I Enjoy Being A Girl

When I have a brand new hairdo
With my eyelashes all in curl,
I float as the clouds on air do,
I enjoy being a girl!

~~Rodgers& Hammerstein

I’ve always been a “girly-girl”. Even as a child, I’d wash my hands frequently while making mudpies and I insisted that my Sabbath dresses be bought at an exclusive child’s boutique and not the local department store.

But life has a funny way of changing our priorities.

I grew up, got married and had children of my own. Suddenly, the money I was spending on feminine indulgences, went to buy things like diapers, Onesies, and carseats.

I never complained. In fact, it wasn’t long before the girly-girl turned inward and I became quite content wearing mom jeans, stained t-shirts and tennies from K-Mart. I got my haircuts at “chop shops” and my cosmetics came from the dollar store.

It’s only been recently that attention has been called to my lack of fashion sense. Both of my now adult daughters felt it necessary to stage an intervention.

How sad is that???

Once I was forced to face the awful truth, I embraced change-and dollars…lots of them. (Insert horrified husband’s expression here.)

I’ve become obsessed it seems, with all the girly-girl accoutrements that I’d forgone for so long-as if I’m making up for lost time.

I get my hair cut at a rather Ritzy salon—and get highlights, too. My hair has never looked better.

I have “nails”, which require bi-weekly maintenance.

I can’t pass the Sephora store at the mall without going in…and coming out with a bag of goodies-and a credit card snapping with static.

I wear perfume-with a name that can be recognized.

My morning regimen, which used to take thirty minutes, now takes an hour and fifteen minutes. (I’ve timed it.)

I wear these really nifty jeans that fit well below my waistline and are a full two sizes smaller than my old mom-jeans.

I’ve developed a passion for jackets…you know, those little accessory things worn over tops and trousers?

I have a wardrobe of handbags.

I own more than one pair of shoes.

I wear pretty bras that fit properly. (You have no idea how much this one thrills me!)

My underwear is more flirty than practical.

I know all this sounds ridiculous to a lot of you reading this, but I’m really enjoying this stage of my life. I’m still relatively young.

Notice I said relatively. I’m no young chick, by any means, but I’ve still got a lot of life to live and this transformation from dud to diva has put a new spring in my step and a smile on my face.

I face the mirror each morning and I smile at myself as I smooth on the moisturizer.

Sometimes, all it takes is a little surface work to improve what’s underneath.