Going to Israel

My boyfriend and I are going to Israel on Monday. He’s from there, by the way,so we will be staying with his parents at Kibbutz Shamir. The last time we went was a week after the war last summer. We had a wedding we had to go to so we ignored the Katushas and the cries of woe from my family and booked our flight. I’d never been anywhere overseas except England and Ireland and not since the freakin 80’s!

A trip was long overdue. My dad was all like why don’t you just go to Paris?! Well, you and my dad should know a key fact about me: I am the kind of person who needs someone else to do stuff for them like make them take a plane over the Atlantic. And the destination the person who makes me do stuff picked was Israel.

In preparation for this trip I have dyed my hair and bought clothes. Naturally they all have to go back. EVEN THOUGH I tried them on! I swear. Oh God. Well, when I am rich I will have all my clothes made for me and they will look good on me because I will have had ass reduction surgery.

The hair color had to be done because I was 2 toned and just allowing it to be that way out of sheer indifference.

I have the kind of fine wavy hair that does whatever it wants. My Oma calls me scribblepater which in German means messy head or something. But I hate hairstyles on me. Not other people. On other people they look great. On me I feel too much like a headshot photo. It’s hard to explain. So even if my hair is neat I will mess it up on purpose and let humidity do the rest.

I used to care. I should care. And even though I consider myself kind of girlie I just don’t get into my hair unless I can dye it funny colors. Or stripe it with bleach and look like a biker’s old lady. Hair dye is my one nod to hair upkeep. And I cut it myself by snipping off the ends. This is my big, dark hair secret.

Because of various hair salon traumas and flashbacks of diffusers and mousse and hairspray and other potions for unmanageable hair, I have sidestepped a big part of lady life for many years. Until recently after getting my 4th pedicure in my life, for a woman of 36 this is practically unheard of, I thought about going to a salon.
I thought about it. Luckily I am not that hairy a person or I’d also have to think about waxing stuff. I guess I just don’t want to outsource so many of my personal grooming to people I don’t know.

I’m afraid they’ll all have these scary opinions about short hair and bangs and perms and nail art and won’t rest until I look like a 50 year old librarian.

So the hair is light ash brown by Garnier. No photo.
The trip to Israel this time is also for a wedding.

So there was the usual dress for the wedding stress. I picked up a good dress from dkny a long time ago. About 2 months ago to be exact. I tried it on many times and even bought those Flexees things(so humiliating) but every time I put it on it cried out for such an undergarment.
I thought about Dolly Parton saying in Steel Magnolias that she hadn’t left the house without Lycra on her thighs since she was 12. And so neither will I, at least while wearing a dress.

After finally returning all those horrible clothes I went right out and bought an armful more. I can’t help it. Going anywhere for any amount of time for me means getting new clothes. It’s very Pavlovian.
And it probably stems from the time when I was very small and had to go visit my Oma who would open my suit case and cry out from aggravation over the pathetic state of my wardrobe. Then would follow the usual harrangue over how everything was dirty or stained and ugly. She’d haul my tiny ass to Lord & Taylor to frighten me even further with Izods and Khakis. She’d turn me into a dwarf preppie. My Oma went from cocktail party to Country Club immaculately groomed, pristine, pressed and starched. She was not to be messed with.

Naturally now that I am old I should be able to combat such knee jerk responses to travel.
After all nobody over in Israel is going to yank open my suitcase and cry over the state of my clothes. I am no longer 8 and Oma is safely tucked away in Long Island.
Wish us luck and I will see you soon with photographs!