In Which I Am Both Cheap and Shiny. Kind of Like Your Uncle Bob's Suit. You Know, the One He's Worn For Years? Yeah. It Just Means I'm Worth Keeping Around, Right? Right?!?!

MTL: It's like I won the lottery with you, except I didn't have to enter.

TM: Well, you did kind of spend thirty dollars for a ticket.*

MTL: True. Best thirty bucks I ever spent. Now that I think about it, the ticket was kind of expensive when the prize is so cheap.

--Silence--

MTL: Um. That didn't come out right.

TM: Would you like to clarify that one for me?

MTL: What I meant was, you see, that you're so low-maintenance.

TM: Ah. Okay. I won't hit you then.

He's lucky he's so dang cute. And that I get him and knew it was just a brain-mouth disconnect. Besides, he's pretty much right. I am low-maintenance. I like it that way. For that matter, most men I know like it that way. In real women, at least.

My hair? I wash it in the mornings with Pantene. I towel-dry it vigorously. Then I run a brush through it and go. No blow dryer, no product, no hair irons.

My clothes? Yeah, I like to look good, but I tend to keep things pretty simple. Nothing too overwrought or complicated to grab and go.

My morning routine? I've been known to get showered, get dressed, get the boylets dressed, grab our stuff, and be out the door in twenty-five minutes. That's under pressure, granted, but still.

So yeah, I'm low-maintenance.

However, I'm very rarely seen out of the house without some makeup on.

It's nothing much, mind you. Powder, blusher, eyeliner, mascara. Perhaps a little eyeshadow. I can whip it on in a few minutes. But I wear it every day.

We all have our insecurities about our appearance. We all have our security blankets. Mine happens to sit around in a little pink bag. See, I'm as critical about myself as the next person. I scowl at my brownie muffin tops. I suck in my squishy belly. I peer at my complexion in the mirror, sighing over the scars and lines and certain other aspects that I'm not going to admit to in writing. Then I pull out my makeup bag and brush on a subtle veneer.

So when Jodie over at Mummy Mayhem challenged bloggers to post their naked faces on their blogs, sans makeup, sans primping, sans anything but woman au naturel, I was more than a little nervous. But her argument about how critical we women are about our bodies was a good one, and her challenge to bloggers to link up along with her has received a wonderful response. And then the amazing Wanderlust joined in with her own post, and when I whined in a comment about not having a good camera, she sent me a lovely and encouraging and totally guilt-trippy email more or less commanding me to Do It Anyway and so...

Here's the picture I just took of myself after my nightly ablutions, squeaky clean face and all (I swear it's fuzzy because of the crappy cell phone camera, not from any retouching):

And as proof that sometimes this happens without planning, this photo is from about three months ago on a day when I overslept my alarm, didn't even have time to shower (thus the hat for hair control purposes), and got nowhere near my little pink bag:

I've exposed a good bit of my heart and mind and soul on this blog. I suppose it only makes sense for me to expose my face as well.

Do you hide behind that sexy camera angle or PhotoShop magic or whatnot on your blog? Then head over and take the challenge too. I dare ya.

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*That's a story for another time. It probably sounds worse than it is.** But that could just be my gutter brain working.

**which isn't bad, trust me on that one. Get your own brain out of the gutter! Arby, I'm looking at you.