This is my last week of weight training with my friends Kathleen and Amy (Kathleen's the personal trainer/torture expert; Amy's the other willing participant in this quest for muscle mass). Kathleen was particularly demanding today, but in a nice way. At any rate, I left her house a little sweaty, probably a little smelly, and with a bad case of gym hair.
So I drove to the HEB on Blanco and 1604 because it's not my regular store and I figured I could shop anonymously. Wrong. I immediately ran into Diana Lowe, one of the pastors' wives from church. Five minutes later I'm at the deli counter waiting for my mesquite smoked turkey when I recognize the woman standing beside me. It's JoAnn MacPherson, one of my former students from when I taught high school journalism. She's married and a full-fledged grown-up, so now I feel sweaty, smelly, unattractive, and OLD. Still, it was fun to see her.
I go home and spend the next couple hours frantically cooking dinner for Kathleen, Amy, and my family. Making minestrone while wearing a white shirt was not a brilliant idea, so I got noticeably splattered with beef broth and tomatoes. Now I'm sweaty, smelly, unattractive, OLD and a slob, so what happens after school? I run into one of my impeccably groomed friends when I take the kids to Shipley's.
It's almost 7:30 at night and I still haven't showered. And really, what's the point now? Kevin's a little stuffy so he won't notice if I'm not too rosy, and I can sleep in my dirty clothes and save the clean jammies for another night. And bad hair at night? Who cares?
But I can guarantee that tomorrow I'll look (and smell) good and I won't run into anybody I know. Vanity's funny that way.