Before and After

I used to be a curated work of art. 

Every day, I carefully monitored the image that was to go into the outdoors. I couldn't control how many/what type of dates I got, but dammit, I could make sure I looked fabulous in the meantime. 

It took lots of effort, and since I had few hobbies besides shopping I was game. I spent hours sifting through racks of discount clothing. I analyzed makeup options for weeks before selecting the right one. The shoes, oh, the shoes . . . 

I never realized how much of that depended on sleep. 

I've always been very attached to my bedtime. Always. I was never the carefree teenager who crawled into bed at 1 a.m. and snored until noon. It was 9:30 to bed, 5:30 to arise. Well, I didn't have to be out of bed by 5:30, but that's when I woke up, so I would snuggle in my cocoon until the alarm chirped. 

But now I'm a whole new person, baby. Gone is my chic wardrobe because (a) whatever I put on gets covered in yogurt or snot in five minutes and (b) it doesn't fit.

In order to monitor my weight to ideal parameters, I need sleep to have the energy to make the few vegetables my stomach still tolerates instead of relying on quicky meals of string cheese and brown rice cakes. 

I have at times, quite literally, nothing to wear, and I no longer have the time or energy to spend another 1,000 hours culling through sales racks to find another wardrobe. I stick to two denim skirts that still fit and a few comfortable dresses that are not remotely chic in any way. I try to style them as best I can, but I am all too aware of the contrast. 

But . . . this is what mommies look like. This is how mommies operate. This is what I was hoping for, sleep deprivation and hot-mess-keit. OK, no one wishes to be sleep deprived but it's a side effect of marriage and kids. Along with bills and making Shabbos and laundry and finding a good electrician. 

My friend, so much younger than I but in the same place in life, laughs with me at how glamorous we used to be. Oh, we both try, but we know the before and after have quite a difference. My other friend, who also married "later," laughs at the same situation. 

So I if I crawl out of bed early enough, I can manage Five Minute Face (I'm so glad that masks aren't mandated everywhere anymore so I can apply some lipstick) and a garment that is only slightly stained. 

And one day, one day, my time with grubby handed infants will pass, and I might even miss that era. Then I'll possibly be able to shop and style once again. 

So my former glamazon is merely . . . going on hiatus.