The big RWA conference is in little over a month in NY. I can’t wait! It’s been almost ten years since I’ve gone to a conference. I’m already starting to get ready. Because seriously? I’ve got a lot of work to do. You see, I don’t get out much. I shall present my case below:
I need clothing. Writers who work full-time from home have no need for fancy clothes. We wear them ragged, if we wear them at all (pajamas all day, anyone?). You don’t even want to see my delicates. Elastic gets crumbly after a few ages. It’s not pretty. So I need to buy some big-girl clothes, something I can wear while talking to adults and actually look like I’m an adult, too. And shoes, dear lord, I don’t think I can get buy with flip-flops. I did pick up some pretty sparkly shoes the other day. Now to wear them around the house to break them in. The UPS guy should get a kick out of seeing me in my schlubby writer’s clothes and these fancy heels.
Makeup. I don’t wear it. But in order to, again, look like an adult, I must put on a little blush, at the very least. Since I don’t wear it, every time I want to wear it, I need to buy new stuff. Because the stuff in the medicine cabinet is over five years old. It’s a vicious cycle. Spend money on makeup, use it a few times, five year later, dump it (usually 95% full still), buy more. Rinse and repeat. Sigh…
Must buy deodorant. I don’t use it. I’m not keen on putting all those chemicals right there on that thin, sensitive skin, and so close to my lymph nodes. But alas, I do wish to smell fresh and lovely, so I will succumb to chemical torture for the sake of everyone else’s noses. 🙂 [Seriously though, if you stop slathering that stuff on, you’ll find you only need it about a week out of every month. We humans don’t generally smell too bad. I use witch hazel usually.]
A…comb. I know I own a comb. Just not sure where it is. I confess, I don’t own a curling iron or blow dryer. I just wash and go. Mornings I get up and give it a foof with my fingers, and I’m ready to rock. There are days I’m standing in line at the grocery store and I realize I haven’t combed my hair. It’s all good. Short hair rocks. But I’m adding ‘comb’ to my shopping list.
A tan. I put on a pair of shorts for the first time in over ten years the other day, and now I know why I should not be allowed to show my legs. They are the whitest legs in the North. I swear it. If I’m going to look like an adult in my new clothes and makeup and with combed hair, I’d better get some color in these poor legs. Does anyone wear nylons anymore?
I’ve got a lot of work to do before conference. Wish me luck. Oh! I also have a new release out now, ROGUE ANGEL: THE OTHER CROWD written under the Alex Archer pseudonym. I’ll give away a copy to one commenter who tells me what work they would have to do on themselves to fit in at a social event. Or have you got it all together already? 😉