One of the things that makes me feel too much of a mom and not enough of sexy me these days is my wardrobe. I don’t know why, but somehow I ended up with a closet full of the Standard Mommy Uniforms – i.e. plain tee shirts and yoga pants (with the occasional pair of capris thrown in for good measure). I used to have all sorts of cool clothes – funky black tee shirts, velvet tops, slinky form fitting dresses, mini-skirts, black leather boots, etc. Anything that showed off my figure and my personality. Most of my wardrobe is still pretty form fitting (and miracle of miracles, I am back to my pre-pregnancy figure), but it’s all plain solid colors. It’s just so damned boring!
I guess I did it to myself. Maybe I didn’t want to wear all my nice stuff when it was only going to be covered in poop and spit up. Maybe I was too tired to get dressed up. Maybe I just wanted to make it easy to get dressed in the mornings by wearing mix and match clothing that didn’t require any thought. Maybe (and I can’t believe I’d admit this), maybe I just wanted my outfits to be appropriate for play dates with mundane moms. It’s hard to fit in with the other mommies when your favorite top screams “Anarchist!” and your jewelry is all little metal skulls and such. Yes, I used to be a punk/goth/sci-fi lovin’ amazon babe. Freak. Weirdo. Whatever. Look, you’re reading the blog of a woman who writes erotica and loves to draw dirty pictures. What did you expect?
I tell you what I expected. I expected to keep my weirdness and my cool factor even after having kids. I expected to be sexy and out of this world exotic no matter how many diapers I had to change. I did not expect to blend in with the beige carpeting at the pediatrician’s office.
I want my freaky clothes back. I want the goth tee shirts and the punk jewelry and the lipstick so dark it almost looks black. I want to be the scary mommy who reminds you of Morticia Adams when she shows up at play dates toting a baby dressed in a Roman Dirge onesie and a preschooler who reminds you of a character from “Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends.” I want to spike my hair, wear leather mini-skirts and make people’s jaws drop when I walk by in thigh-high black boots.
I want my frikkin’ wardrobe back and the personality that went with it. Then I’d feel sexy, damn it. Kick ass sexy.
Speaking of stuff both gothic and freaky, here’s the art work from yesterday. It’s a small piece of a gothic horror cartoon I’ve started work on, done strictly in my own style. As I work on it, I’ll scan in other bits and pieces to show off.
Gothic horror cartoon, detail – 31 August 2006
