You want me to design what?
I am definitely not a “girly girl.”
Makeup is beyond me (despite my mother’s best efforts. Believe me, she gave it an honest go.) Hair? I have the Mom washngo style. You’re lucky if I run a brush through it. (I’ve got naturally curly hair. I can get away with it.)
Clothes? I’m a disaster. My mother-in-law buys my clothes. (She does a good job of it, too!)
I don’t wear heels. My shoes are all the sensible runners, loafers, sandals and slipper kind of things. Well, I have a good reason for that, actually. I have orthotics and ya know, orthotics don’t tend to fit in pretty girly shoes unless said pretty girly shoes cost $200-$400 a pair. I actually love pretty shoes, and would wear them if I could find some I can afford.
But clearly, I’m a girl disaster. (Don’t get my mother started.)
My hubby knows this. I suspect it’s one of the reasons he likes me, tell ya the truth.
And yet, even though I have proven time and time again that I am useless at the stereotypical girly stuff, he thinks I’m an instant interior designer. You know, because I’m a girl. Girls are supposed to be good at that stuff.
I admit, I love transformation/makeover shows and pictures where people show before and afters. LOVE them. I think I love them because the process in which people arrive at these transformations is completely beyond me.
But the Hubby wants me to pick colours for our (currently under renos) bathroom. And new lino. And new paint for the kids room.
PANIC. I cannot make these kind of decisions. I have.no.idea. I’m convinced I will pick the wrong thing or the wrong colour and seriously, I procrastinate, ask other people their opinion, and usually end up with the same that is already there. Unless, of course, Hubby or somebody else mentions that they think something else would be better. I usually go with their idea, in that case.
Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. And then I get grumpy because it didn’t work.
You’d think I’d be decent at that kind of thing, what with the synesthesia and the visual thinking and all. I’m no artist, though. My creativity exists in music and words.
So nope. Utterly useless. I hope Hubby’s got some good ideas for the bathroom. I’ll steal them when he’s not looking.