THAT Girl’s Fuzzy Legs

I’m not too shabby of a girl.

I can make a nice appearance, and (I think) I have pretty good taste in clothes, fashion and things of the sort.

But I know for sure that I’m never going to be “that girl.”

You know the chica I am speaking of — that girl who just looks like she has her whole act together. Her hair is perfectly groomed, sleek and shiny; it even smells really good, but not too good.

Her nails are manicured and her jeans fit her ass like they do store mannequin’s — a little snug, but with just enough room below her butt cheeks to make those jeans look dang good.

“That girl” wears the perfect earrings, heeled-shoes with grace, a cinched coat that emphasizes her teeny waste, just enough makeup to give her a glow, and perfume that makes you want to run out and buy whatever scent she is wearing with hope in your heart that it will make you appear just as cool and collected.

I am not that girl.

I typically get ready in twenty minutes. If I am lucky, I slap on some tinted moisturizer and blush, and when I am feeling extra special, a bit of mascara. Of course if I get to wear mascara, it usually ends up running down my face because my allergies are so bad that my eyes tear every five seconds.

I often pull my hair in a ponytail or headband, wear flat shoes with dirty spots all over them and my favorite pair of jeans that fit my butt too tight because I had seconds of dinner the night before.

I forget to wear earrings, I am often called “cute” and I use excuses like, “Oh, I am not shaving my legs because I need a little extra coverage for winter” — even if it is the dead of summer.

I am THAT girl.

I have tried being the other girl. I have even seen that girl and made a declaration right there and then that I am going to try to be more like that.

But my efforts usually fall through the cracks within a 24-hour time period. And it’s not because I don’t care — I do! But it is just that something else seems more important. For example, I will choose an extra hour of writing over my clothes being ironed or I will give up pretty pink nails for spending time with my family.

But maybe that’s OK.

I am not saying that being that girl means giving up other important things, like time with friends or a solid career. Perhaps, they really do have all of that figured out, too.

But it just doesn’t work for me. I have not been quite able to figure out the best of both worlds.

So, I meet in the middle.

Some days I will take a bit of extra time to splurge and wear a bit of eyeshadow. But that also probably means my hair will go undone or my shoes will be less-than-perfectly polished.

It’s funny — sometimes I actually shower and do my hair before my fiance, Dan, gets home from work, and he will walk in and say, “Why are you looking so nice?”

Meanwhile, all I did was give myself a good rinse, and I am sitting there with no makeup, wearing a sweater and jeans.

If that is “looking so nice,” can you imagine how bad anything less is?

But it does make me feel good to know I actually tried to channel a bit of “that girl.” And really, when it comes right down to it, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Because I’ll take spotted shoes and a ponytail any day, if it means extra time to write down my thoughts or a few moments to read a book.

And “that girl”? Well, hopefully, writing about you will feel almost as good as being like you.

Because, girl, these hairy legs aren’t going anywhere.

Two of my favorite accessories: food and a hat!