Frumps Unite

Aaaahhh….a good pair of stretchy pants.  The freedom to lounge in cotton, luxuriate in flannel.  Better yet, go without a scrap of makeup and leave the product out of the hair.  Join me. I won’t tell. Yes, you may frighten the general public, but it just feels so good.  The glory of reveling in your frump.

I have a lot of makeup and I know how to use it.  My hair is baby fine, wisps of softness barely shielding my naked skull.  Because I need hair product I sleep with it sprayed and styled. The result? My head often looks like I’ve stuck my finger in an electric socket in the morning.  I am also intimately familiar with raccoon eye syndrome.  Going to sleep like a goddess I wake as a goblin.

It only takes half  an hour to shower and set things to rights.  But I really love the days when I shower and then spend the day frumping it up.  Why not? I have earned the right to be comfortable. I have spent years perfecting my social face, appearing respectably attired, fashionably coifed, perfumed and shining. Who cares if I take a day now and then to step out of the expected appearance…not my husband, who luckily loves my natural self.  Not my kids or family who have been repeatedly exposed to my unpolished face and comfy day wardrobe.  If you are in my intimate circle and have seen me thus, it is a true compliment. With you artifice is unnecessary.

I am a professional woman. I love my job. I love my home and family. I take pride in my appearance.  Sometimes that is who the world recognizes and sometimes it is my uber comfy naked-faced self who is lounging in a lazy boy and consuming Netflix wearing stretched out sweatpants and a T that has seen better days.  Frumpy for me is not a dirty word.  It is instead a haven where I luxuriate in the moment, simply being me.



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