|I may or may not have cleavage in this picture|
When I was younger I was pretty much flat chested, and when I say “younger” I mean two years ago. I was always hoping to magically grow breasts and look like a slightly awkward version of Marilyn Monroe only brunette and with a much less glamorous wardrobe. I didn’t think it would ever actually happen, but then one day it did. Sort of.
Ever since Tiny-Small was born I have had increased cleavage ability. I mean, with the right amount of support and the right dress, and maybe a little duct tape I could pull it off. The problem is, now that I actually have cleavage, I am completely afraid to use it. I’m a mom now. I’m ridiculously conscious of dressing modestly and I wear all of my clothes like a trash bag two sizes too big. I cover up everything even my face half the time. Hello, sun hats, mu mu’s and Jim’s cast off shirts buttoned up to my neck. It’s sad really. I think I may have been mistaken for a nun a few times.
I was recently admiring the photos of one of my friends on facebook. She is truly one of the only “hot moms” I know in real life. She lives in Mexico, near the beach, in a resort town. She is blond, thin, and beautiful. She wears clothes that show off her cleavage and her legs on a daily basis. She doesn’t seem to have any of the hang-ups about her body that I do. Or, about being a mom, or about her hair, or about what people think. She looks happy and gorgeous even when she is taking her daughter to a doctor’s appointment. She’s not one of those people that spends hours on her hair and make up either. It’s pretty effortless beauty, although, I am pretty sure she gets a lot of exercise, sleep and healthy food to eat. I think she has lots of extended family around to help out which I envy a little bit too. I’m really proud of the way she has handled motherhood and when I look in the mirror I wonder what the heck am I doing wrong?
|My stylist thinks this is curly|
I spent two hours in the hair salon a few days ago and asked the stylist for a hair style that was “wash and go” and that would “maximize my curls” so life would be simple, but I could still look like a movie star. She looked a little skeptical but promised to do the best she could. I soon discovered that to a hair stylist “curly” means straight with a little flip and “easy” means it only takes 45-85 minutes to style your hair.
|Me at the salon|
I also realized that if I was going to choose a body part to flaunt, it probably wasn’t going to be my legs. I mean, does anything scream schoolmarm or dowdy house wife like those legs above? Yeah, I didn’t think so. This leaves me with one option: cleavage (because nobody really flaunts any other body parts). I’m going to have to get past my fear of being immodest and start embracing some contemporary clothing styles or else I am going to become completely irrelevant. I mean, I spent at least an hour looking at celebrity magazines while I was at the hair salon and I barely recognized any of the stars. I’m really starting to become void of culture, well, pop culture at least.
I’m like a mom with a helmet of curls and no sex appeal what so ever. I’m not even a good conversationalist either because I am completely unaware of what is cool or popular. I can talk about the news or maybe my favorite brand of diaper, but after that I’m just kind of lost. I’m the person that just downloaded Angry Birds two months ago and won’t start playing Draw Something until the craze is over. I could watch more TV, but somehow trying to look cute seems a little easier than watching Jersey Shore marathons or learning the names of all of the twenty-something movie stars out there (I can’t even tell them apart anymore anyway. They all look the same to me).
|What my hair looks like when left to it’s own devices|
When I was in high school I asked my friend if I had a big nose. She paused for a while and then said, “Well, all of your features are big: Like your eyes, mouth, and hair. So, your nose fits in perfectly.” I am sure she meant it as a compliment or at least as some sort of comfort, but it was high school so probably not. I was reminded of this recently when someone said I reminded them of a bush baby. Of course I said, “Are you trying to say I am clingy?” And they said, “No. It’s your big eyes.” So, I guess if you weren’t a “hot mama” before you had a baby you probably aren’t going to be a “hot mom” after either. I’m thinking that with a little effort, some duct tape, and the right foundation garment I might be able to use my new found cleavage to distract people from my bush baby eyes. One can only hope!