I think it’s the spring weather. (Yes, it is spring here.) I’ve been in a mood that I can only think of as entirely frivolous. I added half-a-dozen new blogs to my reader, and they’re about things like perfume, and makeup, and fashion. Safari reports that I’ve visited the Sephora website more than anything else this week.
Now I’m not ideologically opposed to those things. I mean, even before this new ultra-girly me came out of the rabbit hole. I’ve never paid much attention to traditionally “girly” things, but it’s always been preference, rather than belief. If some other woman wants to wear eyeliner and four inch heels, that was fine and dandy, but it wasn’t something I was going to bother with.
Lately, I’ve been feeling very differently about it all. I suspect that the origins of this are in a really pragmatic place–at work, I have the attention of a large group of people for multiple hours. It makes me less self-conscious about that if I’m “pretty.” (Which is a mess that I will not enter into here, except to note that my male colleagues are quite capable of executing their professional duties in camouflage shorts.) In fact, and this makes old-me think that current-me is damned shallow, I’m finding the getting dressed and ready to go to work part is way more fun than the work itself. Current-me thinks this is a natural reaction to sitting around in jeans and old sweaters for a year. Old-me is skeptical.
I’ve been trying to bring a more mindful spirit to my life this year, which is why I’m writing about something so random here. Rather than chastising myself for being “shallow” and “assisting in my own objectification,” I’m going with something a little more generous. I still struggle with a handy label for that feeling, but I’m trusting myself. If my brain needs the world to be a prettier, more girly place, I’ll accept that for a while.