Mess

Lately, I’m kind of a mess. Sure, I have a pretty good reason (two of them in fact) for the ponytail in my hair and the boogers on my sweater. But my, well, let's be nice and say "disheveled" appearance, is not exactly something I’m proud of. Now honestly, even in my pre-baby life, no one would have dared call me a fashionista, but still, showing up at work in a stained purple sweatshirt and a ponytail is a new low even for me (in my small defense, it was a casual Friday).

I fear I’ve become a cliché, the woman that “let herself go” now that she has kids. Except it would be one thing if I wore sweatshirts and ponytails because I only left the house to go to the grocery store, but no, I still go to an office most days. An office where a hundred other women prance around in their high heels and scandalously short but super cute dresses. Even if I did have the cash (and the fashion sense) to buy those clothes, it just looks like it takes so much effort. And all of the energy I have to spend on getting dressed has to be distributed between three people now.

I'm never gonna be one of those super-polished women. I envied them in college, and I envy them now but it's just not who I am. That being said, I’m pretty sure this isn't who I am either.

I'm not exactly sure what to do about this. And I'm a little scared to confess my insecurity so publicly. But there it is. I'm a mess. And just as soon as this pink eye clears up, I plan to do something about it.