As I commented over at Bea's, I have invoked my cloak of anonymity in the current round of truthiness. I never post pictures of myself, so why would I break with that to give you a glimpse of my morning persona?
But then HBM changed the rules a little and suggested that a picture was not strictly necessary. And despite my sporadic posting here of late, I haven't sworn off words. So let me give you a verbal glimpse at my physical self.
My morning self is not greatly different from my later-in-the-day self. I don't wear any makeup, haven't put on anything more than moisturizer and lip balm for more than fifteen years (no lipstick lesbian here!). The difference between pre- and post-shower cannot be all that significant, though maybe Trillian would say otherwise.
In one way, I prefer my morning look to when I've finally pulled myself together: no glasses. I am vain enough to care about the difference in my looks with and without glasses. But the alternates are not very practical for me. Contacts, without fail, give me a headache, and I'm not comfortable with the idea of laser eye surgery for myself. I try to take comfort in the fact that my eyes have actually improved over my past few appointments; while I'll never be able to drive without glasses, I can already spend longer on the computer and with my books without them.
While my hair is much the better for a wash and combing, it's not all that wild when I wake up--a bit flyaway and prone to static, but that's pretty much its state by the end of the day too. I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with my hair. As a child, I despised being a brunette, because it's so boring. But I've come to appreciate that my particular brown fits with the rest of my coloring; I also still have a wide range of natural highlights from blond (hides the gray that has started to pop up) to red to dark brown. I have a tendency to go back and forth between long and short--neither one is ever all that I dreamed it would be. Right now it is long with some layers past my shoulders (because that's how much it's grown out since my last cut). I end up, most days, piling it up on my head in a messy bun. Regardless of length, I avoid bangs at all costs since they inevitably flip into wings at the sides (great for that feathered hairstyle I had at 12, not so much for my current low-maintenance requirements) and I get sick of having them on my face.
I'm starting to realize that I need to change my routine to accommodate the fact that I'm getting older. My face and scalp have decided to get a little more sensitive and are not sure what to make of our change in climate. I haven't quite given in yet, but know I should probably give it some thought.
Now I'm off to slip into some flannel pjs, let down my top-knotted hair, and call it a night.