I love makeover shows. What Not to Wear is one of my favorites – especially the more recent seasons because Stacy and Clinton seemed to have toned down their harsh comments and are a lot kinder and more understanding. I’m always amazed at how new clothes, hair and makeup can completely transform a person. Women who seemed frumpy, dowdy and meh were reborn sophisticated, trendy, and funky. Sometimes, all it took was for the woman to see her outside change – and that would have an immediate effect on how she felt about herself. It’s beautiful and always makes me feel so warm and fuzzy.

For at least the first eight months after I had DS, I dressed so frumpy. All I wanted were clothes that made it easy to breastfeed and that usually did not mesh with fashion-forward fare. The last thing I wanted to do was put on makeup – DS would grab my face, I would cuddle close to him – and I really didn’t want any of it to rub off either on his clothing or him! Finally, near the end of the first year, I broke down and bought some new jeans and tops. They weren’t super cool or anything and definitely on the more casual end of fashion, but I certainly started to feel less schlumpy. I used to marvel at the moms who just let themselves go – but having been through it, you know what? It’s SO EASY.

The last thing on my mind after I popped out DS (or rather, the doctors sliced me open and tugged him out of me), and having my breasts go from sexual objects to milk bags, was on how I looked. I was lucky if I got out of my pajamas sometime during the day. Shoot, I’m still lucky if that happens! I’m amazed if I remember to brush my teeth in the morning – you want me to put on an outfit with accessories and cute things? Why bother if I’m just going to be covered in snot, food, and drool? Why would I want to ruin my nicer clothes? And so, I wear the same outfit over and over again until the crust becomes too disgusting.

Lately, though, I’ve been thinking that every now and then, I might put on a little make up. There’s something about having an even complexion and some blush and more defined eyebrows that just makes me feel a little more confident and less gaunt and sallow and sad. We’re all for less sad, yes? It’s somewhat of an effort, after all, DS doesn’t particularly care for me not paying attention to him – even if it is for the five minutes it takes for me to put on some makeup. But you know, it might be worth it. Not that I’m trying to impress anyone. (And what would be wrong if I were?) But for me. It might be nice. đŸ™‚

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