Try and think back to when you were a teenager. I remember waking up at 5 am so that I could straighten my hair, perfectly apply my winged eyeliner, and find every blemish or imperfection on my body to disguise it. Even after I had put in the work to look my absolute best, I still spent the entire day being self conscious that my cover-up would fade and my true self be revealed. Then I became a mother.
The transition to me was similar to what I went through with J after we were married. When you’re dating, you try to look your best, say the most appealing things, and make your self appear as compatible as possible. Once you’re married though, the scales fall and you tell your spouse what you need and expect from them now that you’re both in the trenches of matrimony together.
The sweet surrender of motherhood was coming to the conclusion that it isn’t going to be perfect every day. My outfits won’t be perfect, my make up won’t always be done, and my true self will shine through more than I care it to, and as much as I am tempted to cringe, I rejoice in it. How exhausting it was to create this perfect persona every day. The person I am as a mother is real, tangible, and relatable.
Eyebrows go unplucked, blemishes arise, weight is gained but it is much more important that my children are fed, that our home is warm, and that we are kind and charitable to others. Those are the things that have taken precedence over my appearances and that is not some thing to be ashamed of, but to be proud of.