Who's that?
Sep. 22nd, 2007 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
averygoodun42So Geoff is sick. He's come down with a cold that has everyone commenting: "You sound like crap." Especially tragic because Geoff has one of those yummy voices and knows how to use it (most of the time). When he isn't self-conscious.
But that's not what I wanted to write about. No.
Because Geoff is sick, the impormptu shopping trip M wanted to go on with me included Babe. Considering the poor boy was desperate for some outside time, this was actually, probably a good thing. So, we packed up the diaper bag, I grabbed my emergency jacket, and off we went, into the wild blue yonder. Well, it wasn't really blue, as it was pretty hazy... And it wasn't exactly wild either, considering you can't shop for clothes in the woods unless you're lookin for fig leaves. And those are hard to come by in New England.
But we went off for the outlet stores up north of Concord, stopping by the capitol for a quick pick me up at a bakery called Bread and Chocolate. Um... yum. I snagged a lemon mousse slice and a slice of honey and poppy bread, Babe got a little elephant marzipan gumball and M got a whole bunch of other stuff, including the bread and chocolate the store is named after.
The poppy and honey bread was... far richer than I expected it to be. It was like a poppyseed version of baklava. Very nice, but the small slice I got was too much for one serving.
The trip wasn't exactly enthralling or anything. I'm not much on shopping, really, but it's good to look around every now and again. I saw some nice things, however. I also realized that I may need to hire my cousin and have her tell me what I should wear. I don't know anymore. I have reached a crisis of fashion, which was emphasized when I looked in a mirror and saw just how dumpy and... Middle American I look. Nothing against Middle Americans (nothing at all!), but... well, that's not me! That's not how I see myself in my mind's eye.
If I might digress for just a moment, I'll say that I didn't do that "list seven odd things about yourself" meme that was going around because, well, I wasn't specifically tagged, but mostly I didn't join in because I'm pretty open about myself. Any oddities that are a part of my personality or life I've probably already shared with you. Except one.
I don't look at myself in mirrors except when I brush my teeth. Truly, that is the only time I will really look in a mirror, unless something catches my eye or I'm checking out my outfit or whatnot.
I think I caught this trait from my mum, who calls it proof of her vanity. She just assumes that she looks good, so why bother looking in the mirror? I'm not sure that's the reasoning behind my behavior, but it's probably something similar.
So, not looking mirrors, I tend to rely on my inner vision of myself. It's rather silly, as I tend to sentimentalize certain aspects, or just rely on memories of when I did look in the mirror on a fairly regular basis. Problem is, that was about ten years ago, and my body has changed just a wee bit since then. So've I.
So, one of the shops I went in, while M was trying on shoes, was a juniors shop. Well, clubbing or college girl shop I think would be more appropriate labelling. Lots of nifty colors, patterns and designs, most of which were cut to flatter the trim forms of lithe young bodies.
I forget that I'm not lithe anymore. I forget that I have a ponch. I forget that I have boobs (or what passes for such). I forget that I have curves, some of which need to be de-emhasized now. I forget all of this until I look in the mirror and am confronted with what a fuddy-duddy I have become. Even my low-cut 515's look... middle-aged on me, and that's just not right! I'm not due for middle-age for another fifteen years, thank you very much!
Of course, on the other hand, I don't really want to wear most of the stuff that college girls are wearing. Most of it looks pretty trashy to my eyes. And I also don't really want to spend lots of money revamping my wardrobe. Of course, this is why I came home from Vancouver last time with a plan to sew an entire new wardobe for myself. But, several months have gone by and I haven't even finished the muslin pattern for my sailor pants. And now I doubt that they'll suit me when I do make them.
I guess this is all a part of my "where am I and who should I ask for when I get there" existential crisis I've been going through for the last six months or so. Year? Two years? Five? I look in the mirror and don't recognize the person I've become. I look prematurely old - matronly - and I don't like it. I want to be the sexy-gal-who-got-her-guy again, but I don't want to look like I'm trying to recapture my teenage years. *shudders* And it's not about my body, which is just fine the way it is right now (well, fine except for a few things a little excercise wouldn't make better), it's how to present myself to the world as the person I am.
'Course, finding out who I am would help in answering that, wouldn't it?
And, of course, being a mother is part of who I am now. I spent more time at the playground watching Babe, or cajolling Babe to leave the ride behind so we could join M, or escorting Babe to the restroom when he said he wanted to go to the bathroom. (He was being completely honest about that. He wanted to go into the stall, and that was that.) I think, of the five hours we were at the mall, I spent about half an hour shopping. That is the plight of motherhood. I know and accept this. I'm even pretty much okay with it (although I really want nothing more than to dump Babe on Geoff's lap and flee their presence tomorrow).
But that doesn't mean I have to look matronly, does it? And what about the other parts of me that get hidden behind the baby? The parts that are so hard to find because of the baby?
*sigh*
Anyway, M&M and Geoff, Babe and I are going to the Renfest next weekend, and so I've dug out my old costume, I bought large silver earings and will find an appropriate headscarf so that I can look like the gypsy queen I am. Maybe dressing up for the day will help me find those missing bits, the same way a good play will make you examine life more closely.
If not, I hope to at least look good and feel sexy in my corset. :-)
Oh, and PS: The leaves are starting to turn already. The burning bushes up north were a glorious fuchia. Beautiful!
But that's not what I wanted to write about. No.
Because Geoff is sick, the impormptu shopping trip M wanted to go on with me included Babe. Considering the poor boy was desperate for some outside time, this was actually, probably a good thing. So, we packed up the diaper bag, I grabbed my emergency jacket, and off we went, into the wild blue yonder. Well, it wasn't really blue, as it was pretty hazy... And it wasn't exactly wild either, considering you can't shop for clothes in the woods unless you're lookin for fig leaves. And those are hard to come by in New England.
But we went off for the outlet stores up north of Concord, stopping by the capitol for a quick pick me up at a bakery called Bread and Chocolate. Um... yum. I snagged a lemon mousse slice and a slice of honey and poppy bread, Babe got a little elephant marzipan gumball and M got a whole bunch of other stuff, including the bread and chocolate the store is named after.
The poppy and honey bread was... far richer than I expected it to be. It was like a poppyseed version of baklava. Very nice, but the small slice I got was too much for one serving.
The trip wasn't exactly enthralling or anything. I'm not much on shopping, really, but it's good to look around every now and again. I saw some nice things, however. I also realized that I may need to hire my cousin and have her tell me what I should wear. I don't know anymore. I have reached a crisis of fashion, which was emphasized when I looked in a mirror and saw just how dumpy and... Middle American I look. Nothing against Middle Americans (nothing at all!), but... well, that's not me! That's not how I see myself in my mind's eye.
If I might digress for just a moment, I'll say that I didn't do that "list seven odd things about yourself" meme that was going around because, well, I wasn't specifically tagged, but mostly I didn't join in because I'm pretty open about myself. Any oddities that are a part of my personality or life I've probably already shared with you. Except one.
I don't look at myself in mirrors except when I brush my teeth. Truly, that is the only time I will really look in a mirror, unless something catches my eye or I'm checking out my outfit or whatnot.
I think I caught this trait from my mum, who calls it proof of her vanity. She just assumes that she looks good, so why bother looking in the mirror? I'm not sure that's the reasoning behind my behavior, but it's probably something similar.
So, not looking mirrors, I tend to rely on my inner vision of myself. It's rather silly, as I tend to sentimentalize certain aspects, or just rely on memories of when I did look in the mirror on a fairly regular basis. Problem is, that was about ten years ago, and my body has changed just a wee bit since then. So've I.
So, one of the shops I went in, while M was trying on shoes, was a juniors shop. Well, clubbing or college girl shop I think would be more appropriate labelling. Lots of nifty colors, patterns and designs, most of which were cut to flatter the trim forms of lithe young bodies.
I forget that I'm not lithe anymore. I forget that I have a ponch. I forget that I have boobs (or what passes for such). I forget that I have curves, some of which need to be de-emhasized now. I forget all of this until I look in the mirror and am confronted with what a fuddy-duddy I have become. Even my low-cut 515's look... middle-aged on me, and that's just not right! I'm not due for middle-age for another fifteen years, thank you very much!
Of course, on the other hand, I don't really want to wear most of the stuff that college girls are wearing. Most of it looks pretty trashy to my eyes. And I also don't really want to spend lots of money revamping my wardrobe. Of course, this is why I came home from Vancouver last time with a plan to sew an entire new wardobe for myself. But, several months have gone by and I haven't even finished the muslin pattern for my sailor pants. And now I doubt that they'll suit me when I do make them.
I guess this is all a part of my "where am I and who should I ask for when I get there" existential crisis I've been going through for the last six months or so. Year? Two years? Five? I look in the mirror and don't recognize the person I've become. I look prematurely old - matronly - and I don't like it. I want to be the sexy-gal-who-got-her-guy again, but I don't want to look like I'm trying to recapture my teenage years. *shudders* And it's not about my body, which is just fine the way it is right now (well, fine except for a few things a little excercise wouldn't make better), it's how to present myself to the world as the person I am.
'Course, finding out who I am would help in answering that, wouldn't it?
And, of course, being a mother is part of who I am now. I spent more time at the playground watching Babe, or cajolling Babe to leave the ride behind so we could join M, or escorting Babe to the restroom when he said he wanted to go to the bathroom. (He was being completely honest about that. He wanted to go into the stall, and that was that.) I think, of the five hours we were at the mall, I spent about half an hour shopping. That is the plight of motherhood. I know and accept this. I'm even pretty much okay with it (although I really want nothing more than to dump Babe on Geoff's lap and flee their presence tomorrow).
But that doesn't mean I have to look matronly, does it? And what about the other parts of me that get hidden behind the baby? The parts that are so hard to find because of the baby?
*sigh*
Anyway, M&M and Geoff, Babe and I are going to the Renfest next weekend, and so I've dug out my old costume, I bought large silver earings and will find an appropriate headscarf so that I can look like the gypsy queen I am. Maybe dressing up for the day will help me find those missing bits, the same way a good play will make you examine life more closely.
If not, I hope to at least look good and feel sexy in my corset. :-)
Oh, and PS: The leaves are starting to turn already. The burning bushes up north were a glorious fuchia. Beautiful!
