What Not To Wear

I hope I'm not shattering any illusions out there, but sometimes being a mom can be quite...um, what can I say to soften the truth...less than glamorous, shall we say?

Unglamorous. Yes, I like that, let’s run with that one. Let me illustrate what I mean with a delightful anecdote from what should have been a very uneventful outing. I just finished dropping off my daughter at dance class, and although I'm freshly showered and smell like the tropics, I'm hiding out in my car, too embarrassed to step out into the light of day.

Mind you, I didn't set out to look this way, but sadly, the end result of the matter is that I look like "that mom"; you know, the one that everyone looks upon with pity and concludes: "Poor thing, she's given up on life."

I have no one to blame but myself. It all started when I lingered in the shower a little bit longer than I should have and then had to throw on the first thing I could find to avoid making my daughter late. Ironically, I was initially rather impressed with myself.

My selection consisted of my favorite black yoga pants (they're stretchy, as all pants should be), a black turtleneck (can't go wrong with a classic), and some shimmery ballet flats (for that touch of sparkle). I threw my damp, tangled mess of curls into a bun and convinced myself that I had really pulled it together at the last minute and was feeling quite confident. After all, my outfit was slimming, smart, and dare I say, sexy? Ok, no—I agree—maybe that last one was a stretch, alright, I’ll admit it…a far stretch, I mean, how sexy can a black turtleneck really be?

Anyway, my delusion began unraveling almost instantly as I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the front hallway mirror and realized, with only seconds to race towards the car to get to dance class on time, that my shirt was on backwards! The downward spiral escalated quickly...as I started driving off, I looked down and noticed a large, peculiar stain smeared just above my knees that corresponds to the exact height of my son's nose. I never imagined that, one day, I would become a human tissue (sigh).

Now, I know that saliva just doesn't equal the stain-fighting power of Tide, but, like any other desperate person would do in the same situation, I abandoned reason and desperately proceeded to spit-groom my pants. It wasn't working, so, having lost sight of logic and venturing into the dark side of panic, I concluded I just wasn't using enough spit and aggressively stepped-up my efforts. Looking back, that was not my proudest moment.

As I continued the attempt to save my pants while driving, I caught another glimpse of myself in the rearview and, this time, discovered that my eyebrows have been secretly plotting a merger and are dangerously close to forming a uni-brow.

Ugh! How did I let this happen? In the back of my head, I could hear my best friend's words from a recent conversation condemning me..."Let's vow never to leave the house looking like that!"

Needless to say, my plans to stop at the local coffeehouse while my daughter wraps up dance class have been indefinitely postponed. I don't dare venture out beyond the safety of my tinted windows. I have a knack for always running into someone I know on those very rare moments when I look...well...unglamorous.