Retouching last night’s make-up this morning and wondering whether that counts as getting ready or simply carrying on.
Becoming my own facilities department. Hair appointment, dental appointment, mani-pedi, blood test.
Started taking supplements. Magnesium, vitamin D, things for bone health, things for gut health. Not to mention all the hormone replacements I need to remain civil.
Still buying clothes for a woman who goes somewhere other than the sofa. I admire my optimism.
Why did I hate that photo at the time? Trying to remember this when someone takes one now. Apparently, I just need ten years to appreciate it.
Love seeing the lady neighbours, but deciding what cocktails we want eleven weeks from Thursday is already yucking my yum.
Dear friend leaving a voice note beginning with “quick question” and taking you through three generations of family history. FFS.
Talking to another dear friend who thinks she has mummy issues because she’s still mourning Dolly Parton. What a legend. A sex symbol? Wholesome? Both? Was she allowed to be both?
Perhaps that’s part of why we loved her. All those things in one woman, without feeling obliged to explain herself.
Just voted. Please, please, please, please. We need to be spared.
Too Much Makeup, Too Much Hair
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