There are no ugly women. Just lazy ones.

My mom used to say, “There are no ugly women, just lazy ones.”  She said her mom used to say that to her.  My mom said a lot of things I didn’t really understand when I was a kid (“If you don’t stop crying I’m going to give you something to cry about”, “Haste makes waste”, “One good sweep is worth nine good washes”), but in my adult life they’ve all become clear.  My mom has never been what I would call “trendy” but she has always taken great care with her appearance.  As early as I can remember she was up before we were, curling her hair and putting on her make-up.  She says there are days before I can remember where she’d be driving all five of us kids to drop off the older three at school with her hair in rollers and her slippers on.  I’m not sure if I believe her.  I know it’s important to my mom to not be one of those lazy women who become ugly by default.

I think of this saying as I catch sight of myself in the rearview mirror backing out of the driveway to pick up my son from school.  It’s not a pretty sight.  Sometimes it goes beyond mere laziness into the unhygienic as I try to remember if I’ve brushed my teeth yet that day.  Sigh.  Raising four kids so close in age has taken its tool on my ability to be a not-lazy woman when it comes to my appearance.  I try to imagine how early I’d have to get up to undo the damage done by the sleepless nights and exhausted days and then I realize I’d just be more sleepless and exhausted if I tried.

So I got a little huffy with my friend the other day who complained about the “uniform” she noticed when she was out to dinner with her husband the other night.  She said all the ladies our age were wearing jeans, boots, fancy shirts and a scarf.  She wondered when we all got so boring and lazy.  Why don’t we wear the cute things the college girls are wearing?  Why do we have to get comfortable and stop trying?

Trendy Ladies, I don’t understand.  I am so thankful if I look around a restaurant and notice I’m wearing something that vaguely resembles what the other women around me from my decade are wearing.  I’ve always shopped to try and flatter my body, which may or may not mean I’m in style at any particular time.  I just thought at some point it would be okay to age gracefully.  Why won’t society let me age gracefully?!

I see it screaming at me from a magazine cover–40 is the new 30!  Why can’t I just turn 40 and not feel like I still need to be youthful and trendy and out partying?  Why can’t 40 just be 40?  I see articles about how just because you’re a mom doesn’t mean you can’t wear a bikini or can’t rock a miniskirt or can’t wear leggings as pants. . . Apparently some people don’t know that was one of the draws of being a mom for some of us.  Seriously, I can only think of one thing that might embarrass my son more than me showing up at his school in my current outfit–if I’d tried to pick him up in a miniskirt.

I’m so thankful to finally be comfortable in my own skin.  It’s a sad irony of life that when we’re the most beautiful (late high-school/college) is also when we’re the most self-conscious.  I was truly convinced I had a “weight problem” and only found solace in eating salads for lunch.  Sad days, indeed.  I probably could have gotten away with some lipgloss and a ponytail, but I would spend an inordinate amount of time straightening my curly hair and covering up the natural beauty we all posses at that age.  Ridiculous.

So now that I’m finally okay (emotionally and psychologically) with lipgloss and a ponytail I’m getting the vibe that I’ve got to try harder to work against all that is natural about my body.  I spend enough of my day mediating fights without working against myself.  I’m not saying I’m going to be wearing my pajamas out in public any time soon.  I want to be attractive to my husband.  I want to carry myself with dignity and grace.  I just want to stop having to try so hard to fight gravity and my age and my actual weight (not my driver’s licenses weight).  I don’t want our youth-obsessed culture to come for me as I continue to age.  I want them to leave me alone.  Let the twenty-somethings spend their money on the latest fad.  I’m saving up so my kid can spend a week at summer camp (a beauty treatment for me if there ever was one).  College girls, feel free to brave the sub-zero midwestern temperatures in those tiny skirts and leggings, but I have realized it isn’t worth it to me.  I really like being warm.  A lot.

Here’s what I want:

1) To let my hair go whatever color it wants to go on whatever timetable it likes.

2) To wear clothes I like that keep me the right temperature for the season and allow me to take care of my kids without being hindered.

3) For my kids to know their daddy thought their mommy was beautiful.  Always.

4) To not spend time literally and figuratively naval-gazing when it comes to the changes that happen to my body through the natural aging process.

5) To not be a lazy woman in my choices (appearance-related or otherwise), although it is tempting.

6) To be defined by my character.

7) To cultivate a community of love and acceptance in both my friends and my children that gives them the freedom to not focus on externals.

Who’s with me?