Sometimes Being Female Is Exhausting

And I'm not even talking about divisions of labor.  I'm coming at this from a purely grooming-related standpoint at the moment.  So many things that go into being presentable, at least conventionally so.

Cut, dye and style hair.  Manicures and pedicures.  Skin: creams and lotions and potions.  Makeup (so, so many makeup options.)  Fillers?  Botox?  Shaving, plucking, waxing.  And the clothes, dear god the clothes.  And the shoes.  And other matching accessories of course.  Overwhelming.  And in my opinion at least, just not worth it.  So OK with being the woman in the woods in a ponytail, jeans and hiking boots; I can't even process having to keep up with being a woman of style.  I don't have the energy for that.

Thinking about this today because I recently received the first in a series of monthly shipments of beauty samples.  This was a Christmas present from my dear MIL, who (I should say) is not at all the high-maintenance sort either.  The idea was that it might be fun to try a few new things.  The first box contained a small mascara tube, a shampoo and conditioner set that worked just fine but weren't especially remarkable, a face cream that I actually liked a lot, and then a small tube of some serum thing that actually stopped me in my tracks because I have no freaking idea what to do with it.

I gather that it is something that is supposed to be in my daily skincare regimen.  Which would be good if I actually HAD a daily skincare regimen...but no.  Middle-aged woman fail.  Unless, of course, keeping my face clean, well moisturized, and the hell out of the sun constitutes a regimen (doubtful) in which case I'm covered.  The world of retinols, peels, masks and such is alien to me.  It takes me approximately two minutes to put on makeup, for real.  I have no idea whatsoever what could take more than about ten minutes, which again, is the measure of my ignorance, not a criticism of women who actually know what they're doing and enjoy it.

I just don't have the energy or the time to worry that much about what I look like, I guess.  And I sure don't look like any Barbie doll, but in the tradeoff I'm ok with that.