...And I am pretty sure I am one of them.
Ten years ago I could slip into a ragged old pair of jeans and a t-shirt and feel pretty okay about myself - Now, well, not so much.
It starts out like this each morning: I emerge from the shower to a standing ovation (jealous, arent you?...don't be, my 2 year old hasn't yet realized that washing the stink off of you might not count as standing-ovation worthy work), and towel off. I take a moment to congratulate myself on creating fewer shaving cuts than yesterday, then don my standard "getting ready" outfit. There's something about loose fitting sweat shorts that make you feel skinny. More so if you happen to be having a "flat tummy" morning. On goes the husband's tshirt, and the construction work begins.. At this point I'm still feeling pretty good about myself, I'm drinking coffee, blow drying my hair - and so far, so good.
And then it happens... I walk into my closet and pull my favorite pair of slacks from the rack... Size 4, The Limited, trouser style slacks... How could I go wrong? Well, several ways - and I'm going to share those with you now...
Before my son, I wore a size 2. So one man-child = one pant size...not to bad, right?
RIGHT, if it were that simple, all would be right in my little world.... But alas...mother nature played a cruel joke upon me - and put me in a size 4 - with overflow. Now, I'm not going to sit here and complain that I am overweight, or too big, or feeling fluffy - so you can relax. I LIKE my curves. What I DON'T like is that my curves have taken it upon themselves to relocate to some VERY unflattering places. Size 2 is too small, Size 6 falls off, and size 4 gives me belly rolls.
Onward and upward.... the upper body I was once so proud of has betrayed me as well. Sure...everything looks fantastic...until you put on your bra... You latch it, hook it, and adjust it - everything feels GREAT. Then you look in the mirror and "Holy CRAP!, where did THAT come from?" Just when you think you've adjusted to your new belly roll, you are faced with the undeniable fact that you are also now the proud owner of bra-bulge.
I don't know about you, but I just find all of this a little demoralizing. It used to be that I felt GREAT once I got dressed...now all I want to do once I'm dressed is..well, get undressed.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sometimes....You just need to let yourself get old and cranky.
There are mornings I wake up already "done" for the day. Its a curious phenomenon, reaching the end of your fuse before anyone had time to light the match - and yet there you are, standing in your kitchen an hour after you should have left for work, wondering how in the H** you forgot to stop and get more coffee last night and wondering if there are little gremlins stealing diapers from your nursery.
I don't know if I have become less tolerant as I've gotten older, but one thing is for sure, I am no longer the care-free, come what may girl that I was ten years ago. Things, people, traffic and even music irritate me - and who can say if its just me or if things, people, traffic and music have actually become more annoying over time. Also, I find I don't have a lot of patience for ignorance, laziness, arrogance, or for outright meanness. I've learned to recognize the "dark clouds" and can even forecast their drama storms. (learning to hide from these people is also a great skill I've learned over the years) I don't pretend to appreciate unwanted / unwelcome advice, and I don't feel the need to show affection to people I don't particularly care for.
I feel liberated! I don't care what so-and-so says behind my back. Why should I? That she feels the need to put me down only proves she thinks her life sucks more than mine. I don't worry what judgments people make about me, my husband, our decisions or our relationship - I stay concerned on who we are and what we mean to each other. Similarly, the older Brandy understands that no one REALLY cares enough about your life to think about it any longer than it takes to make a snide comment and get some laughs.
The real joy in life, in my opinion, happens in the comfort of your own family while surrounded by people that love you no matter how your hair looks that day. Its the smiles and laughter that comes with toddler tickle fights and unexpected hugs that really keep the World of Lee spinning. Happiness is knowing that your handsome hunk of a husband looks just as haggard in the morning as you do, and that even though he knows you woke up looking like a frankenstein / anna nicole hybrid this morning, he still wants to love you tonight.
I'm ending this one abruptly, but I think you get the point. I don't really want to be cranky, like everyone else - I just want to be happy being me. I want you to be happy being you. I want get through life without sweating too much of the small stuff and end up old and wrinkly with the man that I love. And you know what, since I cannot imagine anything better - I wish the same for you! (Except you know, find your own man. Mine's taken.)
I don't know if I have become less tolerant as I've gotten older, but one thing is for sure, I am no longer the care-free, come what may girl that I was ten years ago. Things, people, traffic and even music irritate me - and who can say if its just me or if things, people, traffic and music have actually become more annoying over time. Also, I find I don't have a lot of patience for ignorance, laziness, arrogance, or for outright meanness. I've learned to recognize the "dark clouds" and can even forecast their drama storms. (learning to hide from these people is also a great skill I've learned over the years) I don't pretend to appreciate unwanted / unwelcome advice, and I don't feel the need to show affection to people I don't particularly care for.
I feel liberated! I don't care what so-and-so says behind my back. Why should I? That she feels the need to put me down only proves she thinks her life sucks more than mine. I don't worry what judgments people make about me, my husband, our decisions or our relationship - I stay concerned on who we are and what we mean to each other. Similarly, the older Brandy understands that no one REALLY cares enough about your life to think about it any longer than it takes to make a snide comment and get some laughs.
The real joy in life, in my opinion, happens in the comfort of your own family while surrounded by people that love you no matter how your hair looks that day. Its the smiles and laughter that comes with toddler tickle fights and unexpected hugs that really keep the World of Lee spinning. Happiness is knowing that your handsome hunk of a husband looks just as haggard in the morning as you do, and that even though he knows you woke up looking like a frankenstein / anna nicole hybrid this morning, he still wants to love you tonight.
I'm ending this one abruptly, but I think you get the point. I don't really want to be cranky, like everyone else - I just want to be happy being me. I want you to be happy being you. I want get through life without sweating too much of the small stuff and end up old and wrinkly with the man that I love. And you know what, since I cannot imagine anything better - I wish the same for you! (Except you know, find your own man. Mine's taken.)
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