SOMETIMES, A GIRL'S GOTTA CROP DUST

It’s Monday. I haven’t massaged my dry shampoo well enough this morning so my part has a vague white tinge to it. Speaking of, a few white pubic hairs that have lost their sense of direction are now sprouting out of my bangs and standing at full attention. My nails are cut (OK - picked) to the quick and I may or may not have recently tortured a hangnail to a bloody end. I have a scratch on my forehead from getting whacked in the face by a tree branch while mowing the grass and I’m sporting a blemish on my nose that refuses to obey the command of cover-up. Oh – and did I mention that I’m wearing man-socks with my clunky pant-shoes? At least they match today.

And, yup - there she is – perfect timing. One of the moms in my office that I try to avoid. She is perfectly-coiffed, has a full face of ‘natural’ makeup, a flawless manicure, and cute little kitten heels with barely-there pantyhose. Pantyhose. Every day. Before you scold me for judging her unfairly – she is also evil.

I brace myself as she twitters up to me while I’m trapped at the copy machine. She starts chatting with me about her weekend - all the while she’s incredibly busy breathing in all of my style faux pas. I’m a walking calamity in her world. Not only do I not have a husband, but I don’t actively try to, in her words, “hook myself a new one” with fake eyelashes and a push up bra. At the office.

When I tell you that you not a single hair is out of place on this woman, I am not exaggerating. I suspect that if a wiry white rogue tried to poke through her honey-blonde bob, she would stare it down until it disintegrated. She makes full eye contact with me for all of a hot second and then her eyes dart from the top of my head, down to my shoes, up to my hands, and then finally settle in on the bracelet that my daughter gave me. She is wearing Alex and Ani up to her elbow and I… I am wearing a Lokai (you’ve seen them – they look like colored bubbles – supposed to keep you hopeful and humble… yadda yadda yadda).

“Oh - how sweet,” she purrs. Did you forget that you were wearing that this morning?” I’m not gonna lie - my first reaction was to kick her in the baby-maker and run. My next plan was to tear her down and skewer her with my words. Then it came to me. I smiled sweetly and said, “Make it a great day. The machine’s all yours.”

I silently crop-dusted as I slowly walked out of the room. How’s that for a faux pas?