Currently on the second day of marinating in my own filth, I have finally summoned the will to get out of the chair and head up to the shower. How does someone get to such a point? Actually, this is amateur hour compared to the down in the trenches battle hardened resolve I had when my kids were really small. I think I hold the world record for consecutive days without bathing. Two weeks, if I remember correctly. I knew when my husbands eyes started to water every time he came close to me that I might be pushing the envelope. Those were the times when night blurred into day and you never had any idea what day of the week it was much less gave a crap about what you looked like. Survival, stolen minutes of sleep and the occasional glimpse of sunlight and gasp of fresh air. That’s all you needed to make it.
Now I have no excuse. The stretched out terry cloth yoga pants that call to me daily from the dirty hamper to put them on instead of the stiff ill-fitting jeans that go SO much better with the Old Navy sweater I just purchased are clearly trying to tell me something. At what point did warm comfort trump fashion sense, common decency and looking respectable in public?
This past week we spent countless hours watching marathon jags of TLC (the only network where the prerequisite for snagging your own show is the ability to use your uterus as a clown car) and every time I looked down I noticed that at least two of us were wrapped in a Snuggie. That’s right, we have three. Laugh if you will (and I know you will) but we were really warm and happy.
That’s why things like the Snuggie are a very dangerous slippery slope for people like me. First you are all cozied up on your couch with your similarly attired family and then you find yourself unable to leave the comfort and warmth of your spot and you start sending for help to bring the Doritos bag and glass of iced tea.
It’s not as if I’ve totally thrown in the towel. There WAS that expensive trip to the salon a few weeks ago to vanquish grey roots and snip dead ends and I am planning to get myself a few post holiday sale items this week.
So my New Year’s promise to myself is to man up and start wearing clothes that qualify as “non-vagrant” wear. I will make an effort to spare the public scorched retinas and scrunched noses by showering and using all those fancy products that sit in my bathroom. And finally I vow to never don the Snuggie before nine in the evening with the understanding that it is never to be worn outside the house. (Sorry mailman)