I've been a little hard on myself lately when it comes to my appearance.
Lately, errr scratch that, every day since AB's birth, I've been rocking some serious frump wear/style/lack thereof.
I've found myself overly fixated on the perfectly arched brows of a lot of my cute 20-something coworkers. Or their cute boots for different outfits. DIFFERENT OUTFITS? Their skinny jeans. The fitted tops. Hair curled perfectly each day. Even their lips aren't chapped. And I think to myself, good god woman, you have really let yourself go.
Sitting in a Target bag on the corner of one of the chairs in our house sits a boxed hair dye that I know my hair won't take, and a facial mask that I know won't make my pores disappear, but I'll still use them some day, when I can find time.
And then today, as I noticed someone's perfectly painted set of nails that were filed at just the right length, I remember thinking back to when I had a set of glorious nails. I mean glooooorious. And then they scratched AB and weren't so glorious. And then I realized that I love my non-glorious nails now because they allow me to play with AB, care-free.
The hair that needs a haircut and is clinging on to dry shampoo like its life depends on it? Well, it's perfect for all of the tugs that AB likes to give it when comparing her hair to mine. It also gave me 30 more minutes of AB time, instead of shower time in the morning. Baby time for the win!
The "mom-ish" jeans I'm rocking? They're not fashioned with built-in rips but instead find themselves adorned with the colors of AB's favorite crayons. Ahem. But I love them.
My trusty purple sweater that's my go-to at least 3x a week? AB loves pulling the strings of the hoodie toward her, for a kiss. Sooo, I'm going to wear it as much as I damn please.
My new pair of Skechers, instead of heels? Can I tell you how obsessed I am with them? They're perfect for walking to the park with AB, who has just learned to hold mommy's hand all the way! AB would have had to carry mommy home if she were wearing heels.
The favorite pair of sweatpants that have no shape? Well they certainly make it easy to get up and down on the floor to play blocks with AB. My jeans are um, more limiting.
My stomach rolls that now sit where my 8-pack used to be? AB gets a kick out of using my belly like a pillow, and since she's a feisty little beast that takes no prisoners, I'll take any form of snuggles I can get.
The forever un-glossed lips? I like AB kisses and AB hates lip gloss. And her kisses are better than that "yuck, yuck" stuff on mommy's lips any day.
The uneven eyebrows that I should fill in every day, but don't always? They remind me of AB as well, who grabbed my eyebrow pencil this morning, and has hidden it so that mommy can go on a Friday night scavenger hunt.
Now, that's not to say there won't be days where I'll blow dry my hair, or put on lipstick, or even where a shirt that isn't a maternity tummy control tank (just kidding, those bad boys aren't going anywhere), and those days will be awesome too. But my reality is that I'm starting to become ok allowing some of my "mom" side to take control of my fashion for a while. And I'm sure when I want to knock it out out of the park, those boots, and curling irons, and make-up will all still be there tomorrow.