Since leaving high school and attending post-secondary school at the age of 18, I have, more often than not, been the youngest person in my close knit group of friends. Sometimes by gaps of four years or more. It’s really not been something I spend too much time on until it’s brought up; for example, in conversation or I’m outright asked and the resulting reaction is something along the lines of: Holy shit, you’re only (insert age here)?! But in all honesty, I really don’t care if you’re 2, 5, 8, or 50 years older than me (or younger for that matter. But 50 years younger? That may be a little um, weird) if you’re a friend to me, I am a friend to you.
When I’m feeling overly sensitive (sometimes) and utterly emo (always) I wonder if maybe people think because I am younger my opinions don’t matter or they feel I have nothing to offer to a conversation because my life experiences are assumed to be less than comparable to theirs. I, the completely irrational person I am, don’t realize that: a) many are likely oblivious to my age and just assume I am older. (Yes, I obviously have an issue with self-esteem. I know this.) or b) they really don’t give a shit about me or my age in the first place. But they should care! Why don’t they care!? No one likes me! WAAAAAAAH! Also? See item a), parentheses 1.
So I’m a little lot self conscious and care far too much what people think of me. I’m working on it. As I have been my entire life.
And as self conscious as I get for being the youngest in the group, I also think, Wait a minute, why are you so shocked that I’m “only” 28? Do I look older? OMG, I LOOK OLD!
It’s really a vicious circle.
Then last week? That circle? It came to a crashing, back breaking halt. Straight into a brick wall of OLD.
In my defense, I spent majority of the week sleeping off some stomach bug I got from the kids. I showered and went to work on the Friday but with little make-up and my hair pinned back: low maintenance. I had to go to our sister company to pick up some project related paper work and while I was there I was chatting with a few of of my former co-workers, one of the guys, whom I used to joke around with a lot, commented, “Holy Sam! Look at you! You look… like a MOM.”
I LOOK LIKE A MOM!?
A MOM?!
Does Mom equal OLD?!
Because I’M NOT OLD!!
One of the ladies turned to face him and informed him “that wasn’t very nice” , while I, in my true colourful form told him he was “such a douchebag.” I wasn’t offended per say, I don’t really offend all that easy, but as I thought about it over the weekend I couldn’t quite pin point what about that comment irked me so much. It’s not like it was a lie, I am a mom. A mom to two beautiful, wonderful little boys. I am a parent. I love having children.
The thought of looking like a mom has me visualizing Mom Jeans, plaid shirts and Keds. I think of women losing their (our) self image and conforming to this uniform and lifestyle that strictly revolves around the children. I think of unkempt hair swept back in pony tails, no make-up and stained clothes. Immediately I felt shame wash over me. Have I fallen so far down the rabbit hole that I give the indication I no longer care about my outward appearance? OMG, I’M A MOM!!!
Yet, I’ve worn that uniform, and I know that’s not a mom. I KNOW. It just happens to be easy and comfortable and realistic most of the time, but it’s not a mom. No outfit, be it from a discount chain store or a high end boutique, makes a mom. A mom is that woman who plays; gets down on the floor with trucks, barbies or what have you. She takes them to playdates, swimming lessons, doctors appointments and soccer games. A mom makes lunches, dinners, draws a bath a scrubs the dirt and grim from their little fingers. A mom comforts and soothes, loves and adores. Being a mom is NOTHING to be ashamed of, no matter if she works outside the home or in it.
I? Am a mom.
I? Am not ashamed.
I? Am, however, updating my wardrobe.
Kelly says:
Ok, I MAY have cried a little when this happened. I went to my son’s high school to retrieve his confiscated cell phone. My son is 15. I, am 31. I brought my brother’s girlfriend with me, who is 22. The secretary at the main office looked at me funny when I asked for the Assistant Principal’s office – she then responded “your daughter should know where it is”. Ahem… this is the same girl that I hang out with at the bar. She’s only 9 years younger than me!!!! And yes, I realized that this bitch (I mean secretary) assumed that my 22 year old friend was a high school student, and technically I AM the parent of a high school student. But still. I cried. And I love to get ID’ed at the liquor store or bar, I really do. Anytime after your 23rd birthday it changes from being insulting to being complimentary.
January 26th, 2010 at 11:17 pm
Karen Sugarpants says:
we need a girl date in your town, where the shopping is better.
January 27th, 2010 at 12:55 pm
Laural says:
Okay. Just to point out, since we live pretty close, the “mom” uniform around me seems to be lululemons, the name necklaces (disks with your kids names) and a coach purse. So, that’s not such a bad look.
But, I hear what you’re saying.
I get the comment at work “what? You have kids?” because I guess I’m a young mom around my office. But, I also think it’s because of my actions. So tough.
I’m proud to be a mom, but when someone called me a MILF I got pissed .
samantha Reply:
January 27th, 2010 at 9:43 pm
Ya. Um. I could totally go for a Lululemon and Coach uniform. I’m just not that lucky. LOL AND! Because of that I blend in even less. WAAAAAAH! LOL
January 27th, 2010 at 2:22 pm
Suzy Voices says:
You need to be a little easier on yourself! You were sick and in the comfort zone. But any excuse to update my wardrobe is a good one, so I’m going to go with that too.
January 27th, 2010 at 4:43 pm
Issa says:
I think that about other women sometimes…it’s more the frazzled, bags under eyes, doing twelve things at one time and mainlining caffeine though, more than clothes.
January 30th, 2010 at 2:11 pm
Kellee says:
I just turned 29 (at the time was 28), and was given the student admission into my sister’s volleyball game. I was with my mother. She is only 20 years older than I am, and absolutely radiant. Me? I have HEAD FULL of grey hair. I have eye wrinkles. I am tired, ALL OF THE TIME. And they thought I was a highschool kid. HILARIOUS. And kind of insulting, on some levels, to obviously appear that unsophisticated that day (Or maybe it was just the adult acne).
So it doesn’t really feel great, whichever way it swings.
You are you. He probably just meant that you looked like a mom because you might have looked a little tired (from being sick – and what mom doesn’t???), and because you were being so low-maintenance, as most mom’s insist on being.
I think you’re awesome-sauce either way.
Also? I’m catching up on my poor, abandoned reader that I haven’t touched in several weeks. So you’ll likely received a bunch of comments from me tonight as I catch up.
January 31st, 2010 at 1:26 am
Unplanned Cooking says:
I know what you mean! We went to a party on Saturday night, and I felt like the mom in the room. How did that happen?
February 1st, 2010 at 12:05 pm
Maria of MM says:
I’m 25 and often get mistaken as my 6-month old son’s “really tired-looking teenage sister.” I’m not really sure what to make of this, but it sure as hell doesn’t make me happy!
February 6th, 2010 at 10:32 am