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Confessions of a Frumpy Mommy

February 4, 2009

Frumpy Mommy Syndrome

 

After watching an especially enlightening episode of What Not to Wear one day, I discovered that I have lost my identity.  I am a frumpy mommy and yes, I have worn my workout clothes grocery shopping.  Even worse, my favorite word when describing clothing is comfy

 

It’s not that I have given up completely.  On my bathroom counter I have a tiny tub of cream called Hope in a Jar.  My shower holds a Five Minute Miracle for my hair.  In my cupboard you’d find firming lotion I had hoped would work better than the stair climber at the gym.  It didn’t.  Neither did the self-tanning lotion that promised to have a slimming effect.  It in fact had a streaking effect and an odd smell.  You can see that in my own little way, I still try. 

 

The funny thing is that I don’t mind so much.  I am pleased to have lost the part of my identity that found value in how I was dressed or what I looked like.  I am thankful that I don’t have an hour every morning to spend on my face.  More shockingly, I like being known as Coco’s mom or Soleil’s mommy. 

 

Even so, I long sometimes for the days when I dressed up every day for work and lived in high heels.  Eric would smile when I walked in the door and could hardly resist wrapping his arms around me any time we were near each other.

 

Not that those days are completely gone.  Just yesterday as I passed Eric the trash to take out, our hands touched. “Wow,” he said, “it’s nice to see you…dressed.”  Ah, the romance of it all.

 

While I may have once pitied women like me, I now appreciate them because I understand that this mommy look is carefully constructed.  Gym shoes aren’t a sign of laziness, they are a necessity. Who can chase after a two year old in the park while wearing stilettos?  And though baby doll dresses may be back in fashion, I for one am too afraid of being asked when the baby is due to even try one on.  As for low rise jeans, I see no reason to have my backside exposed when I am bending over picking up toys all day.  I don’t think the kids would thank me, either. 

 

When I get to feeling sorry for my frumpy self, I remember that this comfort-look is only for a season.  Like the months when I wore tops of whatever color food my baby was trying that day, these days will soon be but a memory. 

 

 

 

Until then, I still have Hope.  It’s in a pretty little jar.

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. Mamala permalink
    February 4, 2009 1:04 pm

    Oh my gosh!!!!!!!!!I am laughing so hard!
    You are an ace writer girly–thank you for putting into words such warm and wonderful thoughts–that we had all felt, but would never say them so brilliantly as you.
    And you are beautiful even in your squishees.

  2. February 4, 2009 4:12 pm

    Great post Angela. I am right there with you. Funny, I get so excited to go to “school” and “church” meeting anymore because that is the only time I get to dress up!

  3. February 5, 2009 9:19 am

    Brilliant. Hope in a Jar. Yep. I have the tanning lotion too. Orange streaks? Yep. Short-easy-care-out-of-face-hair-cut? Yep.

    I remember looking up to you at Youth Group. You had cool clothes and cool hair.
    One time I had to borrow your clothes due to an imbarrasing moment in front of Seth.
    I was so excited to wear Angelas clothes to Youth. I was H-O-T !!
    😉
    But alas, now I get to dress like you every day! I wear slippers to the store (by accident) and sweats to the store. Christmas day I was wearing my pjs to do an emergency milk run and lo and behold there was my neighbor in her jammies, too!

    Oh yeah. Mom Jeans Rock!!

  4. angelamills permalink*
    February 6, 2009 8:38 am

    That is so hysterical, Joy! Cool hair? I have lots of pictures to prove you wrong! But it’s sweet to know you thought that.

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