Note: Some of the actions are exaggerated. A little drama never hurts.
I am late, always. No matter what I do, I am usually late. If there was a medal for 'punctuality', I would be one of the top contenders for the 'coveted' award.
I have tried it all - Adding half an hour to my clock, setting a reminder in my cell phone, waking up earlier (hah!), making my friends intentionally lie the soiree time to me, but nothing seems to work. It doesn't count on what I do, I have been consistently late. I guess I am naturally late.
This differs from those who are purposefully late.
Now see, I would be seen (on a constant basis) dashing through the doors, huffing and puffing, trying to slide into the already-began meeting noiselessly (praying that the door hinges wouldn't creak or God forbid, my clumsy self stepping on toes, resulting in loud 'Ouch-es', lo and behold, I have made my presence known.) while nodding shyly to the orator up front. Those who are purposely late would sashay into meetings with panache, hold their heads up high and strut, in fact, to their seats and blend in like a chameleon.
At this point of time, I am beginning to think that perhaps I lack finesse.
Moving on, I decided to re-examine myself, trace back the steps and hopefully with the causal link eradicated, I would, for once in my life, arrive on the dot.
Here goes...
With all the soaking, self-examining and rub-a-dub-dub done, I emerge from the bathroom, clothed with a towel and shower cap.
Next, comes the ransacking of the closet. Where I am concerned, there are only three types of clothing. They are - Flatterers, Accentuaters or Downplayers (of my curves, that is).
Then, the voting to decide of which to don the lower half of my physique begins. Either, it is my black skinny jeans or my beautiful Levi's (which hugs in all the right places).
I regale pleasing both parties, trying them on religiously with various tops until I have decided, not forgetting to make sure my full length mirror obtains a snapshot of each and every mix and match.
Oh, and a spritz of perfume to brighten up my day. One spritz on the wrists, another on the collarbone and a last on my top.
Proceeding further below, my size 7 (or 38) feet. I have a sizeable collection of heels (To be honest, nine out of ten pairs are impractical to be worn on a daily basis, only suitable to be worn for a couple of hours before they start pinching my toes.). The two early preferitis would be my classic black pumps or fire-engine red stiletto heels.
With that covered, my drawers are pulled out, make-up essentials strewn all over my dressing table and the face works begin. (Psst, a moisturized face is always the best canvas.)
When all that is said is done, I would exit my room.
Not before, leaning in real close to the mirror to examine and scrutinise my make-up. More colour would be added to the lids, making sure the colour is noticeable as there is nothing worst than a disappearing act of eyeshadow.
With that, I would flutter my eyelashes within an inch of their lives and add more mascara, fingers crossed that it would successfully add prolific strands to my measly, sparse lashline.
Dusting on a little more powder, I would step further back to critique my outfit of the day.
By the time I am done playing Simon Cowell and Fashion Police all rolled into one, I steal a glance at the clock and am in for a rude awakening - I am left with a miniscule of five or ten minutes buffer time.
If I had gone full force on preparing the night before, I would be 10 to 15mins late, tops (and also if I had green lights all the way.).
Important Note: The above routine and regime only applies to non-college days. Sleep is of uttermost importance on those dreary college days and from what I've been told, wearing make-up daily is bad for skin. Somehow or other, lateness persists to prevail.
I believe that I had used time wisely, worthy allocations made for each step.
With this piece written, I speak on behalf of those with XX chromosomes.
Those pretenders of the throne with XY chromosomes, THIS *points above* is what we do to make your knees weaken and you go gaga for us. Deal with it.
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