I find myself recently feeling genuinely resentful about having to do any sort of grooming. This is weird because I used to be very, very into grooming. When I was 16 I woke up at 0600 in order to shower, wash and dry hair and apply make-up before my 45 minute commute to school. Every day! And Saturday! It was a borderline Satanic ritual and honestly I am amazed at my energy to do such things.
My patience with this sort of caper died in my mid-twenties, when I realised I needed to make peace with my face as it was, au naturel, and not feel like I had to draw a new one on every morning. And then, later, I stopped washing my hair all the time because it was making it fall out. And now I have to be really careful about not collapsing into a soggy, gross North London mess with coarse hair and gnarly feet and e.g. a chipped tooth I can’t be bothered to sort out.
But grooming is such a bore! The wet, sunless weather recently hasn’t helped. My skin is grey and tired, I am constantly wrapped in layer and layers of technical fabric, I am too impatient to moisturise anything. I feel like I have earned the right to go about the place bare-faced and the world has to just suck it up. But, it is bad manners to look a mess. Accompanying my husband to smart restaurants taught me that: other diners have paid money out of taxed income to be there, showing up in a messy topknot and my second best jeans is plain rude.
The things that need urgent attention are: my hair and my feet. For my hair, which is looking very frizzy at the ends and sort of wiry at the top, I applied this conditioner to it for 3 minutes - which is a good product for MATURE hair, and we all know that MATURE is a euphemism for GOING GREY don’t we - and that is what it is good for. I also applied Keratase Oleo Relax to my damp hair, which I know is a brilliant product and I fell out of using it for some reason, I don’t know why. Anyway my hair is now flippy and glossy as a show pony.
My feet are a work in progress. I give them a swipe with a foot file when I can be arsed, which is about once a week, and then another once a week pay actual attention to them with nail clippers and a file rather than snipping at them angrily and jaggedly with kitchen scissors for 10 seconds while shouting at my children to brush their teeth.
I don’t really like those thick foot creams, I use good old Vaseline Intensive care - the pink one for hands and nails. I have also recently been using a very hydrating face oil (feet, face? Who cares!) on my feet, but any old oil will do: something like this if you really mean it, but also almond oil from a chemist is fine. A manicurist once told me that massaging the cuticles quite firmly and the nail bed is key for nail health. I do this and my nails and cuticles are pretty damn healthy, I must say (also puffy and tiny and ugly, so swings and roundabouts).
Where are you at the moment with grooming? Can you still be arsed? Please leave a comment in the handy box below.
I wore a midi skirt the other day, barelegged, to go out for meal - only shaved the bottom half of my lower leg. It's winter. This post reminds me of a silly poem I wrote some years ago for my work colleagues when we were having a v similar conversation:
Naming of the Parts
Toe, chipped nail varnish.
Beginnings of burst vein, peeping
from behind the knee.
Dry patch on elbow; cover with long sleeve.
Knocked knuckle, brave warrior,
injuries sustained in limescale removal operation.
Purple bruise on soft underside of arm:
origins unknown.
Tummy, caught unguarded on an exhale.
Breathe in, rib - not quite spare enough.
Solitary eyebrow hair makes a sudden appearance
once the tweezers have mysteriously disappeared.
Hollow gloom of the collar bone, carefully
co-ordinated with under the eye shadows.
Buy one, get one free; must invest in some Immac.
Freckles fading, along with the summer.
Frayed finger nail and a heel that says:
Must try harder. Don't even get me started
on the backside; far too much time
spent in the larder, instead of the gym.
Hopes for winter glamour recede, as today,
we have the naming of the parts.
I’m so lazy I did the least Sista thing ever and had Botox pumped into my face and it is literally transformational. And it cost less than the pile of retinol/serums etc that I had on my dressing table. I honestly look like I’ve slept when I haven’t. And I have a gel pedicure 3 times a year. And that’s it. I do feel like I’ve betrayed my ancestors by injecting shit into myself but I don’t regret it!