Whether or not you’ve noticed, I’ve been having some body image issues. I think this is largely because I’m…oh dear, I almost just lied to you there. I almost just said it was because I’m getting more rest and can focus on my body more. Which I’m sure affects things but that’s no reason to lie to you. The real reason is twofold: 1) I’m in a new city and want to make a good impression on the new friends I’m trying to woo into our home. 2) David and I haven’t spent much time together since he moved hours away for a new job in October and I’m mildly desperate to appear like I’m not a hot mess. I need my husband to still think I’m pretty, not just pretty funny.
Now, I’ve been kicking that weight loss goal in the ass. And I got a new haircut to look smoking….but unfortunately, both David and I hate the haircut. I hated it before David said anything, for the record. Many of you have complimented the haircut and for that I thank you. But it just does not lay correctly. I’ll style it, it’ll look great, I’ll take a picture and by the time I’m done taking the picture, some piece is sticking out at a wild angle making me look like a crazy cat lady. Hate.
It’s actually pretty amazing how many jokes there are out there, how many jokes we make ourselves, about how gross moms are. Jokes about mom jeans are certainly most prevalent. But we all make jokes about dirty yoga pants, unwashed hair, and other things to discuss how “gross” moms are. And they’re kinda getting to me in a way they didn’t when I had Alex.
Also, for the record, that joke at the top? That really happened. And the Maxim cover model I met was so unbelievably nice it was painful. I, for my part, looked lovely at lunch and got through it without so much as getting spit up on my shoulder. Boom.
Anyway, the jokes. I don’ t like them. I’m tired of us putting ourselves down. Unless you’re really funny like The Empress or Ann Imig (or like I used to be), they get to be kind of you beating yourself. They get to be not jokes anymore.
Here are some things I really think would be funny:
1) We start making jokes about farmers’ tans and how dads are “gross” for having them.
2) More jokes about man boobs
3) Me getting a full week without having a rumble with poop. It would be hilarious.
I’m coming from a super hormonal place here. I realize that. But I’m getting kind of edgy and stabby about the jokes. I’m not gross just because I’m a mom. I brush my teeth, I shower, I put on make up even. Sometimes my clothes don’t match. But that’s not untrue for my husband. So why isn’t he feeling all insecure?
If you say hormones, I will cut you. Because I’m solidly blaming the jokes.
Or maybe it’s the hormones, what the hell do I know?
PS. I’m thinking in another few months or so I’ll find my funny groove. I actually think funny things all the time but by the time I try to write them down here, I find myself getting off topic. Remember, this blog wasn’t started until Alex was five months old. And then no one read it until he was six months old. Until then, tell me the funniest thing that’s happened to you lately.
I swear I’m funnier on Facebook. Less tired too because I don’t have to do the “coherent sentence making”. Like me on Facebook to get some funny in your day.