Workin’ It

There was a brief story on the Today Show yesterday about the “meteorologist dress” that went viral. Apparently a female meteorologist shared out a photo of a stylish and flattering dress that she had purchased at a great price. Soon as many as 50 other meteorologists posted images of themselves in various color versions of the exact same dress. I certainly couldn’t blame them, it was a nice dress, with complimentary style points and a bargain price tag. What I loved about the story is the very real need of real women to look great, but who struggle to find flattering outfits at affordable prices. Which basically rings true with all of us.

The story was presented by one of my favorite newscasters, Tamaron Hall. She appears to be the perfect blend of personality, intelligence, beauty and style… and she wears killer shoes and would look phenomenal in a paper bag. Certainly not your average “real woman.”   I’m quite certain she is not worried about finding a dress that will look good on her figure, nor is she concerned about finding something that costs $23 on Amazon.

However, it did make me think about all of our various levels of style needs, especially for our jobs. Those women we watch on TV are required to have extensive wardrobes and look amazing.   When I watched Tamaron standing there in her designer dress and her stiletto heels, I giggled at the thought of her showing up one day to work and going on air in sneakers, baggie sweats and no makeup. Never gonna happen.

As for the rest of us, our professional attire is as variable as our careers. Some of us must wear uniforms, some wear scrubs, some dress comfortably to care for children, others of us spend our days in corporate suits. Many of us work for companies that have embraced the “business casual” style.

I remember as a girl in my early teens, I looked forward to some day being able to article-0-04C4F8BA000005DC-733_468x569dress up for work. I was enamored with the “glamour” of a career in a professional environment. I remember seeing the movie “9 to 5” with Dolly Parton, and thinking that some day I’d be in a busy office environment in my high heels and fancy suits and dresses. (Clearly at the time I ignored the movie’s basic message of sexism in the workplace and focused only on the fashion.)

For many years I did don the corporate look, and in those days had the youth and figure to pull it off. I still recall one of my favorites, a raspberry double-breasted dress. (Yes, guys, we women remember some of our favorite outfits 20 years later. ) Of course, being a shoe-aholic, my mantra was always: the more awesome the heels, the better.

A funny thing has happened in recent years, however. I, like many of my female peers, have been more than happy to adopt the business casual look, sometimes with an added emphasis on “casual.”   The other day, one of my coworkers found herself low on clothes that were not in her dirty laundry pile, and she arrived to work in a skirt, and uncomfortably wedged into nylons.   This prompted a discussion among a couple of us. I for one don’t remember the last time I actually wore nylons. I go from summertime bare legs to wintertime tights, if and when I choose to wear a skirt or dress – which, in and of itself, has become an increasingly rare occasion. We started talking about the “old days” when we bought L’eggs nylons in those little plastic eggs, and how we all were pro’s at stopping runs with nail polish. Postscript: by noon, my co-worker’s nylons were in the trash.

Gone too for me now is any outfit that is uncomfortable to wear all day. I used to put up with confinement and pain in the name of fashion. Kind of like Tamaron in her sky-high heels and tight-waisted dresses. But no longer. If I put something on in the morning that feels at all constricting, I not only say “ugh, no way” and take it off, but I throw it in the donate pile. Life is too short to be worried about wardrobe malfunctions, the inability to take deep breaths, or the growth of blisters or rashes.

Don’t get me wrong, my goals have not declined to the point of looking like a schlub, or wanting to go to work in my pajamas and fuzzy slippers. (well, ok, maybe sometimes I have that fantasy.) After all, we women may like to be more casual, and we may want to be comfortable, but we still want to look good. We still have a professional and public appearance that requires a shower, makeup and no bed head.

At home, of course, all bets are off. That professional woman comes home and slides happily into yoga pants and pulls her hair into a sloppy pony tail (sorry, guys). But, never fear, we do still know how to clean up in time for special days and family gatherings….. just don’t expect the stepford wife look. As a matter of fact, for my Thanksgiving celebration, I’m thinking cozy flannel with stretchy pants. But I’ll put on some makeup.


Posted in beauty, clothing, Entertainment, family, Holidays, Professions, real style, real women, Style | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Winging It

wingI don’t travel by air often. Perhaps twice a  year at most. And I’m fine with that. I don’t particularly enjoy it. I’m not sure if anyone really does anymore, since pretty much any of the joy and fun has been sucked out of it. But it still beats having to drive for several days to reach a destination.

Today I boarded two planes, and set foot in three airports, to go visit my sister. Air travel can of course be challenging and frustrating – or, if you enjoy the art of people-watching like I do, it can be pretty darn entertaining. The airline industry makes up an interesting microcosm of very real people, a combination of travelers and those who are employed in the business of shipping those humans to various locations. From check-in counter associates to TSA agents to baggage handlers to ground crew to flight attendants and pilots, to the people who work in airport shops and services – they all have very specific responsibilities and roles, and rules to follow. For the most part, I’ve found that treating any of these folks with a friendly smile and respect makes the whole process a bit smoother and, well, more human. All of those workers are real people too, with bills to pay and families to care for. Just because they may wear a uniform and may have to instruct you to throw out the $4 bottled water you just purchased, doesn’t mean they are robots.

At my mid-way stop at the airport in DC, I had to go through a second security screening. As I went through the “hands up” machine, I was asked to pause on the other side so a female agent could pat me down – apparently something pinged in my scan. She asked me if I had anything in my pockets. Relieved to be speaking to a woman, I confessed quietly that yes, I had a couple of feminine products (panty liners) in my pockets. She smiled and apologetically said I would have to remove them and hold them in my hand while she checked me. Another female agent standing nearby said “sometimes I have those in my pockets too.”   Yup. Real Women.

I enjoy watching other travelers navigate the security gates and kill time in the waiting areas. There’s the mom who’s keeping her three-year-old daughter entertained while she’s navigating a stroller and tote bag at the same time…and I know for sure that she’s saying a silent prayer that the little girl maintains a good attitude on the plane. Then there’s the gentleman sitting across the way, next to his wife, both looking tired and not really talking. He’s wearing a belt-buckle the size of Texas, so I imagine they are heading home after an exhausting trip to visit the kids.  There were the two buddies who seemed fascinated by the items available in the gift shop, clearly new to the airport and travel environment.   There’s the group of high school kids being herded by a chaperone, oblivious to the fact that they’ve all stopped and clustered right in the way of other travelers to discuss where they need to go next. And, of course, there are the frequent flyer business travelers. They exhibit a weary expression on their faces that reflects not only a bit of disdain for the inexperienced vacationers, but a fogginess of wondering which city they are in.

On my first flight, I sat next to a man in a suit and we chatted briefly. I explained that I was off for a long weekend to visit my sister, and that I assumed, given his attire, that he was traveling for business. He told me that he was “commuting” this week between Connecticut and Washington. He had decided to fly home last night because he had run out of clean clothes, and rather than get laundry done in the hotel or buy a new shirt, he took a flight home. He was headed back to DC this morning, to spend a few more hours there, then fly on to Chicago.   I groaned internally, thinking “I’d rather have a root canal than have this guy’s schedule and job.”

Since I thankfully don’t fly weekly like that man, I always encounter something new in the process, or marvel at the changes that have taken place over the years – most of course, due to heightened security.  For example, I’m not sure I understand the reasoning behind checking a bag at one counter, then having to carry that same bag over to a separate area to be then taken by handlers. Sure, I understand they have to scan or check the bags, but couldn’t they still do that from the handy conveyor belt that used to run behind the counter?   I also found it interesting that one of the questions asked now is if I have E-cigarettes in my luggage. The avid anti-smoker that I am, I looked confused and said no…then later wondered what E-Cig smokers are supposed to do? Carry them on? Hide them in their underwear? Ship them ahead? I didn’t ask. (And yes, I will pay $25 so my bag can travel in the bottom of the plane because I can’t fit four days into a carry-on.)

Twice today, while in line at security, I had TSA Agents approach me to check my palms for chemicals. That was new. I wondered if I looked like someone who regularly handles scary elements with my bare hands, or if just happened to be the lucky number each time for random checks. Then, of course, I worried a bit about the amount of germs on those wands that were wiped across my palms. Glad I took my Airborne this morning.

I’m also glad that I bought some snacks in the airport shop, because apparently the free cookies or peanuts are a service of the past too – at least on some flights. If you want a little something to nosh now, you’ve gotta pay the attendant pushing the cart down the aisle and bumping your elbows because she’s only got a half inch of clearance. Maybe she can give you some free ice for your elbow while you enjoy your $3 bag of goldfish crackers.

As I settled into my cramped seat, prepared to swallow a couple of Aleve to help the back and leg aches I would get from sitting in a small space for several hours, I had a wave of sympathy for any person larger than I who also paid hundreds of dollars to be even more uncomfortably wedged.   Except for those lucky ducks in first class, who sit with a smug and cozy expression, legs stretched out, waiting for their dishes of warm cashews and adult beverages to be served.  Me, jealous?  You betcha.

Snuggled in to my 12” square space by the window, I had some time to write, read, and contemplate a few things. First, of course, was if I would need to somehow get past the other two people sitting next to me to use the tiny closet of a restroom in the back of the plane, or if I could continue to hold my needs until we landed. Second, because of the cost to check bags, it is somewhat amazing watching people try to fit larger and larger carry-on bags into smaller and smaller storage areas. Until the bags have to be removed by attendants and stored with checked bags. For free…Huh.   And lastly, I wondered if I could contort my body enough to reach the peanut butter crackers in my bag under the seat in front of me without laying my head in the lap of the seatmate next to me.

At the end of the day, I arrived safe and sound, although a bit tardy, and a lot sore and achey. And after all, reaching our destinations safely is the only truly important thing. Even if we no longer agree that “You’ll Love the Way We Fly” .


Posted in real women, travel, Vacation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Real and Extraordinary

I first posted this three years ago….in honor of this important day, I thought it appropriate to re-post. 

Today is one of those days when we are reminded to do something we should be doing every day.  Honoring and thanking past and current Veterans.  Veterans are very Real People who have decided to take an extraordinary career path by entering the military to serve our country and protect us all.

For the majority of us, imagining what it is like to go through military training and active service is just that — something we can only imagine.  It is a service that we hear about, legends and stories we learn, and news and images we see on TV. But it isn’t something that most of us truly experience.  And I know that at least for me, it can be hard to wrap my head around what our Veterans have seen, done, sacrificed and endured.

Especially humbling are those Veterans who gave their lives fighting for us and protecting us, and all of those who have been somehow injured in the line of Duty.  They all deserve our respect and gratitude.  Then there are all of the other Veterans who walk among us today, or are off right this very minute answering the call.

My Dad fought in the Korean War.  His stories he has told us over the years never cease to amaze me — nor do the stories I hear from other Veterans. They are truly awe-inspiring.  Today I am also thinking about the very Real Women who are somehow connected to the Military. I think about the women Dad left behind when he went to war. What was it like for my mom, his then fiance, to hope and pray he returned?  She was only able to speak to him once the whole time he was off fighting — when Dad was granted leave to Japan and spent hours in a hotel room just waiting to put a overseas phone call through.  Or his mother, who was collecting stubs of candles to box up and send to her son and the other troops so they’d have light to use at night on the front lines.

Sure, technology has changed, and the wives, girlfriends, mothers, and sisters of our troops today have a bit more opportunity to stay connected — but the anxiety and worry can’t possibly be any easier.

And today, of course, are the Real Woman who are serving in the military.  They have gone through unbelievable training, and have left family and loved ones, even their own children, behind to serve our country.  I like to think of myself as a strong women — but I can’t hold a candle to any of them.  I am in awe.

Today, as I go about my safe, peaceful, easy, happy civilian life, I will think about, honor, thank, and respect the Veterans in all of our lives who do what they do so I can have the life I lead.  They are Extraordinary Real People.



Posted in Chores, family, Helping others, Holidays, Pride, real women | Tagged , , , , , , | 36 Comments

The Bubble Looks Appealing

woman in a bubbleWe women try hard to make the right choices with our health. We want to be strong, healthy, energetic, and live good long lives so we can some day bounce our grandchildren on our knees and enjoy retirement.

So we don’t smoke. We limit our alcohol intake. We eat right. We exercise. We get regular check-ups with our doctors. We practice mind drills to stay sharp. We are doing our best to be our best, and when we are following these rules, we can walk with confidence into our futures – right?   Well, not so fast.

Virtually every day we are hearing new precautions that are published to encourage us do even better – but in reality, I think they are mostly confusing us, and just plain scaring the hell out of us.

Let’s start with the one that troubles me daily: That sitting is the new smoking. We’ve all known for a long time that we should avoid being couch potatoes and that laying around watching TV for hours will make us fat and lazy…. But thanks now to new scientific evidence, we have found out that sedentary behavior is the fourth-leading risk factor of death. Some articles say that no matter how much exercise we do, it won’t balance out the bad impact of sitting. Considering how many of us sit at desks or in front of computers all day at our jobs, this is downright terrifying. This especially does not bode well for us writers. Have you every tried to walk and type at the same time? Heck, as I sit and write this, I’m apparently doing cellular damage on a molecular level, and taking days off my life. Or at least 20 minutes.

It was suggested to me last week that we all should set an alarm at our desks to go off every 45 minutes to inspire us to get up and move. Umm, ok, but I’ve also heard that it takes more than 25 minutes on average to resume a task after being interrupted. So I may live longer and avoid physical damage, but it will now take me three hours longer each day to get my work done because I’m being interrupted and distracted?

And I can only imagine how welcome that alarm will be during day-long meetings. Pay no attention to that woman pacing around the perimeter of the conference room. She’s just trying to avoid cardiovascular disease, diabetes and muscular degeneration.

Speaking of preventing disease and illness, we real women have for years been taught to take our breast health very seriously.  We have embraced annual visits to our Ob/Gyn, we get our mammograms, we do self-checks… Well, guess what… just recently, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force has recommended major changes to breast cancer screening guidelines. They are suggesting that routine screening for average-risk women begin at age 50, not 40.  That we should get mammograms every two years, not annually, and that self-exams have little value.

Wait, WHUT?!   Now who do we believe?   Personally, this one is a no-brainer for me…. After my experience last year with breast cancer, I will forever encourage women to get checked early and often. I was 49 when I had the mammogram that found it. Plus the doctors had plenty of baseline mammo’s to compare. If I had waited until 50, who knows how worse it may have been.  Our bodies, our decisions.

Whew…. All this worrying is stressful. Time to relax with friends and have a BBQ.  Nope, sorry. That’s not a good idea either. Because according to the World Health Organization, bacon, sausage, hot dogs and other processed meats are now ranked alongside cigarettes and asbestos as known carcinogens. That’s right, those tasty treats are evil, and not just because of the grease and fat. And guess what, heating those meats make them even worse – it helps lead to the formation of a known cancer-causing agent. Alright, fine, then we’ll stick to fresh food and veggies. Well, that is as long as we know where the farm fresh food is coming from….. just ask the folks at Chipotle restaurants who are dealing with an E. Coli outbreak.

So what to do? I figure I’ve got two options:

I can go live my life in a bubble, constantly walking in place, consuming only filtered water and vegetables I’ve grown myself, and going to see my doctors sporadically.

OR, I can keep doing the best I can and try to stop worrying so much. Because if I’m lucky and get to live a full, happy life, and reach the age of 95, I’m guessing in my last days on this earth I’ll be thinking about the people I’ve known and the experiences I’ve had, rather than considering “geez, if I’d only gotten up every 45 minutes and not had bacon with my breakfast, I could have made it to 96.”






Posted in age, Food, Health, real women | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Danger or Kindness?

stranger-dangerIt’s a big scary world out there. Every day we hear about some atrocity that has happened at the hands of someone, or group of someones, who are evil. Shootings, hackings, abductions, scams… Thanks to frightening news, have all become skeptical, skittish and untrusting. We teach our kids to not talk to strangers, don’t get involved, don’t ever be alone, be aware of their surroundings, — basically don’t trust anyone they don’t know. And yet – we also tell them to be caring and charitable, be kind, and help those less fortunate. If I was a young person in today’s world, I’d be confused and ask “Well, which is it? What am I supposed to do?”

There was a great example of this paradox in a recent episode of Modern Family (one of my very favorite shows). The Dad, Phil, was approached by a man who he felt he should know, but didn’t recognize. The man greeted Phil warmly, and ended up asking Phil for taxi money to get home. Phil happily provided the man with cash. Phil’s son, Luke, told his dad that he was being naïve, and had just gotten scammed. Throughout the episode, Phil becomes more and more convinced that Luke is right, and they end up plotting revenge on this man. Of course, in true sitcom style, it is revealed that the man really did know them, and his request for help had been real.

As I laughed my way through the episode, I realized that our uncertainty in how to react in certain situations is very real. Especially as Real Women, we have to travel that fine line between being trusting and friendly, and putting ourselves in possible danger.

I fear the result is that we all end up putting blinders on, and plod through our days only interacting at very safe distances, and only with familiar faces. We become closed off, our invisible force fields up for protection. That is, until we have a moment when we realize there really are kind people still in the world.

Yesterday I was attempting to get my brother into a medical office building for an appointment. He is temporarily in a wheelchair, at least for lengthy distances. The entrance to the building did not have an automatic-open door, so there I was, a novice at wheelchair driving, trying to maneuver him through the doorway while holding open the door with my hip. I hit a threshold in the doorway, and could not get him up and over it. In my attempts to navigate this issue, I dropped the file folder of papers I had clutched under my arm, and sheets of paper started to blow all over the sidewalk. If I was on Modern Family, this would be funny. But this was real life, and it was stressful.   As I left my brother sitting halfway through the doorway, I scrambled to gather my papers. I heard a kind older woman’s voice approach and say “oh, honey, let me help you.” This woman I think had been going into the bank next door, but saw my situation and didn’t even pause before coming over to help. By the time she had helped me scoop everything up, there was now a traffic jam in the doorway, of a woman with her two young children, and a gentleman in a suit, all trying to come or go. Again without hesitation, the woman held the door while the man helped me quite literally get my brother over the hump.   Of course, those folks may have simply pitched in because we were blocking their way… but no matter the reason, rather than curse at me, or ignore me and not get involved, they took literally less than 60 seconds out of their day to help someone who was struggling: me.   I thanked them all profusely. I’m fairly certain that 5 minutes later, they had all forgotten the incident….but I’m still thinking about them, and their kindness, 24 hours later.

This has made me consider the other interactions we each have, or could possibly have, with strangers in our lives… and how good it can feel to make those interactions positive ones. Simple acts like holding a door for someone, smiling and thanking some one, sharing a laugh, or giving a compliment – all tiny little things that can make someone’s day, and our own, just a bit brighter.

Will I start walking down dark alleys late at night in search of a stranger to be kind to? No. Do I still get nervous sending my teen son into a situation on his own? Yes. Are their parts of the world I believe we should avoid visiting due to unrest and danger? Of course.   But I think our internal struggles between paranoia and skepticism, and faith and openness, need some balance.   Rather than hiding behind blinders and turning the other way, once in a while we should look up, and out, smile and extend a hand. And maybe, just maybe, trust a little bit more.

The Minister at my church often gives us a great send off, reminding us that: Life is short. We don’t have much time to gladden the hearts of others. So be swift to love and make haste to be kind.

Perhaps we can start to see parts of this world that aren’t so scary after all.



Posted in Health, Helping others, Kids, Pride, real women | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Craving Normalcy

emergency-signWe all experience moments when our normal, real lives are interrupted. When common, mundane, every day activities and tasks must be put on hold to divert our attention and energies elsewhere.

Due to a medical issue with a family member, I’ve been living through one of those phases for a couple of weeks. My comfortable every day routine has been replaced with worry, stress, adrenalin, family visits, and many, many trips to the hospital. Over time, as the issues seem to be leveling out a bit, and I’m not operating in full-on super woman mode, I have been realizing how much we all crave normalcy in times of crisis. Thankfully, at least for now, my brother appears to be stabilizing, and I can not believe how excited I am to spend time this weekend doing boring things like clean the house, grocery shop, and do yard work. Chores and activities that usually annoy me to the point of complaining, instead are bringing me joy. This is because while I’m doing them, I know for that moment in time, everything is ok, and I have a sense of the regular me – calmer, more able to sleep, more pleasant to be around.

Each of us, of course, has our own sense of “normal” — just as everyone’s moments of crisis can be different. For my brother, I know the normal he craves is to be well enough to get back to the comforts of home, away from the beeping and sterility of the hospital. For the awesome ICU Nurse we met, who one day was dealing with an irate patient who was yelling at her and throwing his food, I image she was craving peace and quiet with her family after a long 12-hour shift. For the woman I saw in the hospital lobby, using crutches because for whatever reason she had lost one leg, I can only imagine she craves being whole and able to walk regularly again.

Crises come in a variety of forms – of course the death of a loved one can put our everyday normal life on tilt for months, even years. The loss of a job can mean that regular activities must be put aside while all of our energies are focused on finding ways to pay the bills, putting food on the table and finding new employment. Certainly moving to a new home, or taking in an elderly parent, can toss our worlds into a jumble until we can find our new normal.

When our lives are topsy-turvy, finding comfort and ease of anxiety or pain can come in funny ways. Things like finding the time to sit in jammies on the sofa and watch tv, or digging in the dirt in the garden, taking the dog for a walk, washing a sink full of dishes, or even putting in a full, uninterrupted day at work – all can give us the sense of peace that we need. Activities we regularly take for granted become accomplishments we crave.

We are all familiar with the lessons that times of crisis teach us. That life is short, and we need to make the most of each day. To hold close and love those in our lives because any of us may need to leave all to soon. To be kind, and charitable.   This time around, I’ve learned a lesson I didn’t expect. That the little, sometimes irritating, every day normal life chores and activities are not to be assumed, dismissed and even complained about. They are to be embraced.

So tonight, when I head out to the grocery store, and tomorrow, when I am cleaning my bathrooms, I may just take a deep breath, pay attention to the little joys like finding blueberries on sale and seeing my floor sparkle, and I will pause and smile. And just be thankful for normalcy.



Posted in Chores, family, Health, Helping others, home, home chores, housework | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Entering the Clubhouse

nail-salonAs young girls, many of us would gather friends together to form special clubs or secret girls-only societies. We would share confidences and tell elaborate stories, write notes to each other, feel happily comfortable as our giggly selves, and develop clever mottos like “girls rule, boys drool.”

At some point of course we grew up and became attracted to some of those droolers, started families, finished our educations and got jobs, and while we maintain close friendships, those clandestine groups faded away. But not entirely. We still have our clubhouses where it is safe to gather with mutual respect and understanding, away from the regular grind. Our clubhouses now are called Salons.

Be it hair, nail, or massage, Salons provide us Real Women with a place to go where we can experience that certain female camaraderie, feel safe and cared for, step away from other roles and responsibilities, and if we want, be our giggly selves. For the most part, it is a girls-only environment. Sure, there are a few men who find a way to infiltrate our secret society. The Metro Males are comfortable with stopping by for special services, and we begrudgingly allow it. Other men are brought in with their spouse or partner to sit through a “couple’s” treatment, or because they’ve finally been worn down by their real woman saying “you’ve got to try it, you’d love it.” These men walk in the door and instantly know they don’t belong. Uncomfortable in their own skin, they try to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Even though we may smile politely at them, they know their existence in the clubhouse is being merely tolerated.   After all, how would they feel if we came in to their garage or Man Cave?

There are a wide variety of clubhouses – er, I mean Salons – to meet our needs. There are the nails-only salons with rows of sweet and capable nail techs who hail predominantly from countries like Korea or the Phillipines. The atmosphere is not fancy, but clean and efficient, like a high production nail care farm. In the opposite end of this spectrum lies a full-service Spa, offering every type of Professional Personal Beauty Care in a lovely and relaxing setting, with scents and sounds that sooth the senses. There is a hint of highbrow snob appeal, so we can really feel like we’ve escaped into an elite club.

The same range can be found in hair salons. From the budget family-friendly high-production rate hair dens to the trendy and funky boutiques, we can find our favorite niche. No matter the type, women enter through the doors and nod knowingly to each other. We have entered the clubhouse and have exchanged the virtual secret handshake. What happens in the salon stays in the salon. Unless, of course, it is shared with other potential secret society members. Word of mouth is our most powerful tool in building memberships.

Some club members are regulars, visiting the salon on a weekly basis, working specifically with one technician. They’ve gotten to know the clubhouse owners, and have their own favorite seat.   Others, like me, are more sporadic with visits. I go to the nail salon every two or three months, and hopefully hit a Spa once or twice a year. Some Real Women only visit the secret club for special occasions, nervous and shy but seeking the same escape as all of the others.

The regularity and importance of Professional Services for Body Maintenance seems to vary a bit by geography. In New England, for example, I think Salon visits for the most part fall into the category of “nice to have’s” vs. “need to have’s.” I know many R.W.’s, like me, who get their nails done on an irregular basis, and are likely to color their hair at home then get cuts when we’ve begun to look like Cousin It.   Yet in other areas of the country, R.W.’s would not be caught dead walking out of the house without having all body parts artfully preserved and hair perfectly coiffed.

We do all want to look our best, and our Salons help us achieve that. Yet the reason for their being far exceeds that basic need. Our clubhouses give us the excuse to just sit and relax for anywhere from 30 minutes to several hours. I have literally almost fallen asleep while getting my nails done or my hair styled. Truly, when else do I sit and do nothing? Even more importantly, for that brief break in time, we feel special and pampered. We feel safely surrounded by women who are all looking to feel the same way, and are in the good hands of pro’s to indulge us. Best of all, we walk back out the door looking just a bit better.

Last night, as I headed out of the nail salon into the rain to stop at the grocery store then head home, I walked past other women in various stages of their appointments. Some were chatting & laughing with each other, some were talking to their technician like old friends, some were just completely zoned out. We each glanced at each other with that knowing girl-society look of “yeah, I’ll be back.” I caught a glimpse of myself in their mirror before I left. I saw a tired woman with bags under her eyes, no makeup left on my face after a long day. But a piece of me was just a bit more relaxed.

And dang, my toes and fingers look awesome.


Posted in beauty, friends, Health, real style, real women, Style | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment