Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Dignity? Pssh! Ain't nobody got time for that!

Before kids I recall being one of the "prissiest" people there was. Til this day I'm known to be the perfectionist. The girly one. The Puerto Rican Betty Crocker and a kinder, tanner, Latina version of Martha Stewart. Although I may be girly and a little bit (a lot) O.C.D...

Who are they kidding???

Can you imagine Martha Stewart spread out on her belly at IKEA trying with no success to reach the sippy cup that rolled deep under a display rack? That's the exact position I found myself in a couple days ago. My fellow shoppers walking around and stepping over my limbs. A few of them flashing me the stank eye as my little one ran in a circle around me chiming "Uh-Oh!"
I was tossing and turning the night before at 4am to get up early and try to do something productive. I started my day off at IKEA... black circles and bags under my eyes.. Hair flying into my mouth... toddler by the hand hoping she wouldn't take advantage of the freedom she had outside of the cart. I was just much too tired to give a damn what I looked like much less give a shit if people stare. (Which they did.)

A few days prior to that, I was making a grocery run at Target. I was shopping for over an hour before it was brought to my attention...

Cashier: ::Clears throat:: Umm.. ma'am... you've got something on your... ::Points at my butt::

I look over at my butt as I bent into my cart reaching for groceries... and there it is... A huge, highlighter green sticker flailing around wildly off the side of my ass with the words "Boogie Bucks" on it. Well, now it wasn't my milkshake bringing the boys to the yard. I rip it off...

Hey. It's a Boogie Buck. I can probably use this. I tuck the Boogie Buck in my baby bag.

Cashier: A Boogie what?! As he fights his laughter.

A Boogie Buck. From my kids boogar wipes. I continue to go about my business.

Oh man! That's the most hilarious thing ever! Your baby gave you a sticker! The cashier laughing hysterically.

Happens everyday.

Sometime before this I went to the gym for the first time EVER. I felt legit ya know. A grown up out and away from anything and everything kiddy to do a grown up thing. I pull my ice cold water bottle out of my bag only to find myself scraping crushed cookie crumbs, Cheerios and a Stop and Shop receipt off of my sweating water bottle in the womens locker room. Three hardcore gym monkey chicks standing nearby watching.

I'm going to blame this newfound shamelessness on the birth of my first daughter. Something about having your vagina on display for a video camera, your momma, your new husband, your cousin, HER momma, the doc, rotating nurses, my mother-in-law and ALL those who developed the pictures taken on that lovely day at my local Walmart where I showed my face every other day certainly has a way of stripping you of your dignity. Being asked by nurses and doctors at any given moment in front of my visitors and my then husband (who in ten years didn't know girls farted or pooped) about the color of my poop, my cracked nipples and whether or not and how often I'm passing gas makes is mighty difficult to get embarrassed at much of anything.

This is the newfound mentality that allowed me to DARE and take my first Zumba class. I looked a lost, uncoordinated MESS. Arms and legs flying in the opposite direction of the instructors... My shimmy looked a little more like a seizure. But I had fun and I accomplished something that day.
I walked outta of the gym that day with my shameless dignity.

It's the same shamelessness that allowed me to buy and wear shorts very recently for the first time in years.

It's the reason I'm able to wear a bathing suit in public and still feel good about myself.

Ya know? I gotta make sure to thank my daughter some day.


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