I care about it now. It feels good to go through these painstaking efforts, because it makes ME feel good. I'm at my most confidant with some mascara on my curled lashes and an inch or two boost under my feet. I should try to make the effort a lot more often, just for myself. Even when there isn't a boy waiting. But I'm excited there'll be one waiting tonight.