Thursday, December 22, 2005
Help, I feel schlumpy.

I collapsed into bed at 8:30 tonight (after finishing the daily portion of Tanya, hooray). However, Yaakov's snoring woke me up, so here I am.

I'm feeling kind of yucky about how I look these days. My sheitl needs to be washed. I feel very plain, and this saddens me.

The other day I was in Old Navy, needing some warm stuff for Srulik. They had all these cute shirts, and tsnius too. For some reason, I felt like it just wasn't "me." What, I can't be cute anymore?

Or today, I was in the mall playground with Srulik and Rivky.
Me = average religious lady: black skirt, black shoes, fried-cat hair. In walks this woman, looking very fabulous. Firstly, her sheitl was great. (Nothing makes a frum woman feel worse than when everyone else's sheitl looks better.) Secondly, she had fabulous shoes. I have basically 2 pairs: black, brown and comfortable. Very practical. I felt positively drab compared to her.

Or tonight, for instance. I had to be at a school meeting, and there was a lady from my community selling jewelery. Shiny, sparkly, very fashionable. Now, this was never my style, even when I was frei and fabulous (ha ha). But that's not my point here. I looked at all her baubles and felt like I couldn't pull them off. Because I've become plain.

The last time I felt so low about my appearance was when I was post-partum with Rivky. One of my young, unmarried friends said to me, "You can be anybody you want, and look however you want." I guess it's true, but my practicality won't let me. You have to be a little frivolous to be a little fabulous (and I'm not knocking it).

I think another aspect is the women I really admired from my Brooklyn ghetto. Like my mashpia, for example (whom I miss and have not spoken to in a million years). She had tons of money, not that you would ever know. Everything about her was modest and simple, right down to her house. Or my old landlady - G-d bless her - with 11 kids. This woman is amazing, so fine and frum. Did she care a whit about fashion? Not hardly.

I don't want you to think I'm walking around looking bedraggled or unkempt. Or even bad, for that matter. I'm not. I'm just plain.

Yaakov keeps tchepping me about what I want for our upcoming anniversary:

I want to be fabulous.


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