I lay back and resigned myself to my situation. Clearly, I was going to be late, there was no way she was going to finish working on herself in the three minutes I had left to exit the house. I watched her comb her hair and pat it down again for the 100th time, and for the100th and one time. I wondered what exactly she was trying to achieve. It was frankly frustrating because she kept doing the same thing over and over again, and then undoing it; she would minutely pass the comb through the front part of her hair, pat it down to flatten it, and check herself in the mirror.
Then she would comb it out again and repeat the entire process.
When she finally seemed satisfied with the result and put the comb away, I could not see any difference at all. But she seemed pleased, and proceeded to start rubbing some powder stuff on her face. This was a bit more complex than the hair, this I understood that it had to come off as perfect if she was not to look like a clown. So I watched as she dabbed the pad in the powder stuff and patted her face in strategic places, before spreading the stuff evenly across her face.
And she did it so slowly that I closed my eyes in despair.
By this time I was already late. I reminded her I was running late. She said, ‘yes yes, I’m almost done’, and tucking away the powder things, she started rubbing lotion on herself. But it was not the same way other people do it.
She dropped a blots of the lotion allover her body, and then rubbed it in, like a massage or something. I gave up.
I went to the sitting room and switched on the TV. The earliest she would be out of the bedroom was midday, I resigned myself to it. I considered leaving her and running off, for the 10th time. But that is not the kind of person I’m. What annoyed me most me was that I had very clearly explained to her that I had a very early morning meeting, a very important meeting.
I had asked her if she would rather I left her behind and picked her up later, and she had said no, she did not want to be left behind. And we had set the alarm one and half-hours earlier, to give us both ample time to get ready.
True, she had woken up before me and taken to the shower where she had spent an unbelievable amount of time before she started on the make-up ritual. In between, I had taken a shower, ironed my clothes, dressed up and waited for her, before she even started combing her hair. When I finished dressing up and realised she was still combing her hair, I had stared at her in disbelief; what on earth had she been doing the entire time?
After what seemed like eons, she said she was ready.
I was embarrassingly late, yes, and I told her so.
She simply shrugged her shoulders, and said that she had tried her best. Normally, when ‘no one is rushing me, I take my time and do everything perfectly’.
She looked perfect even now, so I did not understand what she meant. And I said nothing, and asked her where I would be dropping her. But I could not let out a gasp of despair when she told me that after all that, she was going straight to her home, she was not working that day. So, all that had been for her to look ‘perfect’ on the drive from my house to her house!