New Moms

The New Mommy Dress Code^R10

Erin Fuentes

The first time I showed up to work wearing two different shoes was a clue as to how drastically life had altered. After the initial embarrassment brought on by my colleagues' discovery, I laughed. "Ah, I have finally arrived in the land of Mommyhood."

Many more wardrobe malfunctions occurred during the following weeks. A missing belt, lipstick on only the top half of my lips, mismatched earrings, and hair that was not brushed top the list of memorable moments.

My co-workers and I also laughed at my ingenious remedy for sleep deprivation. Five-minute power naps in my car, prior to work, became a higher priority than applying eye shadow in the mornings. Thankfully, sympathetic women would tap on my window to alert me that it was time for employee meetings.

My once pristinely manicured fingernails began to break as soon as all the nail polish chipped away. After wearing nail polish every day since middle school, I was surprised by the ugly color of stained yellow that was left underneath. When I prioritized the activities of daily living, I concluded that manicured nails were not as vital as meals, a paycheck, clean clothes and whatever sparse amount of sanity I had intact.

Somewhere between the sleepless nights and harried juggling of new lifestyle changes, I learned that there were many things I could do without. Instead of styling my hair each morning, a ponytail holder became my most beloved accessory. Clothes that required ironing or dry cleaning were donated to a local shelter for domestic abuse.

Along with fluctuating weight changes came my new best friend—pants with drawstrings. Sure, I was not an appealing sight for a while. However, my disheveled appearance allowed more time for what I truly craved—a little extra shut-eye before the alarm.

I once heard a woman commenting on her "placenta disease." She claimed that since childbirth she had not been able to think clearly due to the fact that half of her brain cells must have exited her body along with the placenta. Since I did not actually give birth to my child, I cannot blame physiological responses for the fact that I have been so preoccupied with the welfare of my little one that I once forgot to brush my teeth. (Thankfully, I worked with a part-time dental assistant who had spare tubes of toothpaste and a toothbrush.)

Nor can I ascertain that all people lose their minds and their sense of fashion when they have children. My husband, for instance, has never forgotten to button his shirt or worn two different colored shoes. So the answer must lie in the fact that, as women, we are wired differently. The men in our lives can happily scoot off to work with all their clothes perfectly coordinated despite the screaming children in tow. However, we sympathetic women want to do more than drop the children off at childcare. We want to find out why they are crying and somehow make it all better. Amidst the nose wiping, hugging, and comforting, we occasionally forget small items such as the car keys we locked in the house.

As the years have passed, my sleep has increased exponentially, along with my brain function. (However, my husband might disagree with the latter statement.) I've dusted off the high heels that were lying dormant in the back of my closet and started color coordinating again. The fast-food lunches I was consuming, in an effort to preserve time, have slowly been replaced by more healthy choices. I've even begun occasionally painting my nails, despite the fact that the polish does not last long due to increased amounts of laundry and dishes that necessitate hand scrubbing.

However, my empathy for other new moms is drastically altered. Now, when I see a fellow unkempt comrade doing battle in the frozen food section of the grocery store, I no longer muse, "What is she wearing?" Instead, I offer to pick up the teddy bear that was hurled face first onto the tile floor. Occasionally, my eyes meet my fellow sojourner's, and I give the smile that universally signifies, "It's going to be alright. I've been there, too."

(693 words)