I spent my day visiting family today. One of my cousins had a baby shower, and because I promised to be in better touch with everyone I drove down to San Diego and attended with my mom and my sister.

What’s embarrassing is that before I received the invitation in the mail last week, I had no idea that my cousin was even pregnant. That’s how out of touch I’d been.

Two of my other cousins were there—beautiful career women in their mid-20s and still amazingly eligible bachelorettes, making their mother (my aunt) wonder if she’ll ever have grandchildren—and I actually felt so tomboyish next to them and my sister as they talked about, well, girl stuff. Hairdressers they know. Brands of cosmetic product. Their daily regimen. I got the same feeling at Janine’s because Janine and her bridesmaids cared about how they looked. It made me realize I don’t spend enough time with other women, sharing tips on what it is to be a woman.

I have absolutely no idea how to be a girl. Either that or out of sheer laziness, I’d completely forgotten. I wear no makeup—maybe some lipstick at the most, even on special occasions. And except for a quick application of lotion on my arms and legs after a shower, I don’t really moisturize either. I had my very first manicure in Connecticut last weekend, but up until then I’d always gone completely natural with my nails, and before Janine’s wedding, I hadn’t had my hair done since … oh … prom night.

I’m a schlub most of the time, but when I get all done up I really do enjoy how I feel about myself. I guess I hardly ever go through the trouble because I’m not always comfortable with how others might react to me. I remember when my friend Katrina decided to give me a makeover one day for a basketball game. She styled my hair (it was a stylish ponytail instead of my usual plain one) and put some makeup on me, and those minor changes were enough to cause a stir among the squad and the crowd when we arrived at the gym.

My friends fawned and gasped in amazement. People did double-takes or stared. And a guy hit on me after the game, so persistently that Katrina actually had to fight him off and tell him to leave me the hell alone. Because the guy already had two girlfriends and a baby at home.

Funny that I don’t get that kind of reaction when it’s just me. Hardly anyone even notices me. Makes me think of all those cheesy teen movies where they take a girl in glasses and braces, give her a little makeover, and voila, the world’s suddenly in awe. And in reality, she looks the same! Just without her glasses, without her braces, and with makeup on.

The world is full of superficial idiots not to see past the glasses if you ask me.

Anyway, hanging out with my cousins made me realize I don’t take enough time treating myself to all the girly stuff. But for me, it’s not really about caring for my appearance; it’s more about the pampering involved in that. I don’t do enough of that. Self-indulge.

The drive to see my family didn’t seem bad at the time, but now I find I need a bubble bath to loosen the tension in my muscles from all that stop-and-go at certain areas. Guess that means I get to be a girl tonight and actually use some bath salts or something and forget all the old excuses I have for not indulging.

I just hope the pipes are clean today.

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