A Blind Date with Yourself

A Blind Date With Yourself
Dressing ones body at any age tends to bring out a wide range of emotions.
When you’re five, you feel complete and total confidence.
When you’re thirteen you feel uncomfortable and breathless at the possibilities both at the same time.
At nineteen you feel like sex.  You look and feel like walking sex.
And twenty-five brings back some of your five year old confidence along with a much more thoughtful fashion sense.  Not just, I like unicorns.  Look at my unicorn pants.
Or maybe thats what its like at twenty-five for you, I don’t know but you get my point.
But there is a special kind of body knowledge hell that is reserved for postpartum dressing. 
That dark place you go – the dressing room – with your fresh little bundle, armloads of clothes in varying sizes, engorged breasts, sweating all over and puffy eyes… and then you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.
WHAT THE F…..
And before you all start sending me hate mail about how we should be loving our bodies as the life creating vessels they are and how you wouldn’t trade one stretch mark for that tiny little miracle… zip it.
I’m not debating the miracle of pregnancy or the kick ass shit our bodies can do like make humans.  No, I’m just saying, when you finally really look in that mirror, arms full of random clothing items and wonder “who the hell is she?!” …theres nothing scarier.
Blind date scary.  Pretty much its a naked blind date with yourself.  And you cant even text your friend after and call her a bitch for setting you up.
I can say from personal experience that bathing suit shopping with a screaming two month old is basically the equivalent of getting a cavity filled without any numbing medication.  You go because you have to take your toddler swimming that summer but you would rather be scrubbing toilets then picking which suit looks the least amount of crap.
So just a little heads up to all you mamma’s to be… when you happen to embark on that first postpartum shopping trip.  Take your best girlfriend.
You know, the one who will take you drinking instead of actually shopping for clothes.
Cheers and happy drinking!  I mean shopping!  Shopping, I meant shopping.
~ Erin