Late yesterday afternoon I found myself fretting in my closet. What to wear? WHAT TO WEAR??!!
Thoughts of The Cool Police shoving me off the sidewalk runway of Manhattan, forcing me to sit on a filthy curb as they wrote me up a ticket for Being Too Mumsy In The Big Apple ran through my mind as I dug though the contents of my meager wardrobe.
I wore nothing but a sleek, slimming pair of very basic black pants, nude bra, and a face shellacked with cover-up when I found a top recently bought in the Anthropologie Clearance section during a solo trip to the mall in search of sneakers for Mr T. Behold, the Deletta Lariat tank in all it’s braided, tucked, draped beauty:
Old Navy, Eat Your Heart Out
I tossed it on and immediately felt better. Next up: accessories. I pulled all my jewelry trays out and walked from closet to bathroom to closet to bathroom with different combinations of earrings and bracelets to no avail. Then I remembered Her.
I had a coupon during a sale and came across this necklace at Lord & Taylor. I had to have her. These colors are pretty much the best colors for me, though I simply don’t wear things like this. But it was love at first sight, so I got my mitts on the Lucky Brand ‘Love In’ Reversible Bib Necklace and tucked her away for the day I was brave enough to put her on.
Intimidating, Isn't She?
I pulled out the 2 earring options I had in, slapped on this behemoth of an accessory, decided to be fashionably brave and ran down the stairs with my clutch in one hand and lipgloss in another to begin my first night out in a long time.
Why was I so nervous about getting dressed, for goodness sakes?
Why was I anxious about going out after dark?
Why did I feel so rusty at applying foundation and a smokey eye?
Why did the act of getting put together get me so damn excited?
Let me back up a moment, and explain….
When I lived in Boston I went out every week. I love to go dancing, I love to walk through a city as it buzzes with energy at night, I love mingling with all sorts of people. I love getting dressed up, whether alone or with my girlfriends as we’d blast the radio and dance while deciding on which top to wear and put on each others’ makeup.
About 11 years ago I moved to the NYC area. I worked in the city, so I got to live this dressed-nicely, walking around Manhattan lifestyle 5 days a week. And of course I was going out at night, too. Dancing, drinks, Broadway shows, off-Broadway shows, champagne bars, parties, charity events, club promotions, just walking around different parts of the city to soak it all in.
Then I got married, popped out 2 kids in less than 2 years, and moved to the suburbs when the kids were 6 months & 2.5yo.*
*Cue the stretch marks, saggy boobs, body shape that shifted from one unappealing flop-fest to another on a weekly basis making clothes shopping a depressing nightmare, udder exhaustion making me unable to stay awake to watch 10pm tv shows, a friend base consisting of other really really tired people, and a total loss of contact with any current news, trends or information that didn’t have to do with making it through another day with a baby or two in tow.
I was under that haze for a long time. ** The haze has a tendancy to hit me still at times, and sometimes I just don’t feel pretty. When you don’t feel good like that, you don’t have the mental capacity to make the effort to pull yourself together and get out. Go have fun. Feel young again. The longer you let this cycle go on, the more Frumpy Mummy you risk at becoming. It takes deliberate effort to break this cycle. If you don’t, the only place you’ll end up is alone in your kitchen wearing Mom Jeans and a kitten-applique sweatshirt wondering ‘what kids these days are doing on those fan-dangled Smart phone thingies‘.
That is not a good place to end up.
** If the schools want to educate kids on birth control, I say skip having them carry frigging eggs around in a basket, and let them move in with parents of young kids/babies for a week. They will realize how absolutely uncool you become once a child has sprung from your loins, how much pee and poop (and often spit-up/vomit) you deal with on an hourly basis, and the fact that all the attention kids need take away the time one needs to do important things like watch You Tube videos of Justin Beiber blowing out his hair or download the MTV Music Awards nominee playlist to their iPods. They will cling to abstinence like their very life and coolness factor depends on it.
I am now in better shape (after a year of hard work), with a better wardrobe (oh-so-slowly I am building it during sales or via various discount fashion websites like www.6pm.com ), and have a husband who is totally willing to stay with the kids to let me go out with my friends pretty much whenever I want.
So I am trying to get out more often. Or so I say. Or have been saying since last winter.
Last March I went into the city with girlfriends to see Wicked, the Musical.
And…um…yeah. I don’t think I went out in the city with my friends since.
Kim Is Brought To You Today By The Letter "L". And "O-S-E-R".
The summer flew by. I did get out locally a couple times, but it’s just not the same. Fun? Absolutely (that has more to do with the company of my hilarious friends). But I really enjoy being in Manhattan. I just do. I grew up in a small New England town and never felt at home there. I love the feeling the city gives me, I feel good there. Right. It’s stupid that I’m not there more often, which is why I told myself in 2009 that I needed to go back more often. Which, um, didn’t really work out as planned.
Fast-forward to now. October. 2010.
A good friend of mine (V) is in an new, award-winning cabaret group. I was lamenting to Hubby that I hadn’t seen them perform yet, they have a show going on that only had 2 dates left, and I didn’t know how I’d get to go.
He said “Um, why don’t you just call someone and go?”
Genius! I knew I married him for more than his good looks.
The short and sweet of it was that yesterday at 4pm I pulled into another friend’s (A) driveway, walked into her kitchen *** , and after a couple minutes of catching up with her husband, she and I walked out of the house kid-fricking-free.
*** Girlfriend, I know you’re silently reading this…so while I’m thinking of it you probably should lock that door so strange women can’t just wander in unannounced. Just give me a key or something, I’ll make more noise getting in so you’ll know its just me making coffee before I come find you, not a burglar stealing your stuff.
As soon as she looks at me, A says “Wow! You’re wearing makeup and everything!”
If this doesn’t tell you that I don’t get out enough, that someone – one of the nicest people ever who carries genuine compliments in her pockets daily – who sees me on a regular basis notices I look good for a change, then I don’t know what else to say.
Mind you, she looked damn good herself. So good, in fact, that one didn’t have the use the “For A Mom” Clause. ****
**** You’re not familiar with this clause? Please allow me to show you the difference:
“Wow! You look great!”
vs
“Wow! You look great….for a Mom.” (loosely translated means “for someone whose body and sanity has been ravaged by children, you look pretty good. You know, considering the battered materials you’re working with”)
We head into the city, and pull into a parking lot.
I roll my window down and the parking guy comes to the window. I automatically say “How you doing?” and he says…something….which I interpret as “how long will you be here?”.
I’m unsure so I turn to A and ask her, she’s unsure, and the guy starts saying “What? You get this all the time?? You say nothing??”
Now I am confused, because why would people ask me how long I’m gonna be all the time?
I said “Didn’t you just ask me how long I’m gonna be?”
He leans towards the window, laughs and says “You asked me how I’m doing. I said my night just got much better now that you’re here. But you pretty girls must get that all the time”.
I am so out of touch with looking nice, with going out in the city where everyone compliments everyone (trust me when I say, we were not the first ladies to get this exact compliment from this exact guy), that I don’t hear or know how to respond to a simple off-hand compliment by a parking attendant. I’m fumbling with my cash to pay him while my brain’s creaky wheels turn in attempt to process the compliment and come up with some acceptable reply.
I stammer “Oh…uh..I..um…thanks…we’ll..uh…be a few hours” and bolt from the car.
Very suave of me, no? *****
***** Please note I handle compliments much better when implied, not actually spoken (like in this case, the one time I was flirted with in 2010, which is noted because when being flirted with becomes an annual event you want to ensure others know it can actually happen) because I easily embarrass, despite my desire to know whether I am still desirable, and because I am a stammering idiot at best when it comes to interacting with strangers.
The rest of the night goes compliment-free, so there’s no more awkward moments for me to address ******. I felt like I looked good, the cabaret show was amazing (OMG hearing my friend V sing professionally for the 1st time was emotional for me, she is just so talented!), the walking around was fun, the Mexican food was delish, the people I was surrounded with were funny and interesting and made my night.
****** The necklace did recieve a couple compliments, but it is pretty fabulous on it’s on merit so those were taken on it’s behalf, in stride.
This morning I woke up tired and happy, promising myself to take myself (and my fabulous necklace) out more often. To get back into the city once a month (hopefully) even if it’s just to see an indie film that’s not playing near me out here in the ‘burbs. I’m glad I don’t live there now, I don’t think I’d want to with my kids, but I’m glad I am close enough to enjoy it whenever I want.
I just need to make a habit of dressing nicely and making the effort to do the things I really enjoyed before having kids. I’m out of excuses for being rusty at being Me.
Are you rusty, too, about something you used to do/enjoy?
Why?
Do you have a plan to get back to doing it?
dancing. i love dancing. i miss it. i miss feeling the beats and entering my own world of pure bliss!!! I have always said I am at my happiest when I am dancing, – hip hop, ballroom, salsa, anything… but i’m too anxious to leave the kids and go out in the city…not to mention my new fear of tunnels…and that leaves me with the sorry cafe on the hill with bad music, except for the breaks in the band with 1-2 DJ’d r&b songs where i can be the ‘old me’ again. i need to get out…maybe i’ll brave the city with you on one of your monthly trips…maybe…
Yes! You will!
The silly thing is that I get in my own way. I build things up in my head (I know, a shocker) and make my own obstacles.
Going out in the city is soooooo easy. You just get in a car and go. Park. Walk somewhere. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Just walking around eating a slice and people-watching is fun.
I’m right with you on the dancing front. Being lost in a throng of bodies moving to music that swallows you up and lets you just move? There’s nothing like it.
I like your blog.
Totally relate to this post. I’m not a SAHM. My daughter has recently left the nest which brings on a whole other kind of identity crisis – -and definitely having issues with the feeling pretty thing. And dancing. What did happen to dancing? Where does one go dancing when not in early 20s or 30s anymore??? We have dance party night in the living room, but it’s not the same.
Are you familiar with this blog? http://www.pbwrites.wordpress.com
She’s a SAHM and writer as well. I think you two would have a lot in common.
PS: The Anthropologie sale rack is the BEST! And that necklace is really cool.
Thanks for reading! I will definitely check out that blog you suggested.
I have a holiday party every year & I made our basement into a dance club. This means I turn off the lights, hang twinkle lights and candles, blast an iPod mix of dance-worthy music and we all just go for it. It helps, but its not the same! I feel so….MOM when I see girls headed out to the clubs. I need to get over that, and just go.
The Anthropologies find was a big one for me, since I’m tall most of their stuff never fits me. I was so happy to find 3 things last time I went!
I’ve been going out a lot in recent weeks, mom dates, weddings, parties. I’m realizing two things:
1. I am still too lazy to wash make up off before bed
2. Vodka is suddenly not on as good terms with me as it used to be. Jerk.
Love the top and necklace.
1. This, in my opinion, is a Sin. Consider yourself lashed with a wet noodle.
2. Please don’t say the v-word. Ooof.
If you ever come to NYC, I promise to take you out while wearing both.
I know exactly how you feel. As a busy mother of 3, I don’t spend too much time or effort on my looks and there are a lot of times “I just don’t feel pretty”. But I’m trying to make more me time & it helps. As for sexual education in schools, a friend of mine wants to show young girls pictures of her taut, pre-pregnancy belly then let the girls see her post-baby, stretch-marked, saggy-skinned stomach. We think that would discourage unprotected sex a lot more than what being taught now.
Love the idea! Before & After shots of us.
Before: hot chick in her 20′s.
After: striped saggy mess with hemmorhoids to boot.
My guess is it would be rather effective…
Yes, you looked gorgeous that night. I was more than pleased to have such a hottie for a date.
You know what I’m rusty on? Something I miss so much? Laughing. I need to laugh more. I spend much of my caroling rehersal last nigh cracking up and it felt SO GOOD. The combnation of doing somehting I love (singing)with talended people with dirty minds, plus the added perk of a hard cider had me giddy lke a teenage girl.
Why is it so hard to have those deep belly-laughs after “real life” starts? I think we’d be so much better off (that is the royal we…everyone) if we all walked around with stomach muscles just a bit sore from laughing, and heads full of silly stuff that makes us giggle for days after.
And it’s one of the reasons I adore you, m’dear. You are naturally funny in real life and when you write.
P.S. Note to self:be more careful about locking the kitchen door. Don’t want tall blonde theives stealing my coffee pods in the dead of night!
Thank you, you sexy thang.
And I agree on the laughing bit. With kids it’s more ‘exasperated’ laughing than the simple gutteral ‘funny stuff’ laughing I did pre-kids.
I know this is old, but I found it will searching for your bar recipe and had to laugh – that SAME month I was making a trip to visit my old friends in the city and I e-mailed them saying “Oh, God – what are people wearing?!!” I was so out of touch. I ended up just doing a pair of black pants (sound familiar?) and a white wrap shirt and then I made myself two really long strands of beads to dress it up. I looked fine. But I was really feeling lame and stressed about the whole thing. I mean, I used to look fab all the time, pretty much, when I lived in the city. Time marches on, eh?
Time marched on and took along my elasticity, perky boobs and ability to know what Kids Are Wearing These Days. Ooof.