Obsessive
I have been actively seeking work for over three months now. It is discouraging, and occasionally I allow myself a day to sink into despair and make no attempts to look for a job, or a day to do volunteer work and amuse myself and make no attempts to look for a job. This week I left a rejection letter on the floor for two days so I could step on it a few times. Still, for the most part I keep on plugging.
As a person who likes to remain very active and busy, I have a minimalist beauty regimen. It involves cutting and filing my nails every week or so, shaving my legs from time to time, remembering to moisturize and floss, and other similar grooming activities that many women, swimmers, and bicyclists engage in. However, now that I am unemployed and full of angst, I feel completely licensed to obsess over any body part I choose. In making this choice, I have left my skin and hair to their usual haphazard maintenance and focused my nagging anxiety on my face.
My chin, neck, and upper lip have never been so clear of stray hairs; the blackheads on my nose have never been so small. My eyebrows are so perfectly sculpted that even other people comment on them, and not just people who saw them when they were bushy, either. They require touch-ups twice a week.
I realize that some people spend real time on their appearance and even hire professionals to perform facials and manicures and pedicures and waxes, but for me, plucking stray hairs from my eyebrows is a sure sign of obsession and angst. I need a job soon, before I start buying lip liner.
As a person who likes to remain very active and busy, I have a minimalist beauty regimen. It involves cutting and filing my nails every week or so, shaving my legs from time to time, remembering to moisturize and floss, and other similar grooming activities that many women, swimmers, and bicyclists engage in. However, now that I am unemployed and full of angst, I feel completely licensed to obsess over any body part I choose. In making this choice, I have left my skin and hair to their usual haphazard maintenance and focused my nagging anxiety on my face.
My chin, neck, and upper lip have never been so clear of stray hairs; the blackheads on my nose have never been so small. My eyebrows are so perfectly sculpted that even other people comment on them, and not just people who saw them when they were bushy, either. They require touch-ups twice a week.
I realize that some people spend real time on their appearance and even hire professionals to perform facials and manicures and pedicures and waxes, but for me, plucking stray hairs from my eyebrows is a sure sign of obsession and angst. I need a job soon, before I start buying lip liner.
Labels: self
posted by Margo at 10:49 PM
2 Comments:
If you get tired of the facial obsessing, you could always develop a new nerosis, or even, superstition. Another good friend of mine spent much of the last year sans employement. During that time, she and everyone close to her experienced significant, terrible events: deaths and illnesses in families, personal crises, the list goes on.
She became convinced that her unemployment was the cause of said happenings, and made it her personal mission to be employed before election day, so that Kerry wouldn't lose. She made it in just under the wire, but somehow, the mojo didn't hold.
Somehow I prefer to believe that my unemployment will not rain a plague down on anybody else. Call me a giddy optimist!
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