Day 10

All the world's a stage...

So day 10 had finally arrived and I couldn't possibly be more thrilled! The idea of staring at my cupboard for 10 minutes without being able to make up my mind on what to wear excites me! I hate being rushed in general, but rushing through my most loved ritual of getting ready doesn't exactly set a good vibe for the rest of the day. But alas, I made it through these last few days, and as I sit here, waiting for the clock to strike 12, I feel as though I am getting closer to my glass slipper, rather than awaiting for my carriage and trusty steeds to turn back into a pumpkin and a pair of mice.

To sum up my experience, I now feel a sense of accomplishment, because I honestly doubted I could do this, the best however benefit of all, was giving my skin a much needed break, although I'm not sure if perhaps the stress of not putting on my face every morning did more harm than good?

There were times when I felt no strain at all in my task and times when I felt my bare face, wild hair and plain cloths were to my detriment. Over all if need be, I now know that I can do it.

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."  (Shakespeare, 2/7) 

In turn, if I am that lover, surely now would be the time that beauty would matter, if ever. So I'll smile and play around while I am young, because who knows what the future has in store for me. Beauty isnt the be all and end all, but right now, it holds value in my life.


Shakespeare, S, n.d. Art of Europe. Retrieved October 13, 2010
from http://www.artofeurope.com/shakespeare/sha9.htm