No Maintenance

I have a confession. 

Self-respecting fashionistas and readers who take any sort of pride in appearance, stop reading now, because this isn’t going to be pretty.

I haven’t had my hair cut in almost a year. This isn’t a religious choice. It’s certainly not a choice based on aesthetics or beauty. In fact, it could hardly be called a choice at all. Truth is I’m just lazy. 

Taking the time out of my schedule of writing, working, and spending time with my family to get a haircut just isn’t high on my priority list. And for me, haircuts aren’t just a quick trip to the salon. No, a salon visit can take hours. Hours to cut. Hours to color. Hours I could spend doing something useful like spot welding or fixing the drip in our bathroom faucet.

I’ve been blessed with thick hair. I know it’s a blessing, believe me, I know that. But it’s also a curse. Every stylist I’ve ever encountered has marveled at my thick locks, eyeing the brunette mess on top of my head with a combination of admiration and horror… probably because they know they are about to have to deal with it. And dealing with it takes hours, y’all. Hours out of my precious life. Hours I’ll never get back.

Low maintenance is putting it mildly with me. I’m practically no maintenance. I’ve always been the kind of woman who’d rather play in the dirt than play with makeup, who’d rather throw my hair in a ponytail than spend anytime styling it. I’m a tom boy, the furthest thing from a frilly, pretty female that you’ve encountered.

I don't tan. 

I only wear makeup 'cause I'm scary if I don't.

I don't bother with perfume or pretty-smelling lotions.

My fingernails are never painted. Nor are my lips.

And I like it that way. Mostly. But there comes a time in every tom boy's life that a little TLC is necessary. A time when your split ends have their own split ends. A time when your eye brows must part ways and become two once again. A time when your gray hairs must take cover for something a little more civilized and a little less Bride of Frankenstein. 

So, my friends, I have decided to visit the dreaded salon. For the sake of those who have to look at me, I will brave having to sit in that uncomfortable chair for hours. I will make awkward small talk with the stylist and valiantly pretend like I'm a real girl. 

And to my Mama, my sister, and all others who beg me to get my hair done every once in a blue moon: enjoy this while it lasts, 'cause it'll probably be another year before it happens again.


How about you? Are you high maintenance? Low maintenance? Or, like me, no maintenance? All tom boys, raise your hands! 

Of Fruit Roll-Ups and My Little Ponies and Not Growing Up

I’m not a grown up. 

I still love fruit roll-ups. I have one everyday at lunch. Sometimes, I have two. If they still made the ones with little cut-outs, I’d eat them by cut-out, smallest to largest…or least favorite shape to favorite shape. I eat a lot of things in such a precise, scientific order. Sweet Tarts? Green to Orange to Blue to Pink and Purple. Pink and purple are my favorite Sweet Tart colors, but despite that, those are not my favorite color colors. See, I’m not a really girly-girl kind of girl. Until it comes to My Little Ponies. 


Growing up, I was the kind of kid who played in the dirt more than with dolls. I wasn’t a big fan of Barbies unless it was for cutting off all their hair and switching up their heads and bodies. I was what you might call a tom boy, but like with any other label or stereotype, I didn’t quite fit in the round hole perfectly.

I was one of those rare little girls who fell in love with horses at an early age. I know. A little girl who loved horses? It’s pretty shocking. My Little Ponies were pretty much a given for me to adore. I watched the cartoons, played with the toys. When I see a My Little Pony at Wal-Mart now, I still have to stop and marvel over its pretty hair and colorfulness. Deep inside, I have a nearly overwhelming urge to buy one, rip it out of its package, and gallop it across my bedroom floor. I do manage to resist. Most of the time. I think they look so different now than they did when I was a child that I can fight the temptation. But…

I’m not a grown up.

When I go to antique or thrift stores and see the My Little Ponies from my childhood, the First Generation Ponies, I cave. I might even seek the suckers out. Of course, partially, this is from a Pony Renaissance that occurred late in my teens. During this Renaissance, I bought up a boocoodle of ponies and sold the suckers on eBay to adult collectors. You didn’t know there was an underground My Little Pony collecting movement? Oh, lemme tell you. 

Via
I probably want this t-shirt. Because it speaks the truth.

There are hundreds of collectors out there. Little girls like myself who grew up but still miss the whimsy and fun of a colorful toy pony with a colorful tail to brush. It’s true. And like collectors of pretty much anything else, these peeps are serious. I once sold a My Little Pony on eBay for over a hundred bucks. Yep, a single pony that I had paid like a dollar for from some unsuspecting thrift store owner. 

During this brief stint dealing ponies, I made over a thousand bucks, and anytime I see a “vintage” pony in a store now, all I want to do is buy it and play with it and then sell it for way too much money. It’s a sad reality, I know. But again…

I’m not a grown up.

I do things like watch Disney movies and sing all the songs at the top of my lungs.

I get ridiculously excited at the prospect of going to a fair and eating my weight in cotton candy, funnel cakes, and corn dogs and riding The Scrambler until I puke.

I buy a new stuffed animal on almost every vacation I make. Particularly if it’s a Disney vacation. And I may or may not sleep with those stuffed animals, along with my cats and my husband.

Speaking of Disney vacations, my husband and I try to go to Disney World every two years. We went there on our honeymoon. We don’t have kids, but we enjoy it just as much as a kid would.

I love visiting zoos. Take me to a zoo, and I’ll skip around like a kid. One of my favorite things to do in this world.
I eat things like potato chips and popcorn for lunch.

I still believe in things like magic and happily ever after. Fairy tales that come true. Villains who are eventually conquered.

Technically, I may be a grown up, but...

I’m really nothing but a big kid at heart. And I like it that way. So I’m gonna stick with eating a fruit roll-up at lunch everyday. To be honest, I think it may be keeping the old age at bay.


What makes you "not a grown up"?