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Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Are You a Shlumpadinka?

Schlumpadinka
Well Glory Be!  I'm a Shlumpadinka.    I'm not so sure that I'm proud of it, but hey, with a house filled with 6 people and 2 dogs all of the time, I'm lucky to have time to shower, much less look like I just had an Oprah Makeover by all the most fabulous stylists and makeup artists in the country. 

I've seen today's show before, and happened to see the tail end of it again today when my hubby turned on the television to watch the news.  I had the same thought I do every time I see an Oprah makeover - "When is she going to call me and give me one?."  I'm not big on watching television.  To tell you the truth, I hate watching television.  I'd rather read, or take a nap, or clean my kitchen.  I do have TIVO however, in the event I feel so inclined to watch a favorite show like Oprah.  In this case, Oprah was doing her part to make all of us Shlumpadinkas feel like Shlumps.

  I love Oprah, but really, I am not going to get up, shower, fix my hair, put on my makeup, dress to the nines, in heels, to do the laundry, slave over a hot stove, homeschool my children, clean the kitchen - you get the picture.  Would you?  If I have to run an errand, I'll get dressed and throw on the convenient baseball cap to hide my bad-hair day, and my idea of dressed is a pair of shorts or sweats with a t-shirt.  But if I have to run my children to a piano lesson 5 minutes from my home in the country?  Nope - if I've been busy in my pajamas, in my pajamas I will stay, and take the kids to piano, praying the entire way that I'm not in an accident.  God forbid.  Clean underwear time. 

Yes I'm pathetic.  I have succeeded in turning into my mother - only worse.  At least she gets dressed in the morning.  I used to be magnificent. (I say this with a smirk)  Completely, totally, gloriously pretty.  Big blue eyes, long dark hair, flawless complexion, 5'8" and 104 lbs with long skinny legs and a body to make Julia Roberts snicker.  That was 20 years ago.  It's been all down hill since.   I'm now almost 3 inches shorter and 3 inches wider in most parts.  I still have pretty feet, though.

I remember asking my mother how she could go 2 days without a shower and not be disgusted with herself.  I used to say "Don't you care about yourself? Don't you want to make yourself look nice and attractive in the event John Travolta comes for dinner?"  She ignored me - totally. 

  I would say stuff like "I'll never stop taking care of myself.  I will always shower every morning and fix my hair, and put on my makeup, and shave my legs, and file my nails.  I will never let myself go."   And then it happens, the dreaded change of priorities in our life - husband, children, pets, housework, gardening, mowing the lawn, writing a blog.  Lord knows I don't have time to care about my nails or my hair!  And it's true. 

When I said those things to my mother I was wrapped up in myself and lookin' good.  I mean, I wanted to look clean, fresh, feminine, attractive.  I wanted to look beautiful.  Now?  Huh?  What a sad state of affairs getting older has on our beauty and our brain.  Priorities change, life goes on.  Exterior beauty is not the end all to end all.  At least I hope not or I am in for a world of hurt. 

I suppose I can make myself look decent if I am going to dinner with my hubby or we are having friends over, but I'll be the first to admit I need a makeover.  I have completely lost my way.  I don't know how to dress anymore.  I have no clue how to fix my hair anymore.  My makeup is hardly  noticeable, and I don't exercise - unless you call running up and down stairs a hundred times a day and pushing a vacuum exercise. 

So I am asking the reflective question.  If you are a SAHM, do you make yourself beautiful every day or do you hang out in your pajamas to do your housework?  I have nothing but the utmost of respect for those women who can pull themselves together with ease and look fabulous at the drop of a hat, but I am not one of those women anymore.  It takes me twice as long to look twice as bad. 

Tell me your story.  Have your priorities changed?  Do you live in your pajamas?  Are you a Shlumpadinka?

Susan


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