Schlumpy Mom

I am schlumpy.  Somehow I’ve lost my way with my stay-at-home-mom-uniform.  (You know it.  Black yoga pants and various crinkled clearance-bin T-shirts.) 

Maybe I shouldn’t be sitting here in my stay-at-home-mom uniform with mysterious stains eating ice-cream and watching ‘The Devil Wears Prada.’  I’m the before Anne Hatheway, the one with the long skirt she got at a thrift sale and the blue sweater she got on clearance at a Club Monaco.
Ah, but I’m beyond such things as fashion.  And clean, wrinkle-free clothes.  And make-up…right?  I’m too smart to worry about what I put on my back.  And yet, and yet…sometimes I wish I had a closet full of clothes I don’t need.  Two for every occasion.  And instantly I feel guilty.  Images of hungry children starving in Africa flash into my head.  So many better ways to use any extra money I have. 
And yet…as I sit here in my rumpled uniform and ponder the vastness of space and the fleeting nature of our lives I have to wonder…would it kill me to vary my uniform every now and again?  Wear a dress shirt?  Iron…something?  
I think I’m just missing a little adult-time in my life.  A chance to get dressed up and feel pretty instead of just grabbing what I can find that doesn’t smell on my way out the door.  Sometimes it’s fun to be a girl.  Put pretty nail polish on, wear a dress, try a new kind of mascara even if you don’t need it.
As I put on my gardening clothes and look for my trowel I think…this is good too.  My head is full of landscaping plans for our new backyard, on where the light hits the ground.  Where would be a good place to plant my lavender and sage?  On how to keep the deer from eating my roses.  I think I came to a choice a long time ago about what I wanted to focus on, on what I wanted to be.  And it wasn’t on how to dress.  I don’t know designers or frankly, how to put an outfit together.  (I have two colors in my closet – brown and black.  Anything other than that, mom bought it for me….)  And for the most part I’m ok with that.  
But.  I’ve REALLLY gotten bad lately.  Since I’ve become a mom I’ve sort of become third priority to myself…Ellie, Bill, me.  And that’s not right either.  I mean, really, I’m not a hundred yet I’ve still got one or two good years left where if I try really hard, I could still turn a head or two.
So, my vow for the next couple months is to get myself one new outfit and to wear make-up at least two of the seven days of the week.  Just for me.  Just so I can look in the mirror and instead of seeing a tired, pale face gaze back at me wearily, I see the vibrant youngish woman I feel like on the INSIDE.  Because that’s what matters.  Because being a good mom is about doing what’s best for you, too, every now and again.  A happy mom is a good mom.

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