Frumpification

I ran out of eyeliner a couple of weeks ago.  When we went shopping on Friday, I finally remembered to get some more, but the store was fresh out of my shade of choice.  No big deal, I thought.  I've got no one to impress.  I don't wear much make-up anyway, and I figured I could get by with just mascara.

Getting ready for church this morning, all I did for my hair was pin my bangs back, although to be fair this is more than I usually do.  I'd love to be one of those ladies with nicely coiffed hair, but I don't have the patience or the hairspray.  Or the skill.  My bangs are currently at that awkward phase where they are too short to be incorporated into the rest of my hair, and too long look great.  So pinned back they went.

Family pictures consist of Lewis, Jack, and me trying to make Jack smile.

During the first hour of church as I was headed back to the mothers lounge to feed Jack, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and discovered that I look decidedly motherish.  Inside I still feel the same as I did when I was fifteen.  But between my frumped-up face, practical hair, and squishy post-baby belly, I definitely do not look it.  I like to think that when people see me out and about with Jack they think that I am just his spunky baby-sitter.  After that look in the mirror, I know that that idea is more than a bit deluded.

Whatevs.  I can always hold on to that moment when that realtor came to my door last week and asked if my parents were home.  And my legs.  I've got good legs.

This pictures is an illusion.  I don't look like this.