I noticed a little while ago that I was terrifyingly close to becoming that mom. Not That Mom, but the other one. The mom I feared, the one I fought, the one I (sometimes-not proudly) wondered-how did she get that way? I am not sure what happened. I don’t know when it happened. What I do know, is that more often than not, my laundry basket was full of dowdy clothes and my stylish stuff was neatly piled or hung-untouched-in my closet.
I used to dress cute. I wouldn’t call myself trendy-my post-baby body doesn’t lend itself to trendy (except the 3/4 sleeve short trapeze sweater trend of winter ’08). I would have said I used to be- pulled together, maybe even stylish. Of course, I had my days of pajamas or yoga pants straight from bed to bed, but I tried not to leave the house those days.
Mostly, however you described my style, I did not used to look the part of frazzled mom of three.
For a few sad weeks, things changed. It started as a deliberate plan- I would dress in workout clothes as soon as I got up so that I was forced to work out ASAP. See, I would not be caught in work out clothes unless I was coming to or from working out. I do not have cute workout clothes. There are women who look fantastic in workout clothes. They have all the proper gear and their clothes SHOW that they workout- if you know what I mean. I envy them. I wish I was them. I often flip through Title 9 catalogs and fancy myself the gal who can walk through her days in trail shoes and cute little running skirts. But sadly, that is not me. Nope, my workout clothes could be mistaken for dust rags if they are in the wrong pile. So I thought if I dressed in gym gear, than I would take everyone to school and immediately work out so as to not spend my day in rags.
Then one day life got away from me and I picked up my daughter in the same clothes(Gasp!) I was wearing when I dropped her off.
Then one day life got away from me and I picked up my daughter in the same clothes(Gasp!) I was wearing when I dropped her off.
You know what? No one cared. People still talked to me and while at first I wanted to hide my face sans makeup I eventually talked back. It was liberating. It happened again, and again.
It was terrible.
Because finally the day came when I wanted the old girl back. I wanted the skinny jeans (I love that they’re called that BTW. I am not skinny. Therefore, neither are my jeans, but because of their tapered ankle, I get the luxury of owning something with the title skinny-and it’s intoxicating.) and cute shoes that I used to wear for school pick up.
The problem was that I was having trouble getting my groove back. If I take the time, and make the effort in the morning to get dressed properly, I really don’t want to take it all off two hours later to go work out. If I dress in workout clothes and try to get ready later, this is what happens:
- Step One: Shower at gym and pull clothes onto my sticky body-because you never REALLY dry in a gym locker room.
- Step Two: Leave with no makeup and wet hair-because you are so close to re-sweat that you can’t risk streaky makeup or a dreaded blow dryer and you convince yourself that the natural post-treadmill flush and Robert Palmer girl slicked back bun is an OK look.
- Step Three:Come home to finish makeup and decide to blow dry because RP bun is not so slick anymore and is looking like squirrel’s nest.
- Step Four: Remember you don’t have central AC and your bathroom is hotter than the locker-room.
- Step Five: Blast bedroom AC, run back to blow dry (rapidly) hair then run to bedroom with makeup so AC can nip blow dry sweat in the bud.
- Step Six: Set up makeup case at precarious tilt on bed, cross legs and attempt to apply eyeliner with right hand while holding compact mirror in left.
- Step Six-A:Smear eyeliner across cheek when two year old grabs “mommy’s shoe?” and jerks said crossed leg which causes arm holding eyeliner to jump up cheek. Thank God you are not blinded.
- Step Six-B: Chase two year old who has gotten hold of mascara wand and is running dangerously close to white (rental house) walls.
- Step Six-C: admonish two year old (because that works). Grab mascara and try again.
- Step Seven:realize you have minutes before you are late to school pick up so try to straighten Brillo like (badly blown out)curly hair in less than desirable time which means you’ll just wrap whole damn mess in a ponytail.
- Step Eigh: Notice you have mineral makeup dust all over shirt. Try to dust off. Now have mineral makeup smear all over shirt.
- Step Nine: Measure “late put-together mother” against “on-time crazy looking mother”. Decide teachers hate late more than crazy-so dash out the door looking like the lady on the corner who talks to herself yet pushes adorable blond boys in fancy double stroller.
- Step Nine-A: Pray to God everyone notices cute blond boys instead of crazy corner lady.
- Step Ten: Weigh working out against looking good. Discover to dismay that damn-they can’t be mutually exclusive.
My natural inclination is to ditch the working out and throw away all my mirrors. For a while. That’s exactly what I did. Sure, my makeup looked great, and with no full-length mirrors I imagined I looked great too. Then the muffin top reappeared over the skinny jeans. I decided skipping workouts wasn’t a great long-term solution. No amount of fabulous eye-makeup hides a muffin top. Trust me, I’ve tried.
I have devised a plan. In my gym bag I now have tinted moisturizer, mascara, tinted lip balm and super-strength hair gel to keep the Robert Palmer Bun under control (you gotta compromise somewhere). I dress at home, shower at the gym, throw on my survival makeup and RPB and then relish the fact that the skinny jeans, might really be skinny after all.
P.S. Looking for more parenting guidance and tips for self-care? Check out From Chaos to Calm a guided training to help you feel better in this tough season.
I was thinking about getting one of those "dresses" the kind that can double as a bathing suit coverup. I thought they were cute and could be worn out and about. Then I saw a woman with one on in the grocery store today. I am not that old yet!!!!! What is an RPB bun?
So what are you saying, sweats (gym shorts in the summer) and an old t-shirt isn't what you should go outside in? Oops, that was me last week in the mall:) No RPB but a baseball hat to hide the unwashed, not dried hair:)
Love this post!! I don't have any "cute" workout clothes and I am in dancewear 24/7 which is really a blow to the ego. I used to work the front desk at a salon and I was very put together and dressed nicely. Now it's Yoga pants and a Shoreline Tank top everyday. How sad!! (Although I love my job, so I really can't complain) PS: Always love the RPB…remember my Halloween pics. : ) XOXO