Is It Right To Lie In Order To Flatter?

I haven't been sleeping well at night, and Micah just gets up earlier and earlier every day. The sleep deprivation is building so that I eventually fall asleep with my head cradled in my salad at dinner.

I fell and wrenched my shoulder a few days ago and the constant ache has been draining physically, mentally and emotionally. I've been short and snappy with everyone, and hating it. Between the pain and the lack of sleep, I've reached the point where I just don't care.

My eyes look back from the mirror at me, and I think they should belong to someone on a drinking binge. My hair is flat and I don't have the energy or desire to style it. I am in desperate need of makeup to even look presentable for the family, and I'm just too tired to apply it.

This is bad, considering that I have to drop Luke off at day camp in town at 8:30 AM. I am grateful for oversized sunglasses (Paris Hilton, anyone?) that hide half my face.

The AC is broken in the van, so we drive with windows down in the heat of summer. This does nothing good in the hair department, not even on flat days. (Why does a hairdryer fluff, but windows flatten?) I wear a hat when I drive. A bucket hat. It's awesome. It hides all my hair and the entire top half of my head. Between the hat and sunglasses, one sees my mouth and the tip of my nose. If I apply lip gloss on the way to somewhere, I could pretend that I'm more together than I really am provided I don't have to take off the things I hide behind.

I have to pick up Luke at lunchtime. My dad stops over to deliver sweet corn. The new dog doesn't recognize him and barks constantly as we try to talk. I'm running late now. The phone rings and I can't find it, so I ignore the ringing while trying to talk to Dad and watching the clock slowly tick down, reminding me that I'm running later with every minute. Micah is determined to go home with Pappy and has put on his brother's shoes and grabbed a bag of dress-up clothes to carry along. Going with Pap is not an option, so as I see Dad to the door I'm restraining Micah with my sore arm. Becky runs out the door to go to a friend's house, and I leave Micah with Josh while I run in to town to pick Luke up.

I promised Luke that I'd bring the camera to take a picture of the chair they painted at camp to auction off later in the year. I forgot it, and feel like a heel. In the chaos of the day, I have a hard time remembering small things. Or big things, even.

I sign Luke out and talk to the staff as he comes in off the playground. She compliments me on my sunglasses and handbag, and says I always look so stylish and classy. She liked the scarf that I wore the other day as well. (The one that I wore to hide the stain on my t-shirt, because tossing on a scarf was a lot easier than finding another clean shirt that matched.)

Sometimes it's the small things that make your day. Who would have thought that I had style or class? I feel stuck in the land of chaos and confusion far too often to be in the upper eschelon of fashion.

Thank you, Day Camp Staffer, for completely making my day. If you were lying through your teeth because you felt the overwhelming need to have to say something about the way I show up there daily, I don't want to know about it.