So today Sage and I went to the mall because I needed a dress. I've been invited to an event, and by that I mean I'm going somewhere without kids to a thing where people will be meeting me for the first time.
I do not need them to know I usually walk around in "comfortable" clothes which, more often than not, have some sort of food item or snot on them, courtesy of one Small Child or another. Or that I rarely wear makeup and it's been so long that I wore anything pretty I wouldn't recognize it if it walked up and slapped me across the face.
(Oh, Clinton and Stacy. I love them. But they would SURELY knock me upside the head if they saw the yoga pants/Uggs/fleece getup I often wear to walk Sawyer to school.).
I want to look like a grownup. A stylishly dressed grownup. For a change.
Sage was very happy to pick out a few things for me to try on at Nordstrom. And then the saleswoman brought a few more.
Now, my shape is not what it was when I got pregnant, when I'd just run a marathon. Having three kids in five years isn't so kind to the body. X's pregnancy gave me a wonderful parting gift: back fat.
But I've been working out. I'm within a few pounds of my pre-pregnancy weight, if not the fitness level.
That's why I'm going to share with you a little tip, and believe me when I say that you will thank me for this: When you start feeling that maybe you will recover, that you don't look completely awful, that you may actually be able to get back into that bikini again someday, DO NOT get in a dressing room with a 4 year-old.
The mirrors and florescent lighting are bad enough.
We're in there, Sage and I and a hopeful pile of dresses, and I start pulling off my tee shirt. Sage's eyes got HUGE.
Mommy! You're going to take off your clothes? I can see your boobers!
Well, yes, I have to try on the dresses.
Are you going to take off your underwear?
I can see your private parts! Okay, well I can't see them. But maybe a little bit.
Then don't look. It's private.
Mommy? Why is your butt sticking out from your underwear? I mean, your underwear is kind of in the middle and I can see your butt. It's sticking out.
Sage then proceeded to walk behind me and pat me on the rear end.
She was having fun. This is the same girl who, while watching me run on the treadmill last week, said "Mommy! Your butt is bouncing up and down when you run!"
I lacked the energy to corner her in that tiny dressing room today and yell SEE THIS MESS?? IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR BROTHERS!! I didn't even warn her that someday when SHE has babies, she has this flabalanche to look forward to.
I didn't want to scare her. Because she'd just seen half my ass. And THAT is frightening enough.
By the way, I bought a dress. And wouldn't you know, it's one Sage picked out.