So, I thought getting married was akin to "growing up." Then, I thought having a job would be the milestone that marked "growing up." Having a baby? Closer. Unfortunately, it appears as though EVENTS in my life are not the catalysts I had thought. Instead, it *will be* my actions. And I'm a mom now, so it's time, right? I didn't really get that memo until I was looking at some pictures of myself from Saturday.
Flashback to Saturday: Baby B and I went out for an evening playdate. Unbeknownst to me, one of the moms there was in charge of taking photographs of the event. No problem, right? Wrong.
The pictures were posted, and I eagerly scrolled through them to view the photos of B and his friends. Then it happened. The very FIRST photo was of ME! Side view. NOT pretty. Aside from realizing that my beloved fleece sweater isn't so flattering, I was gobsmacked with the reality that it's time to grow up. You know, have a grown-up hairstyle. I didn't realize that throwing my hair up in a ponytail everyday made me look so adolescent. I looked like a college student...except fatter. (Note that my concern is about the hair, not the fatness...that's a whole other post.)
Yes, of course, I go to the salon and have them work their magic with my hair. Of course, well, that's only when I keep my appointments. I have a nice cut, but you'd never know it. I'm a sucker for the wash, air dry, and tie-it-up routine. Well, Jennifer, my dear, you're a bit OLD for that. Frankly, bless your heart (southern for "I'm about to say something tacky,") you look like a slob.
OUCH! But it's true. My friends, you'll be happy to know that today I spent a whole twenty minutes styling my hair. Now, if I could only get rid of this old raggedy sweatshirt I'm wearing...