I was invited to attend a meeting as a “mover and shaker” in the realm of social media. I was so honored/terrified. In addition to never finishing my degree, I have also never had a real job. Yes, I know, motherhood is a total real job. My mom pointed out that I am in charge of shaping the next generation. Funny, I thought I was just populating it. Still, as much as I am director of operations up in here, I doubt NASA is going to respond to my application.
Essentially this invite came my way at the request of a dear friend from Junior High. She and I became friends at the behest of her mom. I was the new kid in town and her mom made her reach out to me, and though I wore a giant Tweety Bird t-shirt, leggings, and a blossom hat and she wanted to die of seventh grader embarrassment, we became best buds. Every weekend we walked the mall for hours, recorded ourselves singing “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”, toilet papered David Butler’s house, and she taught me how to NOT wear a cartoon character t-shirt, leggings, and denim hats with fake flowers.
As I reflected on this invite and on my old friend I realized I had become the adult version of fashion no-nos. I wear a bandana on my head and no make up. I wear yoga pants and mom jeans. My mom jeans are not the slouchy fashion things that skinny shapeless gals wear. No. I FILL my jeans. With all my mom-awesomeness. The firefighter encouraged me to go shopping, and though I normally don’t shop until I am a little less doughy, this seemed like an emergency situation where concessions must be made.
I didn’t have a lot of time to shop because I have four kids. <—That sentence encompasses more than you have desire to read, and certainly more than I have emotional strength to relive. So I just grabbed a few things, including my very first pairs of Spanx.
Welp, I got home and tried on a pair. Still too much happening. So I double spanxed. Couple of things, if you aready have a larger than average caboose, buckle up. From what I can tell, they took every jiggly bit I have and redistributed it to my butt. A booty in Spanx is one that will be mistaken for a table and people will set their drinks on it. Also, while everything was squished into more socially acceptable places, I seriously could no longer feel if I was wearing a skirt or pants over them. The only thing my nerves could compute was the Spanx. I realized that traumatizing nightmare of finding oneself wearing only underwear in public is a real possibility whilst wearing Spanx. About the time I was realizing all of this, the firefighter came home and ogled my ridiculous new shape and I decided this was not for me. Good thing too, because I think i was moments away from passing out.
Still, I was reviewing everything I knew about professional-grown-up-type stuff so I tried on a black skirt, white blouse and heels. Provided no one asked me to sit, eat, or talk we would be fine. But seeing how this was a lunch social, that wasn’t going to fly. Friends and family encouraged me to be a bit more casual. I think they recognized that the skirt that was fitting me like a pencil skirt was actually manufactuared to be a flowy peasant skirt and they feared that I would put someone’s eye out when the button finally flew off to unleash my girth. All it would take was a sneeze..
So I dressed down and was super nervous as I took the elevator to this meeting. I knew they would all be in suits, with fancy hair, and pearls. I expected smoking and a martini bar. I figured they would be talking stock prices and vacation homes.
Then I walked in and realized this wasn’t an episode of Mad Men and I should listen to myself when I tell my children not to believe everything they see on television. And while my answer to “What do you do for a living?” is “Lactate.”, it was such an honor to be asked to be a part of something in my community because of my words. And super cautious/non-go getter that I am, I realized that it is not outside the realm of possibility for me to do something with my writing.
So, here it is. My name is Amber and I wanna be a writer.