guest writer - farris, listen to me, or at least look at me!

I spend a half hour in the shower every day. That’s a full thirty minutes. Every day. There is no timer on the counter, no regulation on how I long must take to get clean. I simply love the warm water running over my naked body, the heat of the steamy air, the fresh smell of shampoo and soap. I indulge myself.
Another half hour is spent putting on makeup, blow-drying my hair, brushing my teeth, and primping, in general. That’s usually about twenty to thirty minutes. Every day. I even do this on days I’m not going to work, to meet a friend for lunch, or, well, not going anywhere.
It’s been said that I’m vain. While I do humbly admit to being excessively prideful at times, the biggest reason for the lengthy getting ready process is that I move at the rate of a three-toed sloth while in the bathroom. It drives people crazy, but I just can’t change. Experiments have been conducted in honor of my friends and family to try and shorten the whole deal and consequently their waiting pains, like shaving at the speed of light and skipping eyeliner. But it doesn’t work. It always winds up being about an hour total. I like to think that I get it from my mother and living in the Midwest during my developmental years (well, you’ve never heard a southern accent at a quick pace, have you?).
But perhaps the main reason that I use up good daylight hours gazing into the mirror is just because I want to look best I can: I want to be beautiful. After all, your exterior is the first thing that people notice about you and there is nothing wrong with putting your best foot forward. Appearance tells us a lot about a person; the clothes they chose to wear, the way they fix their hair, the way they carry themselves. It’s an easy way to categorize people and, therefore, know what to expect from an interaction with them. We do this automatically. It’s oftentimes helpful. For example, have you ever seen a pizza deliverer wear a tuxedo? Or, a burlesque dancer in a t-shirt and baseball cap without lipstick? (Or, even more primal is our recognition of predators, but that’s another subject entirely). There are exceptions to this rule, but I will say that I have never seen any member of any of the local churches wearing a red, leather miniskirt, or even a black one.
There is, of course, more to appearance than giving others a heads up about your intentions. Human beauty and its implications is a complicated, and sometimes serious, matter: Studies have shown that pretty people earn higher salaries than their lesser looking counterparts and feminists have waged wars on the “objectification of women” (can’t they just let a girl enjoy a nice pair heels without a fuss?).
But let us put aside the assumption that those people don’t possibly deserve the raise or that some women may actually like being objectified. Let us focus on frivolity. As I said, I want to be beautiful. My bathroom habits probably aren’t widely practiced, but the desire to look good isn’t unique to me. Just about everyone would rather be pretty than ugly, if given the choice.
And it is natural to be drawn to beauty, whatever your definition of it may be. We seek out sexy people; our eye always lands on those things we desire.
However, it’s momentary. It doesn’t last. We see them, we want to get to know them and then they say something like, “Where’s Belgium located…South America?”
So, for all of my nose powdering, it really is just skin-deep. In the end, it’s a winning personality and interesting character that saves the day, not cute hair.
(Just between you and me-those “experiments” of mine to lessen my bathroom time were fake…I enjoy the quiet solitude and pampering too much to give it up. Maybe one day I’ll create a twelve-step program. Sign up in advance. Only fifty bucks a head.)