Ok, I admit it. I’m a tragic mum. I’m not overly stylish, I rarely look at myself in the mirror and I kind of don’t give any fucks about it at this point.
Don’t get me wrong I used to really care about the way that I looked, how I was perceived and was marginally less tragic. Although bebo might tell me otherwise. I would love to say that having 3 children has inspired me to be a milf, “get ma body back” and keep with the times but that would be a lie. To all you mumma’s who look amazing and are actually active in their active wear I commend you, I envy you and I hope that one day there will be time for me again. For now, I am actually at peace with the fact that this is me right now. So here goes… a couple of instances where I really let my tragic mum flag fly.
1) The children that I used to babysit are now telling me what is fashionable. Like are you serious?
2)My entire make-up collection can fit into a tiny little bag.
3)My two year old daughter gets into that make-up bag more than I do. Actually, I think the mascara she just smeared all over the mirror is older than her.
4)Everyone is talking a different language like highlight, contour, on fleek and I’m over here like “oh hey ya’ll is thin lizzy lip gloss still the goods?” *facepalm* FYI, save yourself from going for the ‘smokey eye’ look if you have dark mum bags under your eyes. Sultry? no, gang bash victim? possibly.
5)Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I go to the hairdressers!…Like that time on my wedding day…4 years ago…
6)I sometimes think maybe I should splash out, go see a professional, get some beauty shit done, let her get all up in my grill-you know the lady kind of business. But child free time is rarer than hen’s teeth around here! I mean my children came on an excursion with me to get a cervical smear. Afterwards 2 year old Evie came out into the waiting room with her dress above her head saying “me turn? me turn?”. It was then I decided that the education she now had on the female anatomy would suffice.
7)Going on from the child free time being rarer than a kiwi dairy owner. My single friend said to me the other day “I really feel like some down time, maybe a bit of a pamper day?”. “Shut the front door!” You know what I would love buddy ole’ pal? I would love to change my tampon without an audience. That would be brill!
8)The price of someone you know, dealing with the lady garden is crazy! “I’m sorry what, $60 for a wax, my god I can’t pay you $60 to look at my va-jay! I will do it myself and then charge my husband $60 to look at it!”
9)I have worn clip up maternity breastfeeding bras for 5 years straight. For a start, they are comfier than a pair of ‘crocs’ on a hot day. Unfortunately, they are just about as ugly as ‘crocs’. I have either been pregnant or breastfeeding for 5 consecutive years and I just cannot go back to the underwires just yet.
10)Going out is like a marathon and it takes 4 hours to get all the children sorted and ready and approximately 4 minutes to get yourself ready. I am slapping on some, what do you call this shit? concealer, with a baby attached to my boob and a two year old screaming “my do it, my do it!”. The husband is all sorted, even had time to clip his fucking toenails and the woman goes out like she has just escaped the mental health ward for a spot of sightseeing.
11)There is just no time to think about yourself. I went to work one day and someone was like “Oh hey your cardigan is on the wrong way” I don’t bat an eyelid, easy fix, silly sausage, what a rush I must of been in. I turn the bloody cardigan in the right way and its got a massive baby spew down the front of it. Like am I the only one up in here who is a hot mess? should I just put it in the wrong way and plead baby brain or wear it the right way and tell every second person the story of my terribly refluxy baby? No. No I think I will walk around in the middle of winter in a shirt and claim my Australian heritage.
All in all, I am a tragic mum and I have come to terms with the fact that the closest thing I will come to a spray tan is getting covered in ‘twisties’ crumbs, and you know what that’s kind of ok with me. ‘Twisties’ are delish.