Saturday, December 20, 2003

The counter in my bathroom goes from wall to wall, and it is completely covered with girly stuff. By 'completely covered' I mean, well, something less than that, but honestly, there's -lots- of stuff on it. There's a sandcastle, for instance, that I got years ago at the opening week of the Florida Aquarium. It's a castle made of colored sand and it's really quite pretty for being full-on kitsch. There's a smallish wire basket full of eye makeup of varying degrees of disintigration that was supposed to (the basket) go in my shower but sullenly refused to stick. I've got small lotion and big lotion and an unstarted pack of birth control pills. I've got a pink toothbrush and a half-dozen hairbrushes and jewelery and a ceramic angel and, to top it off, a whole photobox full of hair paraphanalia.
Above the counter are -two- medicine cabinets full of perfumes and lotions and creams and salves and all other things -girly-.
I dig this.
In my last apartment I shared a bathroom with Jackie. We had little counter space to begin with and what space there was was generally covered with her things. Pete had more hair products than the two of us combined and so those took up the rest of the counter, leaving space for my toothbrush and toothpaste. Half the reason I liked this apartment so much (ok, well, maybe more like a quarter of the reason) was because of its huge counter, and the fact that I could sit on this counter and put makeup on and revel in my fairly recently awakened sense of femininity.
When it doesn't suck, being a girl is actually pretty neat.

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