I have always cringed at the thought of becoming a haggard looking woman, trudging through the grocery store in a baggy top, sweats and flip flops. Baby in the cart or on her arm, constantly nagging "no!" ..."don't touch that!"...."you can't have it because I SAID SO!". Rolling her eyes and brushing her disheveled hair out of her face as she looks to heavens for help.
It's not this bad yet, but I am afraid. Very afraid.
About 2 weeks ago, in the thick of my I-am-just-working-around-the-house-so-all-my-clothes-have-paint-on-them-but-maybe-it-looks-artsy? phase, I actually took the time to look in the mirror for a second. And there they were. At least 10 of them. Yep, you guessed it...gray hairs. Sigh. Now, I am NOT a terribly vain person, and I KNOW it's not the end of the world. I actually think it looks awesome on some women when they pull off the all over shiny silver look. I am just not that woman...yet! But for me, at 27, it sucks pretty bad. To top it off, that same day, I noticed a disgusting sound my knees made as I descended the stairs from our second floor. Then the pain joined the sound. Imagine crinkling up tissue paper. For those who know me well, I cannot stand the thought, sound, idea of cartilage or bones moving in unnatural ways. When people pop ANYTHING around me, I cringe and my stomach hurts. So now, I can't walk down our stairs without focusing on that sound. I have started counting the steps out loud to mask it.
Finally, I decided to do something, at least about my hair. I had my appointment this afternoon with Tyson, whom I love. I got a color, highlight and cut, and a brow wax. I left the salon thinking this was just what I needed to feel better...Now, I will go home, put on makeup and start wearing my heels again!
Instead, I took a nap with Charlie, threw on my black loungy pants and a brown, yes brown tank with, yes...turquoise paint on it. Threw together a LOVELY dinner of chicken (frozen, mind you) sandwiches and instant pasta (Garlic shells).
I need to know how off the mark I was when I envisioned myself as a mother. Strutting through the grocery store in pointy boots and flared jeans, baby happily riding in the cart or in my trendy Ergo carrier...Great hair day, my bag matches my shoes, I'm buying only organic, extra broccoli, because it's baby's faaaaavorite. I'm even wearing jewelery! ...Obviously the envy of all the other moms in the store.
Okay, I am being a little silly. Of course I did not think it would be that easy. I am just struggling to find the balance between the girl I was not long ago, and the mom I am now. I still want to be the same, to a point. I don't want to recede into this hole until I surpass the horror of being the sweatpants lady, and become (GASP!) the spandex and old band tee shirt lady.
Sorry is this post sounds horribly vain. It's just been on my mind lately, and I am sure on the minds of the people who see me daily and wonder whether they should say something or not. Tomorrow I will TRY to get ready for the day like a normal human and maybe hit that grocery store. :)
Good night, all!