Death to vanity
Ed and I went out for the first time since Ivy's arrival on Sat night, well out at night I mean, and together...for the first time. (Don't want to sound like some weird person who's been in the house since the birth..but usually one of us goes out and the other babysits if it's night.) Anyway Ed got invited to a very swish Xmas party in Balmain and I thought bugger it, if I'm not going out at night much these days then this is the night to cash in my babysitting chips with my Mum, get frocked up and head on out to a fully catered, schuzchy, glam event such as this one.
After Ivy was in bed I got dressed, quite normal I can assure you..I don't spend my days naked generally but I felt quite odd as I got my outfit on. It was nothing that special, just an embroidered white top, jeans, earrings, purple suede heels, makeup, perfume....nothing out of the ordinary really but it all felt very strange. After some thought I realised why...
Babies are evil buggers, they can take a perfectly normal, self obsessed, slightly lazy 30-something and turn them into a tired, grotty servant in the blink of an eye. Without even realising it - Ivy has performed the death blow to the last remnants of my vanity.
I was never a real princess type but the other night I realised things have changed in the last 6 months. For starters I never really wear make up anymore - foundation gets smeared off on clothes during cuddles, lipstick is either smeared off by chubby little cheeks or hands or ends up on her forehead from all my kissing. My hair, in fear of being ripped out is usually tied up in a messy ponytail. If it's loose it's not only in danger of being ripped from my head but also of being coated in vomit. I have trouble wearing perfume as it smells so strong when it rubs off on her and she likes to lick and dribble on my neck and wrists...sunscreen and insect repellent - ditto.
When it comes to clothes I have to have a strategy. This usually involves having to wear two tops, both with easy access to the boob region of my bod for feeding (unless I feel like flashing either my gut or my chest when I'm out) dresses are off limits too unless you fancy pulling it right down to feed or up showing everyone your knickers... The clothes I choose must also be good at absorbing stains such as vomit, regugitated carrot and on the occassional horrific moment poo and wee so darker colours like black and grey seem to work - white is a definite no no unless you want to spend even more time in the laundry performing stain removal miracles. Skirts aren't so good for climbing around on the ground when playing with your darling (it's the flashing your knickers dilemma again) and no heels as flat shoes are a must for hoiking a stroller the size of a 4WD around the streets. Oh and just when you've found an outfit that matches this criteria you'd better make sure you have another just like it ready to go as guaranteed the first one will be covered in vomit before you reach the front door.
Once the clothes are sorted it's time for accessories. Namely none. Earrings are pulled out, necklaces become garotting devices, are slobbered on or become vomit catchers that are mighty hard to clean up. Scarves suffer the same fate. My favourite bracelet has been shelved also as it's a solid silver square and tends to stick into little backs and arms which results in screaming. My final resort was rings, which I thought would be completely baby proof. Wrong again as it seems that 6 months of endless stain removal experiements and laundry chores have meant constantly wet hands which means dermatitis on my fingers - so the rings are off now keeping the rest of the jewellery company in my cupboard.
So here I am, the real me, stripped of all my smoke and mirrors by my little darling. It's not glam but I've got used to it and on the bright side I'm pretty quick at getting ready these days. But I must say again that babies are evil buggers. As nowadays I can't spend anytime making myself look good, I find myself having to channel my asthetic energies somewhere each morning. So how do I do it? By dressing her in the cutest things I can find - and somehow babies can still look cute even when they've just vomited. Evil.
After Ivy was in bed I got dressed, quite normal I can assure you..I don't spend my days naked generally but I felt quite odd as I got my outfit on. It was nothing that special, just an embroidered white top, jeans, earrings, purple suede heels, makeup, perfume....nothing out of the ordinary really but it all felt very strange. After some thought I realised why...
Babies are evil buggers, they can take a perfectly normal, self obsessed, slightly lazy 30-something and turn them into a tired, grotty servant in the blink of an eye. Without even realising it - Ivy has performed the death blow to the last remnants of my vanity.
I was never a real princess type but the other night I realised things have changed in the last 6 months. For starters I never really wear make up anymore - foundation gets smeared off on clothes during cuddles, lipstick is either smeared off by chubby little cheeks or hands or ends up on her forehead from all my kissing. My hair, in fear of being ripped out is usually tied up in a messy ponytail. If it's loose it's not only in danger of being ripped from my head but also of being coated in vomit. I have trouble wearing perfume as it smells so strong when it rubs off on her and she likes to lick and dribble on my neck and wrists...sunscreen and insect repellent - ditto.
When it comes to clothes I have to have a strategy. This usually involves having to wear two tops, both with easy access to the boob region of my bod for feeding (unless I feel like flashing either my gut or my chest when I'm out) dresses are off limits too unless you fancy pulling it right down to feed or up showing everyone your knickers... The clothes I choose must also be good at absorbing stains such as vomit, regugitated carrot and on the occassional horrific moment poo and wee so darker colours like black and grey seem to work - white is a definite no no unless you want to spend even more time in the laundry performing stain removal miracles. Skirts aren't so good for climbing around on the ground when playing with your darling (it's the flashing your knickers dilemma again) and no heels as flat shoes are a must for hoiking a stroller the size of a 4WD around the streets. Oh and just when you've found an outfit that matches this criteria you'd better make sure you have another just like it ready to go as guaranteed the first one will be covered in vomit before you reach the front door.
Once the clothes are sorted it's time for accessories. Namely none. Earrings are pulled out, necklaces become garotting devices, are slobbered on or become vomit catchers that are mighty hard to clean up. Scarves suffer the same fate. My favourite bracelet has been shelved also as it's a solid silver square and tends to stick into little backs and arms which results in screaming. My final resort was rings, which I thought would be completely baby proof. Wrong again as it seems that 6 months of endless stain removal experiements and laundry chores have meant constantly wet hands which means dermatitis on my fingers - so the rings are off now keeping the rest of the jewellery company in my cupboard.
So here I am, the real me, stripped of all my smoke and mirrors by my little darling. It's not glam but I've got used to it and on the bright side I'm pretty quick at getting ready these days. But I must say again that babies are evil buggers. As nowadays I can't spend anytime making myself look good, I find myself having to channel my asthetic energies somewhere each morning. So how do I do it? By dressing her in the cutest things I can find - and somehow babies can still look cute even when they've just vomited. Evil.
posted by Kate Browne at 6:18 PM
1 Comments:
That's funny, because I don't have a baby and yet after two years of living and working in the world's daggiest town and now living out of a backpack and recently arrived in Rome... I feel the same way. I thought I was doing okay because I bought a nice coat from Benneton but now I'm too scared to take it off because compared to the women, men and babies in this town I might as well be covered in vomit...
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