No Longer Dateable?

Today’s post is compliments of a guest blogger…the inimitable Kelsey Keller. Like our family, Kelsey and her family are graduates of the Royal Columbian Hospital NICU. For a more steady supply of Kelsey’s antics and ramblings, visit Kelsey Keller dot com. Without further ado, here is a taste of Kelsey’s ramblings.

When Stacey asked me if I wanted to guest blog on his ‘Papa Blog’ I was filled with a number of feelings: excitement, bewilderment, oh-my-god-what-am-I-going-to-write-about-ment, and finally impairment (care of Alexander Keith). It was in that slightly impaired state that I realized that I could in fact do this. I could, and would, guest blog. It would be, in essence, a first with Stacey’s followers.

I have been on first dates before, albeit not for the past 12 years, and I vaguely remember the protocol of how to make a good first impression. “Great,” I thought, “I have a game plan.” I went to bed but lay awake taking stock of my flaws and charms, and realized this first impression thing was easier 12 years ago.

This morning when I woke up I revisited my first date idea. I grabbed my homemade version of a ‘venti sugar-free-vanilla non-fat Americano misto’ from the counter, walked into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and took in my reflection. It looked back at me, slightly less perky, and frighteningly more aged, than I had expected, and smiled. “Okay,” I though to myself, “let’s start at the top and work our way down.”

My hair screams ‘I haven’t been washed in 2 days!” It is lifeless, lackluster, and pulled back off my face into a messy bun type creation. A post-natal fringe of tiny hairs growing in every direction frames my face. No one warned me about this, I was wholly unprepared for it. Bah! Moving on.

My forehead is wrinkled. Badly wrinkled. I don’t remember when it happened, but there it is, staring back at me in the mirror. My eyebrows, which used to be neatly shaped, look like two huge dead caterpillars that someone glued to my face. The dark bags under my eyes have morphed into giant black suitcases filled with the memories of 14 sleepless months. My glasses sit crooked, scratched, and covered in tiny fingerprints. The lines around my mouth have deepened, no doubt from all the smiling Kahlen induces, and my lips are chapped.

My body has been transformed. Each day another body party falls victim to the game ‘Sag! Your it!’ and my clothes never seem to fit the way they used to. I bulge where I used to be flat, and sag where I used to bulge.

I take another long draw from my coffee, and catch my mugs reflection in the mirror. It reads “World’s Best Mom”. Then Kahlen, with her impeccable sense of timing, calls for me from her crib “hah-low mumum….hah-low… up, up , mumum…”.

I realize in that moment that I am no longer dateable. I am a mother to a young child. I have given up my previous identity. The young, put together, perky, and self involved me is gone. I put my child first and it shows.  The past 14 months have taken their toll on my appearance. I doubt anyone would want to date this (thank goodness I’m already married)… unless, of course, they wanted someone to laugh at… hmmm….maybe people will date me after all…. I think its called a ‘pity date”… which is fitting because the way I looked this morning was seriously pitiful!

1 Comment

  1. Great post, Kelsey! As many of us do, I have selected that the myriad stacks of pics in ‘My Pictures’ file pop up on my computer screen as screensavers.

    Due to the sheer number of snaps, my wedding pics come up with the most aggravating frequency. *Gasp* I see this beautiful, young, carefree girl with small waist, clear skin and hair impeccably curled in a sophisticated updo. Um, yeah…that WAS me…pre-twins.

    Now my goal is to be out of PJs by noon, showered every three days ideally, shaved, well let’s be generous and say once every 2 weeks, when hubby’s hand runs over my legs and he murmurs “bubba?” (the much maligned in this blog orange cat)

    But then take this morning, when Story finds it endlessly hilarious to put a plastic cup over her face and breathe deeply into it,a la Darth Vader (over and over and over again) – mommy, daddy, sis and Story all laughing at how funny she finds something so mundane…and I stroke my dreadlocks and know I have the most beautiful life in the world.

    (And make-up & a good waxing can fix anything)

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