checking in

Better friends wanted

“You look like you’ve really let go of trying to look nice now”. I think that was it. The exact wording escapes me, it’s all a blur. My brain must have blocked it out. It’s traumatic, being stabbed in the heart in the middle of a small local festival. I’m just out here trying to make it through the hour, you know?

While that hurt I feel like it was quite fair. I’m a shadow of my former always overdressed self. It’s been a challenge keeping up with crying over every single item that no longer fits me so I decided to stop. Instead, I’m going for a rebrand. From bohemian princess to tired mother of two, head to toe covered in athleisure. Might cut my hair short to complete the transformation.

Any playground mom group will accept me as one of their own now, that’s how approachable I look. Maybe I’ll have friends again. Maybe ones that don’t make stupid comments about appearance. We will have a special handshake consisting of shaking milk bottles and holding each other’s stuff while trying to wrestle a crying baby back into its pants. Maybe after all those years of struggling against becoming completely mommyfied I will just give in to the current and forget about maintaining an illusion of having any other identity. (Remember hobbies? I used to be into theatre, music and woodworking. Seems kind of silly now.)

From beautiful dresses I’ve naturally evolved (yes, that’s way better than “deteriorated”) into comfortable clothing that can be washed several times a day at any temperature without being structurally compromised. And no, I absolutely do not feel like myself any longer. But maybe I wasn’t that great to start with?

Listen. Being forced to change isn’t always a bad thing. Looking bad doesn’t ruin my day any more. That’s quite possibly a positive change for me. Thinking long term here.

So we’re not letting go, we’re not too tired to care, and we’re not crying because everything I own is size 8 which seems impossible right now.

We’re rebranding.

P.S. Next I will be rebranding from immigrant to expat. Two can play at that game. Talking to you, British upper middle class.