Get ready

Oh...the injustices of being a woman.
Not only do we bear the burden of pregnancy, childbirth, periods, breastfeeding, and all the other hormonal challenges we face, we are also supposed to look good while doing all of this.

I often lament to the Politician how unfair this is. I give him a ten minute warning before we leave the house. In that ten minutes, he has time to get himself completely ready, get a snack, use the restroom, and he still usually has time left over. He'll throw on some jeans and shirt and cover his messy hair with a hat and voila! He's ready to go.

I, on the other hand, have been in the bathroom the past hour. Shaving, plucking, tweezing, brushing, using things on my eyelashes that I'm certain were modeled after medieval torture devices. After an hour+ of this I should look like a super model. Wrong. I now look fit to be seen in public. After an hour, I'm still not done either. I have to find something to wear.

Another half hour....
Squeezing myself into skinny jeans I curse the man that invented them. It had to have been a man. No woman would do this to another woman. Why aren't yoga pants in fashion? Sigh. I long for the olden days of Juicy Couture track suits. Those were my wonder years. After a half hour of smashing my body and contorting my internal organs, I now am dressed and ready to go.

Oh no...I'm not. I have to pack my bag! I forgot, I'm not supposed to just wander around and look pretty, I'm supposed to also be a pack animal at the same time. Sippy cup, snacks, wallet, giant make-up bag, little toys, and a zillion other things must be found and deposited into the giant bag I call a purse. At this point, my purse borders on an 'I'm backpacking across Europe' backpack.

Now that I'm finally ready, it's time to get the Dictator ready. Tears, bows, shoes, "I want to wear my pink sparkly boooooots! and mismatched (on purpose!) socks later, we can now leave the house! 2 hours after my 'start time'!

The Politician is merrily playing a computer game. I want to smack the hat off his head and force him to shave his legs, but I don't. We just don't have the time.

A couple weeks ago I finally got fed up with it. I decided I was going to rock my yoga pants, throw my hair in a pony tail, go without make-up and throw caution to the wind.

As we're getting ready to leave for the day, the Dictator asked me "Momma, why do you look like Ursula today?" Ursula....the SEA WITCH from the Little Mermaid.

Sigh....back into the bathroom I go!