Trading Heels for Hay Bales: A Day in the Life of a “Glam Farmer”
If you had told my twenty-something self—the one who strutted confidently in four-inch heels through city streets, clutching a latte and perfectly pressed blazer—that one day I’d be trading stilettos for muck boots and hay bales, I would have laughed you right out of the coffee shop. And yet, here I am, living proof that life has a funny way of taking the scenic route. I like to call myself a “glam farmer”—equal parts mascara and manure, contour and compost.
My mornings don’t begin with a neatly brewed latte anymore but with the rooster’s crowing, usually much earlier than my body would prefer. Instead of silk pajamas, I’m wrapped in an oversized hoodie, trudging out to the barn with a messy bun that could double as a bird’s nest. Still, I swipe on a little lip gloss before stepping outside. Call it vanity or call it survival—when you’re ankle-deep in mud, a little sparkle goes a long way.
Feeding the animals is the first task of the day, and it’s a glamorous balancing act. Picture this: one hand scattering feed, the other holding my phone to capture Instagram-worthy “farm chic” selfies. The goats don’t always cooperate; in fact, they’ve photobombed more of my shots than I’d like to admit. One particularly sassy goat named Dolly seems to have a knack for chewing on my hair just as I’m trying to document my “country couture.” Forget fashion week—the real runway is the path between the barn and the chicken coop, dodging puddles and stubborn hens.
Of course, there’s real work involved too. Hauling hay bales may not sound chic, but I’ve learned to treat it like my personal farm-girl workout. Who needs Pilates when you’ve got livestock chores? I sweat, I struggle, and yes, I sometimes mutter unladylike words under my breath, but when the job is done, there’s an undeniable sense of pride. The manicure may chip, but the confidence is unshakable.
By midday, I’m usually covered in a mix of hay, dirt, and something I hope is just mud. This is where the glam farmer spirit shines. I don’t let grime steal my sparkle. A quick spritz of dry shampoo, oversized sunglasses, and suddenly I’m farm-fashion ready again. My neighbors might raise an eyebrow at me lugging buckets while wearing gold hoop earrings, but I say why not?
The afternoons are often quieter—time spent tending to the garden, checking fences, or brainstorming ways to turn farm chores into TikToks. There’s something deeply satisfying about merging rural grit with a dash of glam. It’s proof that you don’t have to choose between loving beauty and embracing hard work. Out here, I’ve learned that confidence doesn’t come from heels or hay bales alone—it comes from owning your unique blend of both.
As the sun sets, I swap boots for slippers, pour a well-deserved glass of wine, and scroll through the photos of the day. Some are funny, some are messy, and some capture a raw beauty I never experienced in the city.
Being a “glam farmer” isn’t about perfection. It’s about finding joy in contradictions, laughing at the chaos, and proving that you can, indeed, rock mascara while mucking stalls. Life on the farm may not always be glamorous, but it’s always authentically, unapologetically me.
