I do not think of myself as a person who is vain. My approach to my appearance is basically "try not to look like an idiot". Bra UNDER my shirt? Pants on? Unibrow dealt with? I'm ready to meet the queen.
In my old age, however, I realize that I am becoming a little more conscious of my appearance. Three things in particular stand out in recent memory.
1. Hair: I finally broke down and purchased a straight iron because I couldn't stand how frizzy my rapidly greying hippie hair was getting in the moist environs of Vancouver.
2. Visage: I accidentally bought a moisturizer that has "a hint of sheer foundation" in it. I don't wear foundation - ever - but I also don't like to waste things, so I decided to give it a try. The first time I put it on, I felt like Al Jolson. But I have come to appreciate the bronzy glow it gives my skin, not to mention how it covers up the occasionally excessive ruddiness of my complexion.
3. The Dog.
Say what you will about my own physical appearance - there is no denying that our dog Emmy Lou is a very healthy and well-cared-for canine specimen.
Plump wrinkles, resplendent jowls, glossy coat, firm little hamhocks...on days when I feel like 10 kinds of ass, Emmy Lou's fawn coloured fur makes me look good. I am regularly complimented on the beauty or cuteness of my dog and I have come to expect these compliments, the way Pamela Anderson expects drunken fans to motorboat her boobs.
And then came...last week.
About twice a year, Emmy Lou goes through a massive shedding period, where every time I brush her it's like I'm shearing a bitchy sheep and every time we pet her, piles of fur end up on the floor at our feet.
Usually the shedding does little to diminish Emmy's natural beauty - it only diminishes the efficacy of our vacuum cleaner.
But out on our walk one day last week, after a period of hard brushing, I noticed these.
DIVOTS.
Me: OMG, Emmy Lou! Are those DIVOTS??
Emmy: What?
I know it's dumb. The dog is shedding. Some of her fur came out and now she has a couple of bald patches. Who cares, right?
ME.
Immediately after the divots appeared, strangers' usual exclamations of "Oh, your dog is so cute!" changed to "Oh, your dog is...what happened to her coat? Was she in a fight?" Then they would give me a look. A look that said "I didn't know Michael Vick disguised himself as a fat white girl in Vancouver."
Being regarded with suspicion by Richie Rich Boomersomethings and hobos alike for a week now has taken its toll on creampuff moral. I have become extremely defensive about Emmy Lou's divots. "SHE'S SHEDDING" I'll say to anyone who even vaguely looks in our direction, "It's a NATURAL PART OF LIFE."
In an effort to reduce the divots, I've brushed the shit out of this dog. I gave her a bath, which she hated. And while the hair is starting to grow back, it's still pretty clear that there are big chunks of fur missing and that I must be a terrible person.
It's clear to me now that I'm being punished for my dog vanity. And I suppose that after two years of using my dog to make myself look good, I'm due for a little humbling. I'm not quite ready to give up yet though - in fact, this very weekend I think I figured out how to distract people from her blemishes until the fur grows back in. How?? Well...I'm training her to become THE FLASH. Behold!
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