Are are you just too busy to care?
Over the weekend, my friends and I decided to gear up for an evening on the
town. Tween Girl Supreme is gone for the duration of her summer break, spending
time in Brooklyn and Miami with her father’s side of the family. So I’m left to
try to remember what it is I used to do when I was, for that brief period of
life, childless and fancy-free. I go through this every time she goes away —
maybe twice a year — but my homies had a plan to get me out of the house.
I’m 99 percent sure our crazy selves would’ve made the most of the night even if the lounge alone wasn’t hitting on much. That’s just how we are. The process of getting ready is the deterrent. Trying on outfits, turning every which way to analyze body parts at different angles, trying to achieve some semblance of seductiveness? That’s the part of the going-out routine I hate. It makes me wonder: has motherhood made me unsexy?
That, of course, implies that I was ever sexy in the first place.
It’s certainly not a question every woman grapples with. I see mamas who ooze natural come hither-ness and they’ve got a gaggle of kids in their cart at the grocery store or a minivan full when they pull up to dance practice. I slap those ladies a mental high five and give them kudos for stirring up their inner hotness. But, more often than that, I spot moms who have clearly given up on any attempts to be even remotely stylish, let alone sexy.
We all have days where it’s all we can do to brush our teeth and whisk our hair up in a ponytail. Maybe the gal in question is out on an errand-running mission. Maybe she has the flu. Maybe she’s got a few hours to herself before her children come home and she’ll be darned if she wastes precious moments primping and fluffing in front of the mirror. Those are all relatable excuses.
But then there are the chicks who seem to be hellbent on breaking the unwritten Guinness Book record for longest streak in sweatpants and Crocs. The closest things to beauty products that have touched their faces are Chapstick and Dove, and everything in their wardrobes screams functionality over femininity. I see them in Wal-mart and Target all the time.
Every once in a while, especially when it’s cold outside, I’m in full freelance-writer-on-deadline, bare-minimum-maintenance mode and I have zero incentive to even lift a wand of mascara, I’ll find myself becoming that mom. Sweatpants are addictive, I don’t care what anybody says. So after two or three days in them — interspersed with a few wears of leggings, which are my other go-to fave — I have to forcibly peel myself out of them or risk being sucked into that abyss of perpetual frumpiness.
I might not be the hottest mom on the PTA committee (and I’m not, thanks to a cleavage-flashing lady who seems to be the one to always collect funds at every event), but I think I balance the hectic responsibilities of motherhood with a fairly stylish and sustained look. My thing is learning how to tap into my sexiness. It’s there (I think). I just have to know how to work it.
The Man is trying to convince me that I have it going on naturally. It’s what attracted him to me, he insists, even across the miles through my Facebook pics. He admits to stalking my photos and he must not be lying, because he can rattle off a list of his favorite outfits and poses in pictures even I forgot that I took and posted. I’m glad that something drew him in, of course. I just wish I could tap into it myself when I’m getting ready to hit the town with the girls.
So this weekend, we’re giving it another go. I’ll spend oodles of time in front of the mirror, I’m sure, trying to work up my inner sexy. If I keep this up from now until the time my child gets home at the end of the month, I may actually find it.
Do you feel more or less sexy since you had your kids?