Okay, so I’m standing in front of the mirror this morning, and I’m trying to decide whether to wear my utility pants with the legs rolled up or down.  Now, try not to laugh at me yet…  I used to live in a real city and wear black and cool accessories.  I even got compliments on them most nights!  What happened to me that I’m trying to decide whether my worn out J Crew utility pants, which are probably more like parachute pants—legs up or legs down.  Seriously, is the little snap and tag line really something that was created by someone like Donna Karan

or some other runway icon that I don’t know about because I’m reading about business and ADD?  I can’t even come up with another runway icon, let alone a no-name! 

And seriously, I rolled the pants up to reveal a short, muscular little pug of a leg, speckled with leg hair and where’s the damn color on this thing?  I realize that I gave up the glamour of a tan-strewn body by having an Irish grandfather, but this is ridiculous.  I feel like if I even put the tan stuff on, it literally looks like translucent orange.  That’s not hot.  And I’m actually grateful that I know that. 

And who the hell cares if the worn blue pant with the side pockets side  have an extra smallerpocket ON the side pocket.  Is that what I get to show that I bought an upscale brand for $20?  Am I stupid enough to think that bargain shoppers on more expensive brands get the actual pants they sent to the woman paying $200?  No, I don’t think that.  So why am I laboriously trying to decide whether to show some white-assed, unshaven gambs as opposed to carefully concealed gambs, with a great shoe.  And how much did ya pay for those, sister?  Let’s just say I shop brands for less…  ring a bell of any kind?  So does it really matter if I spend an extra 2 minutes standing in front of my child-induced, toothpaste laden mirror to decide which leg looks better?  I picture myself for a second, wearing a long, gorgeous purple gown with diamonds and trying to decide which set of Jimmy Choos to wear!  Ahhhhh, how fabulous!  Wonder if my kids would like to do that today instead of school?  Is it Monday or Thursday?  Which fabulous gala did I have an invitation to today?  Or was today the lunch at Peter Piper’s, the crack universe of a child’s world?  I really think there has to be a correlation between drug and alcohol abuse and the number of times a child visits that place between 0 and 10 years old.  Can it be okay?  I’m pretty sure I’ve lost some short term memory sitting too close to the spinny thing with too many lights.  And why don’t they serve martinis there?  They don’t have to be overt!  Just put them in a cute sippy cup with confetti and “Peter Piper” on it, and we’re all gonna spend more money and let our kids stay all day!  What about happy hour specials?  But I digress.  And for good reason, I’m still looking through my calendar…  any openings for toy stores this morning?  Whatever happened to good ole fashioned morning grand openings for stay at home moms and their kids!?  I know, it’s not that I want to dress up every day, even though I try to imagine that I put myself together enough not to be super embarrassing.  I don’t wear my fluffy slippers and my “super cute” winnie the pooh pants that are CLEARLY pajamas to pick up kids.  NO one thinks you are wearing that t-shirt with no bra because it was cute.  It’s because it was on your body when you woke up five minutes before school started.  And that’s okay.  But I’m seeing my ridiculousness from a different perspective.  There is, in fact, a worse form of me.  It doesn’t matter if I wear the pant leg up, showing my short little legs and dull yet shadowy leg hair OR if I roll those babies down and try to give my five foot frame some height.  Because next I have to find a damn shirt to go with the pants, and let’s be honest–I don’t know if there’s a shirt that matches these babies and the orange  tennis shoes I’m sporting—clean, anyway.  In fact, I don’t know if I’ve even bought an entire outfit in the last seven years.  Soooo, I’m wearing one leg up and one leg down and flashing gang signals all the way in.  I’ll give the pajama mommies a little scare because if there’s one thing mommies know about—it’s CSI.  And there’s gang shit on there, right? 

Okay, wait, I’d have to do some quick research to figure out what the hilarious gang signals are—that I think I’m going to throw about frivolously at Tiny World on my way in this morning.  And I may not even wear a shirt. 

I’m feeling demoralized and wondering if I should just go back to bed—-BUT I’d be giving up my alone time for the week–because Lord knows the kids will be sick the rest of the school year until I’m NOT paying tuition, in which case, they’ll be perky and energetic and super annoyingly healthy!  And summer’s coming up.  That’s why I pulled these damn pants out in the first place.  I was thinking of different things in my wardrobe that might be lighter.  And let’s be real—am I really going to cool off a couple degrees with my ankles and lower calves showing?  Who am I kidding?!  It’s total BS.  In order to be cooler, I’ve got to show some arm, and they’re white too…  but still, not my worst asset.  I’m going to go without the visor, although I know it will keep my weird bangs from showing.  God bless the person who came up with the visor, right?!  Fabulously tacky and useful all at once, like we, as moms need one more practical decision to make.  Make me a silk hat that flies off whenever I move.  Make it show sweat and make it the ONLY choice on the shelf!  I don’t need to see dumpy capris, visors and goofy tennis shoes that make me look nerdier than ever before—but are super practical and comfy and affordable!  Make the t-shirts hide all those lumpy thingys that may or may not be on my back, side or stomach, because here I am deciding on pant lengths, and I’ve not even checked for back fat yet!  I have two kids to scream at before I get into the car!  And why doesn’t that burn fat, by the way?! 

Okay, I’m doing one leg up, one leg down, a tiara, the really tight shirt with a push-up bra that’s too small, and I’m on my period so my stomach is not only less than what it was before I had children, but it’s also less than even my mommy tummy.  Goood freaking night, it’s a wonder I am able to stay married!  I wonder what my husband’s secretary looks like.  Bitch!  I bet her panties don’t say, “Bite me” on them in worn out pink font like mine.  THAT’s hot!  Matching stuff is for prisses!

I remember when my mom looked frumpy (and she didn’t a lot), and I swore I’d never be that way.    But here I am, and I’m feeling fine now.  I’m actually over it.  The boys are ready for school for the first time in forever—before the buzzer in my head starts shorting.  My husband and his secretary won’t even know I looked like this unless I pull a real youtube moment at drop off (only 40% likely), and really-the shoes are reallyyyy comfortable.  I’ll just change when I get home….  Hmmmm, sure, I’ll change when I get home. 

 

 

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