December 11, 2008

The Uglies

Posted in Beauty, Days of my life, Girl Stuff, Just thinking... tagged , , , , , at 11:34 AM by Robin

chicken_little_ugly_duckling

Boy, have I got ’em bad.  The evil One-Year-Postpartum Uglies.  The signs are all there.  The ridiculously frizzy can’t-do-anything-with-it-unless-you-completely-iron-it-into-submission hair.  The acne that is ten times worse than anything I had as a teenager (OK, so I was a fairly lucky teenager).  The extra weight that will not budge so much as a centimeter.  The dark circles under the eyes.  The pasty skin that I swear does not match any shade of foundation ever invented.  Please, please, PLEASE, do NOT, under any circumstances, point a camera anywhere near me right now!

I would be completely and utterly depressed right now if I didn’t know that this is really a continuation of the whole motherhood-makes-you-ugly trend that begins with pregnancy.  This descent into bitter unattractiveness has occurred to me after each and every one of my four children, creeping up on me a full year after giving birth.  Since it usually happened around the time I weaned my other children, I used to attribute it to hormonal changes from stopping breastfeeding.  However, this time, I am at a loss to explain it, since I stopped nursing like nine months ago.  And yet, here I am, fourteen months postpartum, completely uglified.

I can comfort myself with the knowledge gained from experience, however, that the whole situation is somewhat temporary.  It seems like when I’d suffered through the uglies for three or four months and was just on the verge of sending out for my free sample of ProActive, things began to get better.  My skin would finally clear up, making zits once more a semi-annual occurrence, my postpartum fringe would finally grow out enough that my hair would actually lay flat without the persuasion of a flat-iron, and I would get so absolutely disgusted with myself (and sick of being home all the time) that I would finally sign up for the gym and manage to become only marginally instead of morbidly obese.  Unfortunately, the signs are indicating that my eventual recuperation from this terrible onslaught will not occur for several more weeks.  In the meantime, there’s nothing more fun than going to millions of parties looking like something the cat dragged in (I can vouch from personal experience that that is not a pretty sight).  So, Happy Holidays, everybody.  If you want me, I’ll be hiding behind the Christmas tree.

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