Miss Trendy and the Beast
I have always been drawn to fashion, makeup and hair. All I wanted when I was 3 years old was one of those Barbie heads with the hair that you could brush, put rollers in and the plastic makeup you could apply. Then I became a teenager, regularly read Bazaar and lived for the huge Vogue style edition that was only released once a year. I may, or may not, have had a binder that I would keep magazine clippings of outfits that I wanted for the season. I also may, or may not, have referred to that supposed binder before I would go school shopping so I could try to find 'look like's' for much, much, much, much, much ... cheaper. All this to say, that I have always appreciated having a sense of style. Lately, however...
After having a baby I ran into a girl that I met when I first moved to Atlanta. She is quite a bit younger than me but I never noticed it when I was single and childless. We seemed almost like peers. Well, she graduated from a design school, moved to New York and had come home for a visit. When I saw her I realized how far my old fashionable self had moved. This girl, no, woman, was vibrant, trendy and very New York, which is one of my favorite places on earth. She lived in Harlem and .... I don't really remember anything else she said. I was lost in my own self pity, doubt and disappointment. I think my hair was in some sort of top knot. I was wearing a maternity bra because I was nursing my then three or four month old infant. I had on a baggy top because you need to have quick and easy access, a maxi skirt, which is like wearing yoga pants, and flats (people look at you sideways when you wear heels while carrying a wee baby. Plus my feet were so swollen I think the flats were a necessity) Anyway, I was mortified and jealous. Her life sounded so amazing, from the Charlie Brown wah wah's that I was hearing and then the dreaded "So, how have YOU been?" My heart sank even further. I tried to sound relevant. "Oh I got married and we have a baby now." But, all it really was, was sad. At least that was how I felt.
Now, my hormones have evened out. I have a beautiful, kind, energetic, three year old and an amazing hubster. Has my style changed? Somewhat. Now that I am working again I get dressed up a bit more. I have more time to myself to actually shower and shampoo my hair lately. I am in the process of getting to know this latest me. She is a bit heavier (working on that. not desperately, but working on it), she has waaaaay less time and she has more responsibilities than the version that was in her twenties. My style is slowly returning in a new way. I still wear top knots, maxi skirts and flats occasionally. However, those things have become more of a choice and not a perceived, forced uniform. Three years seems like a long time to be lost within my own skin and yet, when I look at my little one, it seems like seconds. I needed time. Time to accept change. Time to accept the present me. I am happy to say that thus far, I like her.