Sunday, August 30, 2009

Stepping Back into Sexy

As the hubby and I are trying to decide when to have another baby, I'm remembering all those early days when I was sleep-deprived and wondering what the heck I was thinking (but yeah, in the end it was worth it because toddlers are super-cool). Recently, I ran across something I wrote after an attempt to "get my sexy on" post-baby and full nights of sleep. I thought this was already on here, but I guess not! So here's a funny story from when my daughter was around 3 months old:

Yesterday, two of my worlds collided. That there were just two of my worlds there is debatable. I experienced past/present, sexy/gross, fantasy/reality, ability-to-just-worry-about-not-busting-MY-face/can't-wear-heels-because-I'm-carrying-a-baby-around.

Ok, so a lot of worlds. It was the opposite of the Big Bang Theory (I know there's a term for that, but there's a whining kid next to me in her crib, refusing to take her normally 2.5 hour nap for the fifth day in a row, so I can't conjure it up at the moment). Whatever it's called, there was a giant implosion. Everything I know meshed together at once, and it wasn't pretty. It was colorful, though, a nice mix of purple-brown, green, and red.

I was in this cute little boutique in a nearby town's downtown area, enjoying the facts that I'd managed to work that stinking stroller at all, that I was in good company (my sister and my best friend since elementary school), and that I had some darn good (spilling as I navigated the slightly bumpy sidewalk with it in the cupholder of the stroller), fresh, delicious coffee with a bittersweet hint of chocolate. The sun was out but not scalding; the promise of spring was right around the corner. Life was good. It was almost what I've always known as normal. Plus the additional baggage, of course.

My friend, my sister, and I passed by the store at first, but my daughter was fighting the sun as ferociously as a six-month old can: shielding her face, taking off the hat that I put on her to block the sun and throwing it to the sidewalk in frustration, squinting, and trying to squirm lower in her seat as if falling to the ground would take the sun from the sky. Nope, it won’t take the sun out of the sky, but it might make her see stars. When we passed by, my friend mentioned that they tend to have cute things in there.

In an effort to relieve my daughter's discomfort at least for a little while, I decided to do a U-turn in the middle of sidewalk, crew in tow, and take a look though I'd sworn not to buy anything more than coffee and I dreaded steering a stroller through a store that promised to have narrow aisles. Oh well. I have to stop dangling my feet in life and dive back in, I suppose. I just prayed she wouldn't cry.

I thought the store might be full of stuffy old women and a pretentious owner who was as protective of her carefully selected merchandise as a bulldog with a pork chop. They'd look down upon screaming tots and the moms who thought it was okay to bring them in and disturb other customers' shopping experience. I know. It wasn't too long ago that my mindset was similar. The employees and customers weren't like I'd imagined at all.

They did have a glossy wooden sign inside that said, "Unattended children will be given espresso and a puppy." At least they had a sense of humor. I couldn't say that I blamed them for not wanting young children running around the store, breaking the beaded necklaces and tossing around the fluffy purses like hacky-sacks. I've seen what kind of damage eighteen year olds can do.

You know how some couples say they met at a crowded bar, that their eyes met instantly across the room and everything/everyone else just disappeared? They say they knew they should probably not break away from their group of friends to go chat, and they could never take that person home to Mama....because they had dangerous and fun written all over them--a far cry from steady and dependable, or even remotely wholesome.

That's how it was with this patent leather, red stiletto peep-toe pump. In an instant, I knew I had to have a pair of them, even if they were (especially because they were!) cheap. Not practical, I said. I need to have flats--cute, girl-next-door, mommy-material flats I was just expressing a need for to my husband. I'll never balance in those while carrying an extra 20 lbs on my hip, I thought (and I still won't, even though I bought them). Gaaah, it was sexy, glinting, winking at me under the muted lighting of the little store. Posed like a wallflower, but most obviously not a wallflower, the shoe was begging to be approached. By me.

I pushed my daughter in her stroller over to the display, trying my best not to drag the Vera Bradley purses that lined the floor along with me as I attempted to saunter over.

What size? What size? Ah! There it is! A 6.5. My size. Score. Oh no! It's too big; it falls off when I walk. "Do you have this in a six?" I tried not to sound frantic as I had a brush with my former, sexy life.

They did. I tried it on. Tight. Don't care. Doesn't fall off. I will sit and look pretty, as long as they stay on my feet while I shuffle short distances and try to suck my belly in. At this point, I was sitting with one crimson shoe on, one clunky, flat ski-shoe-esque boot on, holding my daughter who'd begun to cry.

I guessed she was crying was because she was hot and started to wrestle off her top layer of clothing, a hot pink blanket sleeper. As I sat there with one foot quite literally in the past and the other one in the present, I felt my forearm begin to warm. Prunes. Peas. Up my sleeves and previously eaten. The crying finally stopped as my best friend dove into my purse for a cloth to help me clean up the mess.

"How are those shoes working out for you?" the sales lady asked, seemingly oblivious to my dilemma.

At this point, I'd do anything to get some sort of groove back, so I answered, "A little tight, but I'm buying them anyway. And this smoky black loose eye shadow too."

"Oh, they'll loosen up over time."

"Good, that will be great," I replied, borderline delirious. Somewhere it registered that I was glad I was getting the tighter of the two pairs of shoes. I was thrilled I'd found a pair just like I'd wanted in the middle of last year at half the price. I was also distracted by the stickiness of my skin. I wished a change of clothes for me was in the diaper bag.

They should really consider making a Mary Poppins diaper bag. I've needed an umbrella, a change of clothes, a coat, and several other items since I've started carrying that thing around. I have to pare it down, though, having only two hands.

Let's just say I look like quite the intellectual pushing a stroller that protects the baby from the elements, in the rain with no umbrella, or in the cold with no coat (it's harder to pick up your child with a bulky coat on…they just slide right through your hands!). For my next act I'll be adding precariously tall heels while walking and juggling singing toys in primary colors. I may even throw in a cute little ditty or two while I do it, why not.

I cleaned up with one of the burping cloths I always carry whether I remember to brush my hair or not. My friend (bless her soul!) took my baby for a minute while I checked out, and I bought the shoes. Now I just have to figure out an appropriate time to slip them on.

1 comment:

Christin said...

Aw I remember that day and those shoes.... ;)