This is worse than that time that I was mistaken for my brother.

(EDIT: I forget this every flipping year (obviously), but it’s National Delurking Day! Chime in and say hello and I’ll reply! You know, as long as you don’t agree TOO enthusiastically about the “I can totally look fugly” part of this post. Heh.)

I’m an interesting looking person.

I don’t really consider myself beautiful nor ugly. I can take some DANG nice photos and have some really lovely features, but enough funky ones to keep my looks at the level of (and I loathe this term, much as it is correct) “striking”. Usually I hear the phrase, “STRIKE THREE!”, or think of my big freaking nose knocking over a set of bowling ball pins when I hear it,  but “striking” is far and away the most often used term used to describe me.

Here is another thing about me.  I’m not one of those glowey, sun-kissed, natural beauties that roll out of bed looking amazing. They look good ALL THE TIME. Even without makeup. I am not in that category at all.I usually either look REALLY bad or REALLY good. Granted, I COULD look REALLY GOOD most/all of the time, but for the huge lot of lazy I have in me. Usually the “really bad” comes with bed head and no makeup and my glasses, but it’s been known to happen at other times.  I can even swing wildly on THE SAME DAY.

For example:

REALLY GOOD

REALLY BAD

(Ok, this WAS during the delivery of the little butterlump and last photo WAS after 8 hours of induced and un-medicated HARD AS HELLO SUNSHINE I AM BEING GANG RAPED BY A HEARD OF STAMPEDING BUFFALO!!!! labor, but I feel like it just drives my point home. Also? When I use the term “UGLY CRY” from now on you, um, know that I mean just that.)

EVen big events are not immune. Take BlogHer for example.

REALLY GOOD

REALLY BAD (I’ve actually never looked so wrinkly either in person or in a photo. Ironically, Lou is the person that took the above photo. He survived the glory that was me at breakfast after no shower, sleep, makeup or will to live.)

I am not a high maintenance girl nor an overly vain one. I am WAY too lazy for that. On a day-to-day basis I am pretty low key. I am like many moms that stay home to mind their children and spend several days in yoga or pajama pants.

I’ve also never let how I look stop me from venturing out and doing something.

This is not necessarily a good thing.

I think my utter low came when my personal and emotional life was at rock bottom.  It was so rock bottom that I was looking UP to see rock bottom. I’m not proud of it, but I went to take a final, um…wearing THIS:

Yeah, I know. Stunning, aren’t I? Truly…it’s one of those moments that make you joyful for the posterity of photography. To cut myself a LITTLE slack, this was taken a few days later, so I do brush myself up from time to time.

And, lots of the time it’s not THAT bad, but I am still guilty of going to public places pretty much looking like a rumpled mess.

I had one particularly memorable day this week.

I had an appointment to set up an account at a credit union with fellow board members of The Social Media Club of Cache Valley. We have been running around putting together our first event. (A “Tweetup” on January 14th (THAT WOULD BE TODAY, PEOPLE) at 6:30pm at Cafe Sabor in Logan. There will be free Pepsi products, swag for everyone and groovy door prizes like the new and adorably wee ipod shuffle and gift cards to Borders and Best Buy. You should all come if you’re in the area!).

Our appointment was at 10am.

Normally, that would have been plenty of time to get where I was going and look decent doing it, but I got a phone call during my “shower, hair, and makeup” time.  A really important phone call. From a really important person. In a really far away place. Basically, it’s one of those calls you don’t miss, you know?

I hung up the phone at 10:05 and I bolted and SEWED LIKE THE WIND!!!!! (Or, you know…ran. Sorry, did I mention that I have had huge hankering to watch The Three Amigos lately?) I threw on a shirt and pants that ended up being way too big (I’ve lost some weight.Who knew?), tennis shoes with NO socks and a leather jacket and scarf (which I kept zipped as to not reveal my “no bra” status) and I ripped through my hair with a brush while running out the door.

I was very late, but I got there, huffing and puffing and probably much too apologetic for looking like roadkill. But hello, I had no choice because my fellow board member Jill always looks and smells amazing.

The worst was that I had a LOT of business to conduct that morning  for the TweetUp.  And I did it all. And did a good job at it, despite feeling ill at ease due to appearance. I coped by just kept telling myself that while I didn’t look amazing, most probably wouldn’t give it much, if any, thought.

And it worked!

Until it didn’t!

On my last stop of the morning, I had to run by Jill’s office to drop off one of the donations for the party tonight. She works at the local Health Department.

I don’t know about where you live, but our Health Department houses and runs MANY different and wonderful programs. In fact, when you go in the door to get to Jill’s office, you pass through the “SUBSTANCE ABUSE” entrance that sits on one side of the wing and has “SUBSTANCE ABUSE” in big lettering on the glass door.

I walked up the path on the opposite side of the building and went in the door on the opposite side of the vestibule leading to the “SUBSTANCE ABUSE” door.

I wasn’t avoiding the entrance or really even thinking about it other than remarking to myself that the big, plain “SUBSTANCE ABUSE” lettering on the window made it look like a door on a movie or TV set and that I would now see that term in caps and bold in my head forever. I just headed in the direction I was going and pretty much gave every physical indication that that place was in the opposite direction.

All that indicating  didn’t stop the man that was headed into the “SUBSTANCE ABUSE” door from MARKEDLY looking me and my awesomeness up and down, holding the door open and saying, “Aren’t you coming in?”

STRIKE THREE!

Sigh.

.

*I know “SUBSTANCE ABUSE” (Gah! CANNOT HELP!) is a serious disease. Given my addictive personality I am grateful I have never gone there. If I had any serious vice outside of Diet Coke I would probably end up on a urine-stained mattress under an overpass, so kudos to those that have kicked it and have the courage to walk through that door.

**I also promise NOT to look like road kill at the Tweet Up tonight, so I really hope you can come!

I will be pretty.

And smell like flowers.

And wear a bra.

For reals.