I was reading a blog post yesterday over at Motherhood, WTF? And she was talking about how before becoming a parent, she was more fabulous and now she is sitting there wearing ill-fitting jeans and a grey fleece. While I was reading this, I too, was wearing a grey fleece.
I’ve always thought myself to be a bit more sparkly than that. Now, granted, that grey fleece is super nice and was a gift from my parents and I had just gone and walked the dogs … so to be fair, I wasn’t tragic. My jeans fit, are a modern cut, and my grey fleece is the same.
But I did feel, reviewing my evening outfit, that I was two clicks away from a highlighted bob, comfortable walking shoes, and about ready to spout off about sex-ed in schools or some intolerant shit that Those Women tend to say.
Feeling a little sad about myself and my life state, I took a look at what was REALLY going on here. Wait a minute! I’m not even close to that! I was just in my dog walking clothes and to have bedazzled dog walking clothes is just tacky. My manicure basket next to my computer contains the basics: nipper, file, sparkly polish.
I’m not too far gone. I think really it is my desk that gets me down. It’s a work table with a plastic top and fold out legs. One of those mass manufactured things that you are supposed to put out in the yard for your kids to sell lemonade from (however with a cute table cloth nearly to the ground and a lovely glass pitcher for them to pour from…). Thank goodness I’ve ordered a new desk. Green. With drawers to hid my crap and the option to embellish with new knobs.
The way, when I sit here drinking my Italian roast coffee out of my good china, clutched between sparkly fingertips, while an adorably dressed infant plays fairly nicely next to me on the floor I am pretty sure I’ll look as good on the outside as I feel on the inside.
So what is my point? My point is that it is very important to continue to strive to be the person that lives in your head regardless of your housebound job, your baby, your income, and how much dog vomit is on the floor that you are hoping will just be secretly eaten by the OTHER dog so you don’t have to clean up the chunks. The fantasy you is important.
Even if the only evidence of your fantasy self is your sparkly fingertips.