It’s weeks away before the big Christmas holiday, and already I have my suitcase out and ready to be filled for my next venture.
I’m headed across the pond to the land of bad teeth, free heath care and that God-awful thing they call The Eye(sore) overlooking the Thames (for the clueless, it’s London.)
Why start packing now, you ask? Because I am a woman, and as such, I am required to carefully plan my outfits, shoes, accessories and the like. It’s the law. Yes, that’s right: plan my outfits, a concept that I am sure is foreign to most men.
I should be considered “packing-disabled” and given a special sticker for closer parking at the airport. My problem? I over-analyze. I lay things out on the bed, make lists, cross-reference items. It’s a process, it’s laborious, and it’s by far the worst part of travel for me. By the time I have strategically aligned the clothing stars, I don’t even want to leave the couch I’m so mentally exhausted.
Not for my husband, though. He literally throws things in a bag, zips it up and is off
to his next venture. No matching socks, ties, and shoes. No plan, just stuff in a suitcase. Simple. And he usually has everything he needs when he gets to his final destination, sans the elusive Chupacabra of all travel items: the comb.
What baffles me is, I am an experienced traveler. It’s not like I haven’t packed a suitcase before. I managed to pack a real stuffed iguana from Ecuador in my suitcase on the return flight home to give to my cousin as a souvenir (his mother was less than thrilled, and I still don’t know how I got that thing through customs).
And yet, each time I pack, I’m as frustrated and paralyzed with indecision as the first time I packed a bag.
Here’s a typical scene from the inherent Mars/Venus packing war:
HIM: “Shoes, check. Suit, check. Tie, check. Passport, check. Good to go.”
ME: “If I wear this shirt with those pants, I really should pack my casual black flats, but then I really won’t have room for my new heels to wear with that new dress I bought for the trip. Hon, what do you think?”
HIM: (nonplussed look, shrugs) “I dunno…just bring sneakers.”
This does not help me. And I know I shouldn’t ask him for advice, but I always do, and then quickly resent the fact that a) I asked him again for advice and b) that packing for him is so damn simple. I want him to somehow feel my pain, to experience the Day in the Life of Woman Packing.
Then there’s cosmetics. Even with travel-sized bottles and small samples, I can still fill an entire suitcase with facial products alone. There’s my facial soap, morning moisturizers (with or without sunscreen), toner, exfoliant, hydrating mist, evening intensive moisturizer, eye creams….and I haven’t even started on the actual makeup itself: concealer, pre-foundation matte base, foundation, loose powder, compact powder, mascara, eyeliner, bronzing blush, regular blush, lip liner, lipstick—the list
is endless, and, at my age, I need all of it.
My husband? Dial soap. Period. That’s his skin care regimen. Truly disgusting and a concept I think most women would agree is beyond reproach. Wash your face with body soap? I can’t believe I married this man. I’ve even scoured countless cosmetics stores in search of the perfect facial soap “strategically designed for the special needs of a man’s skin” and dropped some serious cash in the process. End result? He never used them. The man products are still under the sink in their original boxes, hidden behind the remnant wrappers of his bulk collection of Dial soap.
Perhaps we women have a thing or two to learn from you guys when it comes to travel: keep it simple, stupid.
As I sat reading this I thought that I could have written this myself. I laughed until I thought I would actually pee my pants it was so Funny! Yes my husband travels simple as well & also uses body soap on his face. He also uses all my stuff that I lug with me.