That Girl I Used to Be

I found this little baby doll at Walmart the other day.

I bought it for my kids and told them it's name is "Mommy".

Seriously, folks, TRY ME.

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I used to have some style. I think. I mean, it is possible that "crazy redhead" was my style, and even that part of me has become pretty nondescript.

I wasn't the kind of girl who liked to look overdone, but I used to spend a lot on myself.


Time, money, attention, you got it, I just really liked make up and hair and clothes and accessories and SHOES. OH DID I LOVE SHOES. I did my own nails, I had "home spa" days all the time. I had a killer closet filled with stuff I could play dress up in, and also an rack of shorty short skirts and funky tees and tanks and lots of earrings and beady things I wore every day. AND DIDN'T FALL OUT OF

I was funky and original and fun. And cute. And except for an episode or two in my 20's, a wee bit smaller and lighter.


When I found out I was pregnant with Madee, I stopped coloring my hair. I just went all hippie and chemical free, and by the time I had Eden, it was all natch.

Don't get me wrong, my hair color is pretty. (especially the grays:)) I get polite compliments on it all the time, but not the kind of compliments I used to get.

I get, "You look good" as in, "considering your circumstances", and it makes me miss the days that random black guys would turn and say rude stuff to me when I walked by.

When I found out I was pregnant with Eden, I sent all my cute surfer chic teeny skirt little t-shirt clothes to my sisters. Because they were still in college and in Florida, and even still they are cute and teeny and surfer chic so it just made sense.

I had funky glasses and a sweet ass bike. I really miss my old bike. And my short skirts. They kinda went together.


I feel like living in Tahoe just really sucked the style out of me. It looks weird if you show up somewhere in make up unless you are the liquor promo girl. So, for a while, when I had that job, at least I could still get away with it.

But Jack Daniels didn't think the prego belly was good advertising, so that didn't last long either.

Who IS that girl, and WHERE DID SHE GO?

I mean, I don't want to dress single, or age inappropriate, or overly sexy, but I need some kind of groove back. I feel OLD. When I start getting ready for date night, it seems the more I try to put on make up or find something slightly hot to wear, the more discouraged I become.

I am too tired to be cute.

I don't want to look middle aged or worse - like I have a realtor haircut and need to start stuffing the excess cooter chub into Mom jeans.

Every time I get my hair cut, somebody effs it up - so I haven't had a trim since last JULY.

When I go shopping for new clothes, I just end up buying stuff for the girls, and I don't mean my boobs. Kids clothes are so cute and so easy to put together. THEY CAN PULL OFF ANYTHING.

I just stopped looking in the mirror, because I don't want to deal with it anymore.

Mama needs some BOO-YAH!

And although as I have been trying to peck this frustration with myself out of my head and onto a screen my kids have aged me 10 more years. The pulling, the whining, the messes they stamp my tired old yoga pants with, and TODAY I REVOLT.

I have claimed my own office space in the house.

I have picked up some new glasses.

And I think it is the start of a revolution, ya'll.

I am rousing the rabble. Starting some trouble. RECLAIMING SOME OF MY FUNK - (and I am not talking about the smell of baby poop and old milk.)

I am going to shock the crap out of my kids and Boom Boom. And myself.

Say goodbye to boring old me.

Wild hair? Meet my butt.

I might even rearrange more furniture up in here.