This morning one of my online friends mentioned she was afraid of having panty lines.
That got me thinking about how NOT worried I was about that anymore. My granny panties probably have lines bigger than a Soviet bread line but I really don’t care. Back in the day, I might have worn a thong but now the thought of doing that now makes me cringe. On my list of things to do, wearing a thong to eliminate unsightly panty lines HAS to be at the very bottom.
My apathy towards panty lines got me thinking about the other things that I don’t care about anymore, and the list is frighteningly long.
I have started farting in public. Once upon a time, I would have imploded before I did such a thing, but now I just let it rip. This actually started when I was pregnant because, well, one might expect a ginormous pregnant lady to let one or two slip out every once in a while. But now, I have continued this because really…what better to blame foul smells and errant sounds on than a helpless baby who is unable defend herself?
I don’t care any more about where I buy my clothes. I march directly to the plus size department because elastic waists and flowing silhouettes remind me of my favorite things EVER: maternity clothes. As soon as I could (without looking like a complete freak) I traded in my low-waisted, J Crew boot cut denim pants for velour tracksuits.
I don’t care if I have worn the same clothes four days in a row – as long as I change my granny panties daily and the spit up stains are in inconspicuous places, why not? Okay…actually, I lied. Even if the stains ARE quite obvious that is okay, too, as long as long as I am toting the baby with me so people can see that I am obviously a fairly new mom and getting thrown up on is just par for the course.
I guess I have other things that are more important to care about at this point in my life: making sure the baby is happy, keeping a reasonably clean house, not letting the children starve.
I hope that one day I will care a little bit more. I know that deep within me is someone who usually isn’t like this ~ someone who used to care about her appearance, who exercised five to six days a week (vigorously, mind you!), who said “no” to cake and/or candy bars, who wore un-elasticized pants.
The baby turns five months tomorrow so maybe that would be a good time to pull myself together, put my game face on and start making a bit more of an effort.