Bringing Sexy Back

Seriously, what is it about motherhood and becoming blah? Is it that we're so freaking tired that even so much as putting mousse in our hair seems to require too much energy? I swore to my hair stylist that I'd defuse dry my naturally curly hair at least once a week. That was three months ago. You know how many times I've done it? Yup, once. That following week.

Why bother is what I think? Half the time, I wake up to the beautiful sound of the coffee grinder on the coffeemaker and think, "Do I really need to shower today?" If I'm not going out in public, the answer is usually no, I don't. Though, I have learned that I have better days when I do anyway.

These rough-looking Mama days are hard for me, even though I've never been a high-maintenance gal. I did enjoy dressing up here and there, though, and feeling good about myself.

Now, splurging on silly things like nail polish and fancy hair gel, seems irrelevant. Even when I do get a cash surge, which is not very often, the money usually needs to go to something else, and that something else both wear a Size 5 diaper, eat us out of house and home and demand lots of attention all day.

That isn't to say I didn't have my bad days before becoming a mother. I did. In fact, I have proof that it's not all from being a mother.

Since I was a small child, writing and storytelling has been my escape, the only way I knew how to let out my exploding emotions. If I was feeling it, it was written down in the darkest of places – a journal.

As we prepare to sell our home, and downsize to hopefully live more comfortably on one income, I am faced with a box of journals that I have kept over the years. I am not sure it is every single journal I’ve ever written in, but I do believe it is most of them.

The first journal I pulled out of the box was one from seven years ago, just before I met my soon-to-be husband. Like most of my lovely journals, it’s only partially full.

This one is different than the rest; it’s not about complaining or crying, it’s about feeling sexy. I wanted to feel good about myself, once and for all. I read about this idea once and thought it was a good one. I set out to not gripe, but to list all of the ways I feel sexy.

That lasted a whopping 13 entries. Not 13 days, either … and, by the end, I was griping and complaining, mostly about men and myself. There was nothing sexy about it.

Before finding this journal, I had thought about starting up a new blog about the very same topic. I think I forgot about the journal, actually.

And now that I’ve found it, I do feel it’s appropriate now, for my mother-like self, with my ragged T-shirts, pony-tailed hair and bare face, to De-Frump or De-Slump.

It is time to make a change, to get back to that sexy girl who felt confident when she walked down the street, the one who wore heels even though they hurt and wore lipstick even though it never lasted long.

That's it. I'm bringing sexy back. As soon as that next burst of energy strikes.