Maintaining

I used to be low maintenance. When I was growing up and we'd go to a restaurant, my sisters would want sodas or a milkshake. I would virtuously request water. Just water. I would feel a glow of self righteousness and consider I was probably my dad's favorite.

Because I was such an easy keeper.

So low maintenance.

I've never been one to collect a lot of shoes.

I have one purse.

I paid $50 for my wedding dress.

Low maintenance.

Somehow it's all slipping away from me though.

Adam brought me more benefit make-up. I love benefit make-up. I love the pretty packaging and the saucy names. I love sifting through all the pretty little pots and vials a little mystified and intimidated because how does one use "eye bright", "You Rebel" or "Dallas" to one's best advantage?

I do know I am infatuated by it all.

And slowing becoming high maintenance I fear. I may never shop in the make-up aisle at Albertson's again. I may decide I can't live without "sippin' n dippin'" creaseless cream shadow/liner and Covergirl just doesn't cut it anymore.

I may start wearing a scarf around my head as a rule.



I don't know.

But here's what happens in restaurants now. I order Diet Coke. With lime. And not too much ice. But enough. And a straw. And not a skinny straw. I like a good wide straw.

I am not proud.

But if I get too discouraged, I can always retreat to admire my benefit make-up.