I wake up every morning and expect to see me in the mirror...you know, the me that has radiant, youthful skin. The me that has shiny, healthy hair. The me that has a tight 20-something body (who didn't appreciate it when I was 20-something and thought that even then my body was far from ideal), who looks great in all of my clothes. The me that doesn't have dark circles under my eyes and a perfect pedicure.
But, that's not what I see. I see me...the 35 year old mom of twins me. The me whose hair, even when flatironed, still looks vaguely frizzy. The me who always looks tired. The me who would be embarrassed to wear open-toed shoes because my pedicure is so very grown out. The me whose body is unrecognizable, who still looks 3 months pregnant most days...but hasn't been pregnant in over 14 months. The me who has to put on 2-3 outfits in the morning before I find one that makes me look like the me in my head...at least a little bit.
Honestly, I look at myself in the mirror and I get sad. If you were to look at me, I'm sure you wouldn't see what I see. You probably would think that I really don't look that much different than I did before I became a mom, and you probably would tell me that I'm lucky that I look the way I do for being a mom of twins. Rationally, I get that.
But, emotionally? Not so much. I look in the mirror and I literally think to myself, "Remember when I used to be beautiful?" I have voiced these words to my husband before--and, typically, he just looks at me like I'm crazy when I say this.
I think this is the problem with our society...or maybe just with me. Our standard of beauty is impossible to meet. Unless I quit my job, hired a full-time personal trainer, and didn't eat anything remotely sinful, I will never look like my 20-something self again. And, again, rationally, I know that. But, I can't wrap my head around it.
I'm a big proponent of aging gracefully--and I don't mind being 35. I certainly wouldn't want to be in my teens again, and I'm only vaguely wistful for my 20s, and only when I'm really missing my friends or sleeping late. The few grey hairs I have are badges of honor (unless my husband gets to them, and then he pulls them out of my head and they become garbage)--reminders that I have lived a full life so far, a life worth living. I love my little imperfections--like my strawberry birthmark on my stomach, or the mole on my chin--they are what make me unique. I don't have wrinkles, and I think I still look good for my age...I just don't feel like I look like me.
I love my c-section scar. That incision made me a mom. I wouldn't trade that for the world. But, I hate what my body looks like now. I used to have a waist...now I have a vague idea of where my waist used to be. I never had a muffin top before. Now, I could run a bakery with the amount of muffin top I have. I have a hard time recognizing that maybe I need to buy a different size pants.
I don't write this for sympathy. I don't write this because I want you to say "You look great!" I write this because I want all of you out there who look in the mirror and think "Remember when I was beautiful?" to know you're not alone. I want to be reminded (and remember) that I'm still beautiful--I'm just not in my 20s anymore, and that's ok. Like I said, I like being in my 30s. I write this because I need to remember that my body looks the way it does because I grew two miracles--who make me laugh every day and who I wouldn't trade for anything. It's an honor to look the way I do--I earned this body through months of hard work growing two amazing little people.
I write this because I needed to. I hope that by getting these words down I can look in the mirror and think "I'm still beautiful"...and truly mean it.
Questions? Comments? Ideas? Email us at theaccessorizedlife@gmail.com
But, that's not what I see. I see me...the 35 year old mom of twins me. The me whose hair, even when flatironed, still looks vaguely frizzy. The me who always looks tired. The me who would be embarrassed to wear open-toed shoes because my pedicure is so very grown out. The me whose body is unrecognizable, who still looks 3 months pregnant most days...but hasn't been pregnant in over 14 months. The me who has to put on 2-3 outfits in the morning before I find one that makes me look like the me in my head...at least a little bit.
Honestly, I look at myself in the mirror and I get sad. If you were to look at me, I'm sure you wouldn't see what I see. You probably would think that I really don't look that much different than I did before I became a mom, and you probably would tell me that I'm lucky that I look the way I do for being a mom of twins. Rationally, I get that.
But, emotionally? Not so much. I look in the mirror and I literally think to myself, "Remember when I used to be beautiful?" I have voiced these words to my husband before--and, typically, he just looks at me like I'm crazy when I say this.
I think this is the problem with our society...or maybe just with me. Our standard of beauty is impossible to meet. Unless I quit my job, hired a full-time personal trainer, and didn't eat anything remotely sinful, I will never look like my 20-something self again. And, again, rationally, I know that. But, I can't wrap my head around it.
I'm a big proponent of aging gracefully--and I don't mind being 35. I certainly wouldn't want to be in my teens again, and I'm only vaguely wistful for my 20s, and only when I'm really missing my friends or sleeping late. The few grey hairs I have are badges of honor (unless my husband gets to them, and then he pulls them out of my head and they become garbage)--reminders that I have lived a full life so far, a life worth living. I love my little imperfections--like my strawberry birthmark on my stomach, or the mole on my chin--they are what make me unique. I don't have wrinkles, and I think I still look good for my age...I just don't feel like I look like me.
I love my c-section scar. That incision made me a mom. I wouldn't trade that for the world. But, I hate what my body looks like now. I used to have a waist...now I have a vague idea of where my waist used to be. I never had a muffin top before. Now, I could run a bakery with the amount of muffin top I have. I have a hard time recognizing that maybe I need to buy a different size pants.
I don't write this for sympathy. I don't write this because I want you to say "You look great!" I write this because I want all of you out there who look in the mirror and think "Remember when I was beautiful?" to know you're not alone. I want to be reminded (and remember) that I'm still beautiful--I'm just not in my 20s anymore, and that's ok. Like I said, I like being in my 30s. I write this because I need to remember that my body looks the way it does because I grew two miracles--who make me laugh every day and who I wouldn't trade for anything. It's an honor to look the way I do--I earned this body through months of hard work growing two amazing little people.
I write this because I needed to. I hope that by getting these words down I can look in the mirror and think "I'm still beautiful"...and truly mean it.
Questions? Comments? Ideas? Email us at theaccessorizedlife@gmail.com
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