Recently after picking up my daughter from dance class, I had an invaluable lesson in self-image from none other than my 6-year-old. It went something like this:
“Mom! Guess what! My friend Sophia said her mom was beautiful. Then Maddie said her mom was more beautiful. But ya know what I said?! I said that YOU were the most beautiful. Because I know you are the most beautiful mommy in the whole world!”
There are a few things I was able to conclude during my stunned silence:
- How adorable it is that a group of kindergarteners spent their free time in dance class talking about their mommies.
- That they all really do believe in their little hearts that they each have the most beautiful mommy in the world, to the point that they experienced an actual disagreement over it.
- That more moms need to be aware that these conversations are happening, and it’s a very good thing.
These days, if I’m being honest, I certainly feel anything but beautiful. I feel rushed and busy. I feel good about fitting into my skinny jeans, but bad about the fact that I own nothing but tee-shirts to pair with them. I feel like I need an extra cup of coffee to get through my day. I feel like I probably should have put on some blush today since I ran into an acquaintance at Walgreen’s while picking up a prescription for my youngest daughter, who currently has strep throat, looking like something the cat dragged in. I feel like it wouldn’t kill me to put on a pair of shoes that aren’t combat boots, until the practicality of my day sets in and I say “F THAT” and throw on the same busted pair of combat boots I have been rocking for 3 years and running. I feel like I wish I had cut my workout 20 minutes earlier to hit the shower so that I could show up at my daughter’s dance studio not smelling like a gym rat for just once in my life. I feel like I should have taken the time to wash the paint splatters off my arms and hands, but honestly didn’t even notice them until I was standing here in the school pick-up line, again, covered in paint splatters. I feel like I desperately need my hair done, but don’t feel like spending the $200.00 it will cost me to get it back to looking fabulous. Hell, what’s the point? I wear baseball hats 5 days a week anyway. What’s a few more weeks without a touch up? The state of my nails could be described as an embarrassment at best. My cuticles have run rampant and my nails haven’t seen polish since I stood up in a friend’s wedding 7 months ago. Please don’t cringe like that. It hurts me.
So yea. Beautiful isn’t a word that’s included in my current self-assessments.
Back in the day, when I thought I was “busy” working a couple of part-time jobs and going to college, I still managed to keep up my beauty regimen. My well-planned series of treatments, dyes, bleach and wax transformed me from a regular girl into a goddess, really. Despite my crazy schedule, I had infinity time to spend at the gym. I showered, blow-dried my hair and applied makeup EVERY SINGLE DAY. I got manicures, pedicures, spray tans and whitened my teeth every other week. I got my hair professionally touched up and my eyebrows waxed every other month. I got facials regularly. I sported smokey eyes and contoured cheek bones when I went out every night. I exfoliated and moisturized and conditioned my skin and hair until everything was softer than a brand spankin’ new baby’s behind. Face masks? Yes. Hair masks? Double yes. Paraffin wax on my hands and feet? LIKE THERE’S EVEN A QUESTION?! YES. (I mean what if someone glances down at my feet in my strappy shoes and they look dry around the heels? THE HORROR.) I put thought, time and energy into my appearance. Back then, I definitely felt beautiful.
Soooo fast forward to now, and my beauty routine consists of tinted moisturizer, mascara and chapstick – on days the public is lucky. If I wash my hair, you might see me with it down that day! Chances are its soaking wet because the thought of blow drying it with a round brush until it was perfectly smooth, yet voluminous, makes me want to stab out my own two eyes with said round brush. If I washed it yesterday, it’s DEFINITELY up in a top knot by now. If it’s been 2+ days since a shampoo (and that’s basically 80% of my life, folks!) …..I’ll let you in on this beauty secret….ponytail and White Sox hat. Try not to be envious of my natural sense of style. I know, it’s hard. Want to hear a funny story? I watched a beauty vlogger style her hair with dry shampoo once. I even went out and bought some after that. It’s still sealed and will probably sit in my bathroom cabinet for all eternity. REAL TALK, PEOPLE.
I used to spend hours buying, trying on and styling outfits. I had coordinated clothing. I was rocking the latest trends. I even owned cute bras, because I actually needed to wear them before I had two kids suck all that was living right out of my boobs. Want to know what I wear now???
Painting clothes.
Part of being a DIY junkie means getting your hands dirty sanding, priming, painting, distressing, sealing, etc. Once paint splatters onto an article of clothing, it becomes “painting clothes”. I have an entire drawer full of painting clothes. Usually I am rushing to finish a project in between drop-offs and pick-ups of kids to various schools, sports and activities. I don’t always have time to change into clothing suitable for public. Consequences of that = I look effing homeless. Occupational hazard, I guess.
If I’m not wearing painting clothes, then I’m wearing workout clothes. I have to squeeze daily workouts into those precious fragments of time in-between my kids’ activities, meals, what have you. Therefore, I don’t always have time to shower, let alone change into clean clothes, before running out the door. Upside = my body is still bangin’, yo! Downside = again with the homeless look. A girl can’t have it all! Which brings me back full circle to that whole bra thing…. I wear sports bras every damn day. If I’m hoisting these sad lumps of flesh that my hungry babies have left behind into a real bra, I better also be drinking wine from a bottle that cost more than $10 and eating a meal of food prepped by a professional chef. Since those nights are rare these days, hellooo sports bra! (There were days I would read something like that and be ashamed for the poor soul who wrote it, but now I’m just proud of myself for taking the time to use support at all. The concept of free-boobing is quite tempting.)
I know there are moms out there who still look fabulous every day. I see them, and I look at them in awe. I probably could do that too, if I reallyyyy wanted to. Maybe I should get up at 5:00 in the morning, workout, shower, blow-dry my hair, apply makeup and put on some actual clothes before my kids get up at 7:00. I would look nice dropping them off at school. I would look like a civilized lady while grabbing groceries and stopping by the dry cleaners and post office. I could put on an apron to cook and bake so I don’t ruin my nice clothes. I could wear coveralls while I paint, and then take them off to reveal my pristine outfit when it’s time to go pick-up one of my kids. I could go get my nails and hair done regularly on evenings when my husband is home, instead of spending that time with my family.
Could of…should of…would of….
But who would all that effort be for? Why put myself through that if my heart isn’t in it anymore?
When I think about it, I like to squeeze my workout in during the day so I can get that extra hour of sleep in the morning. My kids complain when they give me kisses and I have makeup on. My 4-year-old says, “Mommy! You smell like makeup! I like to kiss your real face!” My husband likes it when my hair has no product in it and he can run his hands through it, and rolls his eyes every time I get dressed up and bust out the bottle of hairspray. I actually like the way I look in jeans and a white tee. I love the way my feet stay dry and comfortable as I run around in my trusty boots. I love getting caught up in a DIY project or writing a blog post, and would rather spend every spare minute working on it than quitting early to “tidy myself up” before I leave the house. I’m a different person now. I’m a mom. It isn’t glamourous, but it’s so much better than any slew of beauty treatments you could dump on a face.
So this one’s for you, my fellow moms without manicures, go ahead and feel beautiful. Raise up that mug of coffee and make a toast to your favorite jeans! Pat yourself right on the back of your tee-shirt! Go get all the kisses on your bare face and throw a ball cap on over your air-dried hair. Because the most important little people in your life already KNOW in their souls that you are the most beautiful mommy there is, so there’s certainly no need for improvement!