One Mommy Makeover, Please
During the second trimester of my pregnancy, I started making myself look cute on a daily basis. I found the most attractive maternity clothes I could find (and afford) and wore makeup, and kitten heels, and felt generally like a lovely glowing pregnant lady. Third trimester made it a little harder to give a crap about my appearance, but I did my best. I still wore makeup most days, and dressed in semi-fashionable maternity wear.
Then I had my baby boy. All bets were off. My uniform was yoga pants and a hoodie most days. When the weather got warmer, it became yoga pants and a tank top. Sometimes I dared to put on jeans or cargo shorts. Makeup? Please. Maybe a little undereye concealer if we were going to have company. I stopped putting product in my naturally curly hair most days, unless it was some kind of special occasion.
This has continued, I’m afraid, right up to now, when my son is about to turn nine months. If I have plans with friends, I’ll wear some actual clothes, and try to avoid shirts with stains on them. I might even put product in my hair. But most days, it’s just my boy and me. And even if we are going to interact with other people, but they aren’t people I plan to see on a regular basis, I don’t bother about how I look.
This was perfectly fine with me until now. What happened??? I was never a very makeup-centric person, but I at least tried to look nice. I realize a large part of this is that I haven’t gone back to work yet, and when that day comes I guarantee my attitude will change. I don’t plan to have meetings with opposing counsel dressed in a spit-up stained t-shirt, yoga pants, and flip flops. But how is it possible that I let nine whole months go by without caring about how I looked?
My husband is sweet and keeps telling me how amazing I look, so maybe I just felt like I didn’t need to put in an effort. But I’m not blind – there are a lot of mirrors in my house. It’s rather ironic that I am more concerned about my son’s clothes actually matching each other than I am about my own. I have become that mom that you see on morning talk shows, the one whose clothes don’t fit right and who has big bags under her eyes and split ends in her frizzy hair, until Kyan Douglas or some other makeover guru makes her look like a superstar.
Kyan Douglas still hasn’t shown up at my house. I think I need to take matters into my own hands. I bought myself some cute new tops, and I actually fit into my pre-pregnancy pants, so clothes aren’t really the issue. It’s more the why-bother-when-it’s-just-going-to-get-baby-puke-on-it mentality. I can’t help it. Almost every day, some bodily fluid of my son’s graces my clothing. Should I decide it’s worth the risk and wear something marginally attractive anyway? Probably.
But the hair and the makeup I can work on for sure. And the yoga pants. Damn those yoga pants. They just have to be so comfortable. I need something to jump-start my desire to actually look nice again. Maybe the holiday season will do it, since we’ll be seeing lots of family and friends, and photos will be taken. Going back to work some time within the next six weeks will do it, most likely. It just makes me sad that I really let myself go like this. I’m officially the “before” picture. Someone please give me a kick in the pants to help me want to be the after.