Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Your personal grooming habits...keep them personal

We all know at least one person who is guilty of this heinous crime.  The chick on Facebook, Twitter, social media site of choice who insists on regaling us with her every fucking move.  She either believes that we are truly interested or is, perhaps, attempting to make the rest of jealous.  Here it is in a nutshell...I couldn't give a ripe fuck what you do or how often.  I'm thrilled that you choose to tame your eyebrows by having them regularly waxed at the very expensive salon that you credit each and every time you walk through their front door. Nobody likes a hairy chick, and unibrow is so offensive I cannot even look at one without gagging, so thank you.  But seriously, every time a hair is yanked unceremoniously from your Don King-esque brow, I do not need to be made aware.
Is it just the brows? Oh no, it's everything.  Bully for you getting your hair cut and colored every two weeks like clockwork.  Fan-fucking-tastic.  My heart just skips a beat even thinking about it.  Some of us haven't the time, energy, or disposable cash flow to keep up with you.  You know that.  Quite the aware little puppy, aren't you?  That's why you do it. Look at me, my hair is perfection, not a strand out of place, not a root showing or gray hair to be found.  Congratulations on prioritizing your appearance over all else and sending that fabulous message to young girls everywhere.  Because jealousy, competition, and anorexia aren't already problematic enough...thanks for helping us along that path to depression or worse.
Somehow, she actually believes I have a deep-seated need to know each time she has her nails done. The mani/pedi is a wonderful thing and I do partake as often as I can. While she goes every two weeks, and I know this based on her faithful chronicling of each visit, complete with photos, I do not.  I go when I can, and when I can justify the expense. You just never know the exact day nor the color I choose.  Why?  Because I don't think you give a flying fuck.  I'm right.  You don't and I don't.  But that's right, it's not just that she went, it's the fancy overpriced salon where she checked in using Foursquare! When I DO actually get my nails done, I go to the same Vietnamese woman in Pleasant Hill almost every time. Good service doesn't require water with cucumbers floating in it and piped in New Age music.  I don't need a robe to have polish put on my nails.  Lily is nice enough to make egg rolls once in a while and gives a killer hand and leg massage...all in her little hole-in-the-wall joint.
Thank God she's all dressed up again!  My jeans and concert t-shirt were just begging for someone to overshadow them by dressing for the prom at 40 years old...again...for no apparent reason.  Even more fortunate, she's nicely had someone snap a photo to be shared on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and possibly even to be sky-written over my house. I don't know what I would do if I couldn't fully admire her from yet another angle. The bitch may just be THAT considerate.
Holy shit, she just had a drink at yet another snazzy bar!  Lucky me, I know all about it.  I even saw the close up shot of it in case I wanted to drink vicariously THROUGH her. How thoughtful!  Spending money hand over fist can be a barrel of laughs.  But in the current economy, is it wise?  Does she care?  Hell no!  How else can she rub her amazing life in your face and mine?  Going to the clearance rack at Old Navy and nabbing those jeans you've been eyeing for a month at the low, low price of $8.90 isn't her idea of a bang-up time.  It's something I celebrate wholeheartedly...but I'm a cheapo...forgive the digression.
Ladies, don't be that chick.  We are too evolved to truly believe that we are in competition with each other for the attention of cavemen. The world is overpopulated enough, we aren't battling to breed.  Take it down a notch, or two, or five. Nobody wants to know every time you apply lipstick or take a shit.  No, really, I swear we don't.  There's something to be said for an air of mystery once in a while. If we are close friends, I may know this stuff already, so you certainly don't need to broadcast it publicly to everyone else.  You are only asking for it the next time you ask if you should go blonde or redhead, complete with accompanying photos...asking for me to shout, type, and possibly rent a billboard begging to know, "Are you friggin kidding me right now???"

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