Photo or No Photo

Oh that Mackin Ink. Nothing slips by her! Thank you for commenting on my picture.

I put it up. I took it down. I put it up. I took it down. Then I put it up and left it. Because that picture? That is not me. That is to say, that is me on my 16th wedding anniversary, but that is not the me you'd ever see.

Most days, I wear a ballcap. Because I can't fit my flat-on-whatever-side-I-slept-on hair in a ponytail.

If I'm lucky, my face is washed. That is if I wasn't too busy looking at my RSS feeds or the Today show or the Wall Street or the just whatever.

Most days, my face is not washed. This necessitates sunglasses. Inevitably I will run in somewhere or run into someone, and I'll remove said sunglasses. Forgetting entirely that my face is not washed. Which means I probably have leftover mascara under at least one eye. When speaking with people, I usually see something behind their eyes and wonder what they were thinking. Until I pass a mirror. Then I have to debate what kind of person wouldn't point out that there is mascara smudged on my face. What I witnessed on their face was the inevitable internal debate on whether or not they should comment. Surely at some point they think to themselves, "Doesn't the woman have any pride?" And then I'm glad that the mascara was never mentioned.

I do wear lip gloss. But that is more about chapped lips than anything else.

If I'm in my house, I'm in a robe. Hopefully if you came to the door I'd be in my new blue robe. But on a cold day, you'd find me in a leopard print robe. That's right. Leopard. No, not in a sexy leopard print robe. But in a Huge-Heffner-wouldn't-be-caught-dead-in-anything-so-tacky leopard print robe. It was a gift. The gift giver would like to remain anonymous. (Right, SP?)

If I've left my house, I'm in workout clothes. And if you see me from the back, you're probably thinking, "Wow. Booty." But not in a good way. And if you see me from the front, you're probably thinking, "Wow. Belly." Is that thought ever in a good way?

Since I'm in sweats, pearls are out of the question. Mind you, I'm of the opinion pearls go with anything. But this opinion is not shared by all. So I refrain from accessorizing my sweats. And it takes no real restraint at all.

About 2 in the afternoon I generally come to the conclusion that good hygiene dictates that I should shower. And after 2? Why put on makeup? Or fuss with my hair?

So I put up a picture. But don't look for that lady. She doesn't exist.