I haven’t read a Glamour magazine in years, but they once had pictures on their last page showing women dressed in fashion DON’Ts.   The don’ts always had that lovely black bar across their eyes as if that would keep the people who knew these unfortunate fashion freaks from knowing who it was.

This morning I was a fashion don’t.  I thought about getting some construction paper and making myself a black bar but I didn’t have time for crafts.

I should have washed my hair last night, but I was tired so I said to myself “Self, you can do it in the morning.  Yes, self!  You’ll get up early and do it in the morning”.    Somewhere in my brain, a reality alarm went off but I didn’t want to hear it.

Of course, I woke up late this morning, and my first thought was “I hope the hair washing fairy came during the night”.    Yes, I do think like that.

A quick look in the mirror confirmed that the fairy had skipped my head again. Bitch.

I took a quick shower, dressed for work and sat down to put on my makeup.  A process that can realistically be compared to spackling a wall.

There is indeed a process, and order to follow when spackling my face.

Face serum, eye cream, tinted moisturizer, makeup base, blush and then the bronzer.   Yes, I know and I can hear you thinking “you do what?”.

This morning I absentmindedly brushed the base makeup on my face first ( Is that you gasping in horror?) and then grabbed the tinted moisturizer.  I was halfway through when I realized what I had done.

I wasn’t about to start over, so I just kept going.  My face now matched my dirty hair.

Finished with the bad spackle job I went to grab my shoes.

I have a lot of shoes. I love shoes.  When clothes don’t fit, you buy shoes. Right now I’m a little heavy and clothes are a touchy subject but I have shoes.

But, ( of course there is a but, this is me) I’ve had a foot problem for a week, and I can’t wear any of my cute boots with a heel.  I need to wear a flat shoe.   The flat shoes I own are either summer shoes or really (REALLY!) ugly.

So I grabbed some ugly, flat, shaped to fit Fred Flintstone feet boots.

For those of you not familiar with Fred Flintstone feet ( how old are you?), here is the Urban Dictionary definition.

The mirror revealed a complete mess.   Dirty hair, a splotchy spackle job, and Fred Flintstone booted feet.

A yabba-dabba-don’t.

I put on my sunglasses and went to work.   I did not have to peddle my car with my feet…but I could have.

I washed my hair tonight, put all my makeup in a nice orderly line for the morning and bad foot or not I am not wearing Fred Flinstone shoes tomorrow.

Hey, if I’m lucky the foot fairy will come during the night.

Unless  she is related to that hair fairy…

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