Waiting on a Woman.....

I know I’m what some would call an excessive person. I have excessive feelings and responses according to my children, I have excessive buying impulses my husband will say, and as some of my girlfriends will attest, I purchase certain items in excess, i.e.; tubes of lipstick of which I admittedly have every single shade from Amazing Apricot to Zesty Orange.

But I’ve never really considered myself as a high maintenance gal until the other day when I took one of those tests on Face Book. You know, one of those that works off a point system for all these things that you do, and depending on your score, it will surmise the level of your personal maintenance.

Now before any of you get all cranked up about me taking a test on Face Book and the whole world knowing my business – I think most of the free world knows a lot of things about me already. The test wasn’t intrusive and I didn’t share any “real” personal information with anyone. And while I’m all up in that subject of Face Book and Congress – I’ll just say this – Face Book was created as a social tool for people to get to know one another and to reconnect with those that they might have left behind. It was never intended, in my humble opinion, for many of the things it has become.

But back to my original point – I took this test and my grand – I was most undeniably in the high maintenance column once it was done.

Yes, I do joke about it a lot, but in all honesty, I do shave my legs every single day of my life; all the seasons of the year, all the time. I absolutely cannot stand for my legs to scrub on each other with that rough stubble that comes with a day or so of growth.

I also shower every day - twice. I know. It’s a thing. It just is. Leave it alone.

I put on make-up every day that I plan to make an entrance in public because I was not blessed with a face that wouldn’t scare all small children and some adults if I did not.

I do wash and “fix” my hair every day; and good gosh almighty, yes I do have it colored once a month as well. I’m not sure what this new craze is with “going gray” or “natural” but it’s just not for me – not anytime soon. My mother is 77 years old, born and raised in the state of Alabama, the home of sweet tea and the original steel magnolias of life; and I can assure you, her face will be “fixed”, her lips will be “on”, and her hair will be colored and fixed until her last days on this earth; I expect mine will be as well.

If just those few things threw me in the high maintenance category – well then – I guess that’s my lot in life. My thoughts are, if you’re sitting around waiting on a woman who still takes pride in herself, then it’s time well spent, and you ought to be mighty prideful as well.