Wednesday, 22 January 2020

Passport Photos are the actual worst.

There's nothing like having to renew a passport to really show the passing of time. And there's nothing like a passport photo to show just how much you've aged in that time.

I got my last passport so Shane could take me to New York for my 21st.

We visited America, Spain and Thailand and moved to England on that passport.
We had 3 children and bought/ sold two houses.
We spent a year apart, and moved back to Ireland.

Now with an impending 'big birthday', and the kids a little older I'm starting to look at me again. All the girls I went to school with are turning 30 and look amazing in the photos.
The only photos I have of me are selfies stuck under the kids. And this dammed passport photo.

I look like a bloated convict.
There has to be a way to get a nicer passport photo, because I physically can't look at this for the next 10 years.

I've always tried to be body positive, and celebrate my curvy frame. Remembering a time I was a finalist for Simply Be and time presenting and my stints as a plus sized model on TV, but that was over a decade ago, and to look at that girl I don't recognise her in me anymore.

I'm too young to say I've let myself go, but that's exactly how I feel. I eat fairly ok, I exercise regularly, I work, I get involved in the community, but all I can see when I look in the mirror is a tired, over-weight burden.

I've spoken to Shane recently about how he hasn't changed that much since having the kids. And what has changed is hailed as a 'DadBod', in the media.

Women have a much different landscape to deal with. We give up our entire physical appearance. Inside too, when we have kids. Things change, they feel different. You look so different too. And we have the fix it. Constantly bombarded with fad diets, bootcamps, pills.
And it's not just shit you can see. We're reminded it feels different for our partners after we've had babies too so we need to do kegals and keep down there tidy.
Fuck off!
The "get your body back" tag line is everywhere. I'm sorry but that body doesn't exist any more!

For all the time I spend
'swimming', with the kids
I don't know when I last
did an actual stroke! 
I know that logically, but it didn't help when Daithí grabbed my belly when I was getting us dressed after swimming yesterday, shook it with both hands and said 'why is your belly so wiggly Mammy', I wanted the ground to swallow me up, but I managed something about growing him and his brothers bal bla bla.

Buy I'm sorry, the thankless bullshit of motherhood isn't enough to make up for how much it's fucked my body up.

I've joked that my hair colour is a carefully constructed 'motherhood neglect', and that there's no point getting my nails done, they'll only get ruined. But the truth is, I feel guilty spending that much money on something that isn't necessary. I feel guilty having the kids minded for so long for something so frivolous. I feel guilty for prioritising how I look, when the house looks like a bomb hit it
 Every. Single. Day.

The rare few minutes of them being sweet to eachother, or the one off times they're actually really funny doesn't out weigh the constant needing, and whining, and whinging, and wanting, and fighting.

A typical school run

I don't have a profound or insightful message to end this on. I'm struggling to find the silver lining, or the positive spin. It's just a bit of a rant to throw out into the abis, cos I can't actually fit in a councillor session ATM, and I miss my friends so bloody much!! But is it too late to give up on this Motherhood milark, I don't think I'm cut out for it. It's not for me.

1 comment:

  1. I just cried because this is my life. No advice, but you're not alone xx