I always have such high hopes for summer as I walk by little boutiques. Flirty little dresses and chic sandals--they beckon. Or perhaps something like this:That's me and my fashionable pretend friends, just out for a day of shopping, some lattes, and maybe a pedicure.
But after a few weeks of writing solo and the schleppery that is my life, I usually end up more along the lines of this:
Okay, well maybe not THAT bad, but it captures how I felt showing up for tennis camp pickup in my dirty running shorts just to meet my daughter's adorable Brazilian coach. And all his Brazilian friends. Oh yeah, hi. I'm frumpy. Nice to meet you.
I mean, I'm not going to dress up next time for them or anything. That's a little too Mrs. Robinson. But jeez. I need some maintenance work.
That's it. I'm calling for a haircut tomorrow.