So I had a little appearance meltdown awhile back. It was Sunday morning and I was stressing about my hair and my wrinkles and my clothes and shoes and being fat and ugly and all. Apparently since we no longer have small children to make Sunday mornings crazy, Satan sneaks in and attacks my personal appearance to distract me from the purpose of the day.
When we got to church and began worship rehearsal, everyone was annoying and late and the sound was messed up and the music minister was weird and various other things were just jerking my chain. Seriously, why do they want to be like that on Sunday morning???
So I skipped Sunday school and went to Walmart and spent a fortune on health and beauty products. New deodorant, eye shadow, eye cream that promises to reduce lines and wrinkles and multiple vitamins.
When I returned to church, everyone had cleaned up their act and quit annoying me. Which was good because how was everyone supposed to worship if I was wrinkled and ugly and wearing weird shoes, and if the sound was bad and the instruments (not me, of course) were not in tune? Thankfully even the music minister decided to quit being weird and annoying and when we went home together, it was as if he were a different person.
But wait. Maybe that different person was me!
And of course all that Sunday morning trauma and drama was cyclical cause if you're a girl you know what happened the next day. And all was right with the world. Till next month.
Just so you'll know, I've been using the eye cream for two weeks and haven't noticed any difference. I think the vitamins might help but who can tell? I am confident that the deodorant was a wise decision, though.
Why do we (read here, I) get so worked up about this stuff? Why are clothes and shoes fine one day and hideous and ill fitting the next? Some days I can look in the mirror and think, "Yeah, my husband (the music minister) got a pretty good deal! Then other days, I pity the man and avoid too much analyzing of the wifely appearance.
So we will see what next month brings. I'm not sure if I can afford more retail therapy though.
Many stories herein are subject to the faulty, and sometimes creative, memory of the blog owner and should not be taken as factual, although the names and events are real! Kind of.