As I sit here at Marvelous Market, alternately reviewing government documents that will continue to make my life hell for the next two months, facebooking, tweeting, and emailing what feel, like long-lost-friends, I'm in the Doldrums. Not the naval phenomenon, and not those Milo runs across in his wacky literary adventures (gold star if you get the reference), but the I-haven't-showered-or-washed-or-cut-my-hair-and-hate-everything-in-my-closet kind.
Part of it, if you've been following my tweets, is that I've been working ridiculous hours. I miss my kids and H, we have no food cooked in the house (popchips and Masala Art takeout are staples right now), and the last thing on my mind is putting together a reasonable outfit, let alone putting on makeup. I know better. I know that, if I've been working all night, haven't slept, and need to keep focusing, that showering, putting on makeup, and at minimum a coordinated outfit without babyfood stains will make me feel better. I learned that a long time ago, from a dear friend whom I will purposefully never see again. You've heard me say all this before, I know.
Part of it is that I've gained weight. A lot. I've matched my highest, pre-wedding (not baby-induced) weight. Which is not a good thing. I'd lost weight after Bean #2, but then gained it back. Eating like a pig and indulging as comfort...well, not helpful. I haven't made it to any kind of workout or yoga class in months. (I ran into my yoga teacher from last semester at Politics & Prose last week. She was, as every yoga instructor I've ever encountered is, kind, patient, and understanding. Which doubled my guilt at not going.) Nothing in my closet fits except for my "fat pants" and two pair of beloved LOFT cordorouy pants that fit like blessed gloves and miraculously don't make me feel like a sausage.
The last part is that I just don't have time. I don't have time to shop. I don't have time to iron. I don't have time to drop and pick up drycleaning on the 3 things I own that make me feel good. So I don't. I feel like crap because I can't be bothered. I haven't even bothered to wear my favorite shoes (lillybees, I'm lookin' at you, kids) because my months-old pedicure is so nasty that I can't even fake it under fishnets in peeptoes. So I wear my grey booties daily. Which is all fine and good in icky weather, but when the sun starts to peek out and buds (or bugs, as The Bean calls them) are flirting with breaking through their barked cocoons, grey ankle booties just won't cut it.
So I'm slowly plotting my return. Slowly, people. I can't take more than that. What's the plan, you ask? Well, it's been underway for a leeetle bit. And I'll keep you posted, but here we go...
1) Go out in public with real clothes and talk to non-work people. Check. I went to last week's launch of Jill Kargman's hilarious (laughed out loud during my bathroom reading) Sometimes I Feel Like a Nut at ginger. I squeezed myself into a girdle (let's face it, it's not a "shaper"), put on tights, lillybees, a dress (crazy, but now I can't even remember which one), and a vintage astrakhan coat from my MIL. I chatted with Jill, the incomparable Babsie D, and a lovely writer I've met before. Just three people, but they were people.
2) Get a haircut. Almost check. I see Jae today at 3pm.
3) Buy new shoes. Since I'm not happy with my body, I can play with my feet fashion. Almost check. Taking The Bean with me to the Georgetown simplysoles outpost today.
4) Get healthy. Ok. That's a much longer term one, but I'll get there. And if you have it in your hearts to help me, reminding me along the way, I'll take whatever support I can get.
5) Buy a few pieces I love NOW. Not for the future healthy me, but for the Rubenesque, Now Me. First stop: March 29 DSS.
6) Keep going. Even when I'm distracted or have relapses into UnshoweredWorld, I will get. back. on. the. wagon.
And I'll kiss the Doldrums goodbye.