Chubby, Shiny, Old, Married, & Working On It!

So there I am, out with my girlfriends for the rare ladies’ night out. I’d taken all the appropriate steps to get ready for such an event—which as a mom of four included not only normal things like showering, but also extreme measures such as taking a nap in the afternoon. It had all sounded like such a great idea when we’d discussed it midday on Wednesday. Yet somehow, come Saturday night, it felt like a huge, exhausting project.

“Never mind,” I reprimanded myself. “You’ll feel better once you get there.” So I forced myself through the rigamarole of makeup, rustling up a “hot but not slutty” outfit, and driving to meet my friends at the club. Of course I was late because none of my clothes fit right, but never mind; I was out of the house and determined to maintain balance in my consumed-by-momminess life.

You may find it helpful to know that I grew up in New York City and that going out to crowded nightclubs is something that’s always been a fun activity for me. I love to dance and am accustomed to crowded places where everyone talks to each other, dances with each other, and no one thinks a thing about anything. In the past, I’ve had similar (though milder) experiences at nightclubs in North Carolina where I live now.

Working my way through people three-deep at the bar (smiling and assuming men would make room to let a lady in), I began my quest for a drink. No one moved.

Not to be discouraged, I tried a different spot. Still no progress. I got the feeling people were relating to me as if I were someone’s mom, perhaps left over from a work party earlier in the day. Or maybe a knitting group.

Once I finally got my drink, I met up with my girlfriends and enjoyed some chatty conversation for a while. No one approached us. It seemed kind of strange but didn’t matter because I was there to chat with them, not to pick up men. After all—I’m a married woman!

Apparently too married. And mommyish. Which became blatantly evident when I went out onto the dance floor (by myself, as my girlfriends didn’t want to dance and I don’t mind dancing alone. My experience has been that I would not be alone for long).

Three songs later, I was still dancing alone. Literally. Not one person… man, woman, short, tall, young, old, or otherwise, danced anywhere near my vicinity. In fact, it felt almost as if there were an invisible force field around me, causing me to look around and analyze the facial expressions of the crowd.

“What an adorable old lady,” I assumed they were thinking. “What a pig!” perhaps thought others. Is that what they really thought? I have no idea. Probably. Maybe. Perhaps not. In the end, it doesn’t matter because dancing by myself to three consecutive songs and having not a soul join me for the first time in my life equaled one conclusion in my mind: I’m fat, old, and look extremely mommyish & married.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being mommyish. When at a PTA meeting or, let’s say, doing things with my kids. But I like to think that I’m still able to get my sexy on when in a different environment. Apparently not. Anymore.

There’s also nothing wrong with being married. I love my husband and I love being married to him. But I’ve always been of the belief that being married doesn’t mean being dead. Or acting dead. Or being regarded as if I were the Old Lady in a Shoe.

Internally sighing, I headed to the ladies’ room to freshen up. It didn’t matter. Because as expected, I was extremely shiny. And not just from the dancing. No, this was not the “I’m sweating so I’m shiny” version of shiny. This was the “I’m always shiny and have no idea why” version. After blotting pointlessly at my shiny, old, fat, married nose with a paper towel, and applying face powder that made not one iota of difference, I went back to where my girlfriends were chatting and joined back in the conversation that surrounded the kids, bitching about men, and school logistics.

I would have really enjoyed another drink, but couldn’t because I was driving and I’m far too responsible for that. All in all, I’d have to say that it was a very un-fun night. A night that left me feeling far worse than if I’d just stayed home and watched a movie with my husband for free, in my house full of kids, none of whom care that I’m shiny, all of whom know that I’m chubby, and who think nothing of the overwhelming momminess/marriedness sides of me.

The good news is, I’m not a wallower. I’m a fixer. So the next day, I asked my best friend (whose face always looks immaculate and never looks shiny, not even after being at the gym) what she thinks I should do about my shininess. She recommended a new makeup which has worked like a charm. I wear it every day, am never shiny, and feel good about one problem being solved.

As for the chubbiness, I’ve purchased a treadmill and have started walking on it. Sometimes. More than before I had a treadmill, which has to be a step in the right direction.

As for being old and married? Well, not much I can do about that. I assume that once I feel neither chubby nor shiny, I’ll get some sexy back and that will counteract those aspects. Or not.

What do you think? Have you ever felt like this? If so, what have you done or how have you dealt with it?

If you enjoyed the style and humor of this article, you might also enjoy, “Apparently, I’m Old & Didn’t Even Know It.” You might also enjoy my novel, “Momnesia.”

Thanks for reading!