Overthunk

I've been paring down the amount of makeup I carry around with me at all times. Currently, I am at the following purse totals: Three eyeliners -- brown-black, purple and blue One mascara -- brown-black Three lipsticks (including one that doesn't come off unless scrubbed) One clear lip gloss Concealer (although the one I have is old and I've already bought a new one) AND, this is only what I carry around... I have two makeup cases full of brushes, nail polish, eye shadow, glittery dust and other stuff, not to mention the dozens of tubes and packets I have shoved away in drawers. It's foolishness, I know. How much makeup can one person wear at a time? (Well, woman I mean, as I'm sure drag queens can wear significantly more.) I cannot really explain this other than feeling that I have to have a CHOICE. I do the same thing with shoes. I have probably 30 pairs. And oddly, I have noted that $6.00 Chinese-made shoes from Dollar General can smell like gasoline (making me w...

Some habits persist, and some come and go. Although my driving instructor bud tells me it's terribly dangerous, I must confess that I've been creating a new habit over the past few months: driving unshod. I can't seem to get home through the all-too-long afternoon commute with my shoes still on. Really, this is just an extension of my lifelong practice of eschewing shoes as often as I can. As a kid, I would refuse shoes to ridiculous levels: Hey! Let's see which barefoot kid can stand on the oven-hot Texas summer baked concrete the longest! Hey! Let's walk barefoot across Grandaddy's cow pasture full of torturous stickers to get to the pony that lives next door! How about over and over, for years!? I'm not quite that ridiculous about it anymore, but even now, the callouses on my feet are probably at least 1/4 inch thick (which was my handy excuse to the adult remedial involuntary driving lesson -- "my feet are like shoes"). Fifteen or twenty secon...