I have made a decision.
I have decided that its time for shit to get real and get my “hotness” back. I have just faced the harsh reality that I have fallen into the dreaded “Mom” category where my go to outfit is yoga pants and a sweatshirt and I don’t even do yoga. My wardrobe has gone down hill, to say the least. I shop at target for everything including underwear. TMI, I know, but I feel like you need to understand the magnitude of the situation. I haven’t stepped foot in a Victorias Secret since I was pregnant with our child and I only went because I was forced to buy new bras. He is four now. FOUR. I think you get the picture, I have gotten complacent and honestly just stopped caring. The only time I dress up is when I have an actual event where I know I will be photographed. Facebook and Instagram are my only motivation these days and that is just plain sad.
I used to have it all together. I used to be hot or shall I say, as hot as I can be. Matching outfits, hair done, full make up, mani/pedi, the whole shebang. I even matched my purse with my outfit. Now changing my purse seems like such a daunting task and who needs to match their purse to athletic wear anyway? I should probably just switch to a fanny pack and call it a day.
My first wake up call came when I went to put on makeup the Sunday after we got back from Boston and had to retrieve it from my suitcase. We got back on Tuesday. To spell it out for you, I had not worn make up since Tuesday. I also hadn’t unpacked my entire bag but thats another story.
I will have to say though, that my biggest “A ha” moment came the the other day my son called me into his play room to show me a family portrait he had drawn of us. My husband said that little Carlos was getting very frustrated because he didn’t know how to draw the circle on my head. My husband asked if I had any idea what he was talking about. I started to think that he must mean a Halo because that is really all that makes sense with how sweet I am and all of the super powers I possess. So I showed him how to draw a Halo on my head. He said, “No Mommy, this,” and he pointed to the back of my head.
He was trying to draw my bun.
SHOOT ME NOW.
To him, my bun was just as essential as a mouth and a nose, it was part of me. That was my come to Jesus.
I had hit rock bottom and knew it was time to make a complete transformation or at least let my son know that I do, in fact, have beautiful long, blonde hair.
In a strange coincidence, the same day my girlfriend called me frantically and asked if she could drop her child off to make it to an emergency botox appointment. Of course, I obliged, because to me, that is considered an emergency. She said she was fed up with looking her age and her husband being more interested in the football game than her and that we needed a plan ASAP. God was telling us both something. It was crunch time. No more looking homeless and being Ok with it. No more just “getting by” with our slacker wardrobe. I agreed and we made a pact right then and there, to get “hot” again.
But here I am, on Tuesday morning, with no make up on with my hair in a bun. I needed one last day to say goodbye. One sweet, long goodbye. So tomorrow is my day. Tomorrow is when the “Mom” goes out the door and the “MILF” comes in. If you see me with no make up on and a bun and I’m not headed to the gym, you have free reign to smack me. I will not hold it against you.