I used to be a socially acceptable human being… after high school, of course. When i was in (community) college, i didn’t go to school in sweats and yoga pants.
In all fairness, the yoga pant craze hadn’t hit yet.
I didn’t wear stretch pants anywhere
I had jeans on, damnit. Dirty, clean, whatever. They were not track suits, warm up outfits or velour anything. JEANS, muthaf*cka.
And usually a somewhat normal everyday top. No stains. No unraveled seams. No holes. NO STAINS.
If i ate in front of others, i was careful. I took my time. I wiped my mouth with a napkin.
In my “Before” life when i had a paying job, i went to work groomed. Hair combed. Somehow styled. I’ve never been a hairspray fanatic, but worse came to worse, my hair was up in a clip or ponytail. There weren’t any grey hairs.
I could hold a conversation with a peer for longer than five minutes, and it almost never involved a discussion about bodily fluids or breast milk.
When I would go out with my husband, we could stay out beyond 9pm and still be awake enough to drive a car. We would even go places other than a movie theater or restaurant. We went out to dance, drink, have fun, and would know it was time to come home when my shoes began to hurt my feet.
My life has changed dramatically since giving birth to my two little heavenly beings.
I can’t drink coffee/tea/water without planning and making sure there’s bathroom access no longer than 15 minutes after drinking said beverage.
My daily conversations with grown ups are restricted to paying bills and making appointments.
If i have clothes on that i didn’t actually sleep in the night before, i’m dressed. If those clothes don’t have any food/marks/stains on them, i’m dressed UP.
I eat my lunch like an animal when no one is home to see me. I wipe with my hands, i brush onto my pants. Once my toddler goes down for her nap, it’s MY time and i get to eat without anyone asking for a bite, a lick, a taste. I don’t have to cut anyone else’s food up while mine gets cold. I eat my food quick, messy, and hot whenever possible just because it’s the one meal that is almost guaranteed.
I’m like a cavewoman
My hair is more than comfortable going under a hat at any time of the day, and sadly it looks no worse or better after the abuse.
If i’m going through the hassle of going out for the evening, i better be home by 9:30 or i’m sleeping in the car. I am wearing comfortable shoes and stretchy clothes so i can make the most of it, and wherever i go is almost always dark. A movie. A restaurant. Hiding out by the trash cans on the side of the house.
Conversations that strain my mental capacity involve what is in the bank account vs what needs to be paid yesterday. Also, following complicated TV storylines is out. If i’m using time after the kids are in bed, i need to be laughing or comatose.
This is where my life has gone. Sometimes i miss being a human grown up real person. Sometimes. Other times it’s pretty cool that i’m watching a Disney movie at home at 10:30 in the morning and not dealing with other people’s shit all day.
Well, i AM dealing with someone else’s poo, but i made the person who makes the poo, so it’s all above board and totally acceptable.
This is the life, people. I’m now in training to be a senior citizen.