Deatra’s bitstrip
When I got married 10 years ago, I moved from New York City to a rural little upstate village where a livestock feed store is the main attraction. I brought with me my nearly life-long fashion sensibility and tried, in vain, to keep rocking my 3-inch stilettos, wedge heels and tight jeans. I hobbled along, even in the grocery store, where I ignored the sidelong glances from women dressed in (what looked like to me) pajama bottoms and shoes I’d wear as slippers.
And then I got pregnant. And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I stopped holding in my stomach and discovered the mind-blowing comfort of elastic-waist pants. Part of the reason I loved being pregnant, besides the absolute joy of growing my daughter, was being able to wear whatever I wanted and not caring one single bit about my protruding belly. I put away my high-heeled shoes and strutted around in slides and flip flops. I wore my husband’s old button-down shirts and t-shirts and happily tossed on grandpa cardigans when I was chilly. I never felt freer or more comfortable in my life – it was glorious.
After I gave birth, I spent a couple of years in fashion no-man’s land. Because I breastfed, I lost the baby weight fairly quickly but just couldn’t go back to squeezing into uncomfortable clothes. The old fashionista in me found it difficult to buy non-maternity elastic waist pants – the horror! So I did what most of us do, I kept wearing my maternity pants (and will never admit for how long), found some flattering stretchy jeggings (denim leggings), loose tunic tops and shoes I could get in and out of easily — clogs, slides, and yes, I’ll admit it … UGGs.
I’ve also always been fairly good about skincare, hair care and makeup. Back in my New York City days, I kept my hair a little past shoulder-length and had the luxury of wearing it curly or straight, depending on my mood. I got regular trims and occasionally, a funky color just for the fun of it. I also loved makeup and could easily spend an hour in Sephora swatching lipsticks in search of the perfect shade of pink. In my old life, I enjoyed being a little chic and glamorous and it was definitely more pleasure than Herculean effort.
Around the time my daughter entered kindergarten, I started a terrible habit of throwing on yoga pants and a t-shirt or sweatshirt, pulling my hair back, covering half my face with a pair of sunglasses and jumping in the car to drive her to school. (And yes, I’m brave enough to admit there were times I didn’t even take off my nightgown – I shoved it in my pants, threw a warm-up jacket over it and hoped there wouldn’t be a reason for me to get out of the car.) Because I work at home, I’d wear this schlubby outfit all day, including when I picked her up seven hours later.
And then one day, a couple of months ago, I was hanging out in the backyard with my daughter when one of my neighbors sauntered by and stopped to say hello. She is that peculiar breed of woman who seems blessed with the very fortunate combination of great genes and a good work ethic. She walks regularly to keep herself in shape; her hair almost always looks nice, even if it’s pulled back in a ponytail because somehow it’s a chic ponytail; her clothes seem tailor for her body and miraculously, she always seems to have a fresh manicure and pedicure. And here’s the thing: she has two kids AND she works fulltime. If she wasn’t so nice, I might hate her.
On this particular day, I had taken frumpy to a new level: I was wearing my husband’s huge old law school sweat shirt that makes me look bigger than I actually am; my hair was a mess, my face was bare and my yoga pants had butter stains on them from my daughter’s breakfast that morning. I felt awful standing there talking to her — not because she was judging me but because I was letting myself down. I didn’t hear most of what she said because I was having an epiphany that I had truly let myself go and that I was tired of it.
It’s hard enough being a mid-life mom – I struggle against being (and feeling like) the oldest mom on the playground or having a really painful conversation with the mom of one of my daughter’s friends who is all of 28 or forcing myself to never think about the truth that technically, I could be my daughter’s grandmother. But none of that means I have to let myself go. If anything, taking care of myself only reinforces my sense of wisdom and experience and feeling comfortable with who I am. And for me, that means knowing I’ve put energy into presenting my best self.
So ever since that day in the backyard, I’ve been making a real effort to get myself together and discovered it doesn’t take as much work as I expected. I feel much more confident and like a capable woman again rather than a frumpy, work-at-home mom who couldn’t care less.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
- When it comes to clothes, fit makes all the difference so it’s worth taking a trip to the mall, heading to a few favorite stores and spending a couple of hours just trying stuff on. I made the mistake of thinking I could order things online and while it’s convenient, I started to feel like I needed to offer the UPS guy coffee and a snack because he was at my house every day either delivering a package or picking one up for a return. So while it’s time-consuming to try things on at an actual store, it’s a lot more efficient. Even if I wind up with just one great top or pair of pants that fit and make me feel fabulous, it’s worth it. And that’s the key – if it’s not perfect, don’t buy it.
- It helps to go shopping with a list or at least a pretty clear idea of what you want to look for. Think about your lifestyle and what kind of clothes work best for you. Because I work from home, I can (and do!) dress casually; I recently discovered the joy of ponte pants. They’re incredibly comfortable but stylish and always make me look pulled together. And because my stomach is my problem area, I love a pretty tunic or longer top that conceals and shows off my toned legs, which are my best feature. If you know what works, you’ll know what to look for when you shop.
- Take better care of your clothes and shoes. I don’t iron (and probably never will) and don’t buy things that require dry cleaning but I treat stains before doing laundry and toss items that have been around too long. Faded and worn clothes just don’t look nice. Same thing is true for shoes. Dirty, old sneakers, run down heels, and scuff marks are just evidence of laziness. If you can’t fix something, toss and replace it.
- I’m also paying more attention to grooming. I’m not a morning person so I’d rather sleep than wake up 15 minutes earlier to do my hair and tell myself it’s okay to throw it into a ponytail. And sometimes that’s true. But I really do feel better when I’ve spent a little time getting my hair together. I feel sexier, prettier, and more approachable. Same is true for putting on makeup.
Of course all of this depends on what’s important to you, your lifestyle and what you want to invest time in. But think about how you feel when you meet a woman who seems pulled together and has put energy into taking care of herself. It’s not about “beauty” or “attractiveness” but really a reflection of how you feel about yourself.
I love being a mother and my daughter is deeply important to me, but for a long time it was easier to focus on her than take care of myself. Deciding it was time to change that has been liberating. I feel newly confident and like the very cool version of who I am as a mother, a wife and a woman. I will probably never again be the stylish fashionista who could jog a city mile in heels, but I do feel like a fresher, snappier and confident version of my old self. It’s exciting, and the more I invest energy in putting my best foot forward, the more possible I feel.