Getting Glamorous

Two hours!!! That’s the time it used to take me to get dressed and ready to leave the house from my teens until about age 30. Classes, work, getting on the CTA (Chicago Transit Authority), shopping. Who knows who you could run into? If I was going out club-hopping and dancing? Forget it. I was lucky if I had myself glamorized in this same generous time allotment for a night out. Mind you, that being the dancer I was back in my days, the 2 hours I put into getting ready lasted about 15 minutes into dancing and sweating. Hey, at least I made my grand entrance.

All this effort given on a daily basis was sacred time. I had no desire or patience for any interruptions. Ahh! The good ol’ days when I had both the time and energy for all the fashion and fuss.

So what did these two hours or so consist of? Oh my!!!

Mood music was essential whether it was used to help awaken me from my slumber for a day of classes or work or to prepare me for a night of socializing and dancing until the wee hours of the morning. In any case, the music was always upbeat and energetic in order to get me going. Yep, I had a serious routine and soon it became one of second nature.

First up was the essential, but not necessarily always most time consuming step: the shower. Armed with my razor and powerfully scented body wash, removal of any and all unwanted hair was done with care and precision so as not to knick the skin which I planned on exposing plenty of. Hair washing was done depending on how much volume and style my mane might still be holding onto from the previous day’s battle with the hair. Who am I to mess with an occasional, fortunate, good-looking coif of bed-head? If I was lucky enough to experience this phenomenon, extra care was taken not to wet the hair by placing a shower cap over the hair and dodging the showerhead just in case water made its way underneath the aforementioned cap.

Wrapped in a bath towel both on my body and possibly my hair (if washed) worn swammy mommy style, came the first layer of deodorant, along with lotion and matching scented perfume for double the fragrance strength. If my choice of fragrance made available such a product and if my personal supply allowed, matching body wash was used in the shower for an even more powerful and no doubt overwhelming scent.

Next up was the application of make-up, which for me included: foundation, eye shadow, eyeliner, lip liner, lipstick and of course my favorite - mascara. Eyelash curling and mascara application, however, was always saved for last in order to let the eyeliner and shadow set first.

Then came the grueling work of selecting the appropriate fashion for the environment, but not necessarily the weather. Cute and comfy for work and usually just the opposite for a night out. I have surely never been one to boast, but luckily, I have mostly been blessed with a small, slender figure. This, despite all the chocolate and other sweets consumed over my lifetime. Exercise wasn’t a big must in my teens and early twenties, but wait, don’t hate! It didn’t last forever. Damn it! Nowadays, I too pay my dues at the gym and maintain a pretty healthy diet. HOWEVER, back then I was a NATURALLY skinny bitch and proud of it! Of course, I used this enormously to my advantage when shopping for my wardrobe. In hindsight, I bought some of the most outrageous fashions at the most inexpensive, but beloved teen retail shops. After all, I wouldn’t be caught dead in the same outfit twice, so why pay a lot? Faced with my array of choices from my latest shopping trip to one or more of my many, finely selected shops, I tried on each outfit and critiqued my look from every angle in the mirror, making sure I didn’t go out flaunting any unflattering views. Yes, I was thin, but far from perfect.

After selecting just the right couture and setting it aside for later came the most challenging part of all – styling the hair!!! I have long, fine, stick straight hair. It’s not like I could just throw in a little product, tossle, shake it around, flip my head upside down a few times and wallah! That did nothing. Not a damn thing! It was still a stick straight, flat mop on my head. My trusty curling iron was always plugged in and set to the highest setting ahead of time so as to be hot and ready for the hair-styling mission. Grabbing the recommended 2”of hair at a time, I curled each piece of hair just long enough for it to set my layered hair in place, but not quite long enough to make me look like a dark version of Shirley Temple. In order to attempt to freeze that style into place came the application of the heavy duty, maximum hold hairspray applied all over and underneath every strand I could get. Friends and family came in very handy for this part of the routine.

My personal favorite step came next - the eyelashes. Besides the hair on my head, these are the only other hairs I’m grateful to have in abundance and length. Holding my eyelash curler firmly, but gently, I pressed long and hard enough on each set of lashes so that I had a permanent surprised look on my face for the rest of the day. Not surprisingly, I often went overboard with the eyelash curler as I did with the mascara. So, in order to separate the clumping from the layers of black mascara I applied, I went through each eyelash and separated them with a large and long safety pin. Dangerous? Uhhhhhhmmmmmmm, ya think? (Please don't try this at home.)

Finally, came the last 30 minutes or so of the routine. This included the ever so gentle and careful application of the chosen couture. This took precision so as not to get any make-up or the so-called, advertised clear deodorant on my attire. A final application of lipstick and another generous layer of perfume on clothing, skin and hair followed. The final and last step of the routine was the almighty heels. Never did these things get put on until exit time as these would become my nightmare by the end of any work day and especially by the end of any night out dancing. Well, that, along with the uninvited men who decide for themselves that it’s okay to just start dancing behind you and/or with your circle of girlfriends.

Nowadays??? Well………..Let’s just say I’m past 30, I work full-time, I’m a freelance writer and I’m in my fourth semester of graduate school. Two hours of dressing have shrunk to 20 minutes to shower, apply just enough make-up so as not to scare anyone, throw on whatever is clean and not overly-wrinkled and apply some hair product to the flyaways of my mane so as not to resemble alfalfa. No wardrobe selection, no curling iron required. I’m a wash and go girl. My how things have changed! These days, I forget which way I am supposed to hold the curling iron, what eyeshadow it is that I usually wear when I do actually wear it and what lipsticks and lipliners I decided mix just right for my skin tone. I always tell myself I should write these things down for the next time I am in this situation. Then I decide I don’t have time to do so, and when the occasion arises to practice the old routine, I wanna kick myself for not having written it down. However, even when I don’t guess at the right shades, colors, combos, and hairstyling techniques, I find that I might actually still manage a look or two from the male species. Then again, who am I kidding? Maybe I had a couple buttons accidentally come undone?