I was listening, half-heartedly, to one of those makeover-type shows. I heard the tearful exclamation by the woman being made over as she lamented (be sure to inject a significant amount of barely contained tears as you read…) “I just don’t know what happened to me. I don’t know when I just let myself go. Now, I go out of the house without make-up, which just shouldn’t be.” Sniff, sniff.
Uh huh. In my humble opinion, the most important lesson in her makeover would have been to teach her the law of low expectations. Of course, that’s never going to happen, as the show is paid for by the advertisers of beauty products. None-the-less, low expectations are the key to a long, and compliment filled life.
The basic principle is that whenever you move into a new neighborhood, you must quickly and consistently demonstrate that you are a slacker. Never wear make-up for the first week or so. Be sure to dig those worn out sweats out of the Goodwill bag and use ‘em as standard wardrobe – paint stains contributes an extra layer of panache. If your budget can afford it, be sure to order a variety of pizza delivery for the first week in residence. For those with long hair, an ever present ponytail and ball cap look good, for those of us with a shorter do….just roll out of bed, run your fingers through your hair and call it a day. The scene has been set. Each time a neighbor comes by with brownies or cookies they will find you a mess. You have now established low expectations. You have NOTHING to live up to. Nirvana.
The first time a neighbor sees you in make-up they will gush with how lovely you look. Simply blow dry your hair and apply lipstick before a trip to the grocery, and everyone you run into will say “I can’t put my finger on what’s different, but you look really nice today.”
Setting low expectations is not letting yourself go. I repeat, it is NOT letting yourself go. No…this is strategic planning, no less important than the Yankees’ play book. By setting low expectations, there is no where to go but up. What a lovely place to be. Once a neighbor has come into the family room to find you sorting underwear for laundry, it can’t get much worse.
Actually, my finest moment of low expectations occurred many years ago when my oldest son, Nick, was in kindergarten. To set the scene, it was a nice spring day, and I was standing at the fence chatting with my neighbor, Stephanie. Stephanie the wonder-woman: beautiful, sexy, great cook, runner, and tidy-house award winner for at least 5 consecutive years.
Nick stepped out onto the back porch, wearing his slightly baggy “He-Man” underwear and shouted, “Hey Mom, I don’t have any clean pants!”
I answered, “Yes, you do. Your brown cords and blue jeans are both hanging in your closet.”
“They can't be clean! They're not hot,” he said as he went back into the house.
Ah yes, the pinnacle of slackerdom, a child who has become totally accustomed to a wardrobe that is only ready-to-wear fresh out of the dryer. No pressure on me to be mother-of-the-year. If I could only depend on Stephanie to pass the story along, I was likely to get out of multiple PTA committee assignments, as no one would suspect that I had any organizational skills.
Women! Stop fighting to fit time in to do everything! Enjoy life, with a clean face, and a full laundry room. Trust me, it works. You’ll like yourself better as you can always acheive the goals that you set for yourself (#1 Breathe, #2 Eat, #3 Play with the kids or walk the dog, #4 start at the beginning and repeat). Anything over and above that is clearly overachieving.
Consider it a random act of kindness when you run into a co-worker at the store and she is pulled together and you are…well…not so much. You have just boosted her self esteem. Consider it a random act of kindness. So, I’ll close with some words adapted from a man who does know how to set low expectations (think baseball career) ~ Garth Brooks
'Cause I've got friends in low places
Where the expectation is that I’ll be
Make-up free, and honestly
I know I’m okay
I'm not big on social graces
Think I'll slip on down to my own oasis
Oh, I’m my own friend in low places
