If I ever had a mojo, I think I’ve lost it
Britney, not at her finest moment.
Groove, mojo—whatever you want to call it, I fear I’ve lost it.
Perhaps forever, because I am not so sure I will be as lucky as Stella and get mine back. After all, how exactly does one go about getting their mojo back?
Does it require highlights, tanning beds, shopping sprees, Botox, and trips to the spa? If so, then my fate it sealed. My groove is gone. Forever.
For when you have two under two who has time to shop, soak, tan, and spend energy getting pretty. I’m in good shape if I get a shower everyday and remember to brush my teeth.
Not that long ago, I too was once a sprightly vogue youth full of vim and vigor. I look back with fondness on those days.
Now when I look in the mirror I find myself asking one question: “Am I losing it?”
I fear it’s more than a bad hair day. Well, it is that too.
I am in desperate need of a haircut, but sadly that won’t solve my problem. Thanks to pregnancy hormones I have new hair growing in place of the gobs I lost a few months ago. These sprouts on my crown would make Justin Beiber jealous. Oh, if only I were a seventeen year old boy.
And the ever-present dark circles I have lived with all these years seem to be expanding and taking over my face, which thanks to winter is currently pale and dry.
Furthermore, much to my dismay I have realized (now that I have started running a little) that I jiggle when I run. And although my clothes fit again, they don’t fit quite the same way. I guess muffintops follow the muffin… in the oven, that is.
All right, so I’m being slightly melodramatic.
I know, I know, I am my worst critic. That is unless you are a celebrity. In that case, everyone else is your worst critic. Good thing I’m just a stay at home mom and pictures of me in my pjs with makeup under my eyes and a ponytail will never surface.
Thankfully, these images will only be gingerly loved and cherished every morning by those closest to me.
So in struggling with my own mommy image crisis I find a glimmer of hope in none other than Britney Spears. If she can recover from a head-shaving weight-gaining marijuana-using multi-year gap in the music industry then surely, surely, I, like Stella, and so many before her, can get my groove back.
Well, maybe. If I can win a $5,000 shopping spree and hire a babysitter.
