Mom Jeans, I declare a war on you

I am the youngest mom in playgroup by about a decade, and my new book club is no different.

I attended my first meeting of the mommy book club yesterday evening... After a day of rough housing and changing diapers, I came dressed casual, but cute. I put on make-up and kitten heels, brushed my hair, and dabbed some perfume.

As for the other mommies... let's just say, I spied some "mom jeans" in action.

While I am okay with being the "young one" in the group, I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with being the "young, hot mom" in the group. That just sounds like an aweful lot of pressure...

While no one actually commented on my outfit, I'm sure it just seemed like I was trying too hard... Oh well. I simply refuse to let motherhood cramp my style-- whatever that may be.

Of course, I've run out of the house wearing sweats and beat up sneakers more often than I'm willing to admit. There have even been the days when I totally meant to stop by the gym on the way home, but ended up running a bunch of errands looking like crap. Inevitability, those are the days I run into someone that I wish I hadn't. Eek!

Some days, I just enjoy dressing up and looking lovely again. I remember when I used to have all the time in the world to shop for clothes, shoes, and make-up... I would actually practice new hairstyles from magazines, instead of winging it at the last minute. I even used to starch and iron my clothes... These days my ironing board and iron are simply remnants of a bygone era.

Be prepared to gag as I reveal this to you... but I actually invested in matching underwear and by "matching" I mean to my outfits in addition to each other.

While I was pregnant, I asked my husband to make room for my maternity clothes by moving some of my old pant, skirts and fitted blouses from the "Size 4" days to the third bar of our closet. This was supposed to be a "temporary move" until my inner skinny girl emerged once more.

My son will be a year old in a month and they are STILL on that third bar-- collecting dust. I look up there occasionally and guesstimate that there is at least $1,000 in purchases and alterations hanging up there... IN BLACK PANTS alone.

Oh, cute pants and blouses how I miss you!!!

When I went back to work, I bought enough new (fat) clothes so that my co-workers didn't mistake me for a disheveled, homeless person. Again, when I started staying home, I invested in some more cotton shirts... but NO MORE!

I refuse to buy one more stitch of clothing until I can wear my old duds again. Although my personal trainer(s) claim that I can do it, I don't know...

I wonder if that's the reason why some women end up wearing their "mom jeans" forever. Double-Eek!