Just wanna share this article from Yahoo. I kinda feel like where in the same shoes. I also have a handsome 7 month old baby and sometimes (err... most of the times) I feel like I've been being "losyang" na even if i'm just 21 y/o. Anyways, here is the article! Enjoy! -bettibot
Beauty is in the eye of the baby
By Toni Tiu – July 20th, 2010
Home Grown by Toni Tiu
Special to Yahoo! Southeast Asia
There was hardly any time to brush my hair, so once my lunch hour hit, I ran to the mall. My morning is usually filled with meetings, the every-three-hours-pump-milk-for-the-baby breather, and more meetings. Lunch hour is no me-time, either, as I use it to catch up on baby-related errands.
That’s what I was doing that Monday when I ran into her.
I had just finished shopping for baby food, baby wipes and disposable diapers. Two shopping bags weighed my arms down. My hair was a mess, answering a big, obvious “YES” to anyone who dared ask: “Mahangin ba sa labas?” My shirt was rumpled. My eyeglasses were slipping down my nose. I was walking fast, a messy blur, anxious to get out of the mall and grab something to eat before the second part of the work day began.
Why’d I even go out in such a messy state anyway? One answer: Limited lunch hour, limited errand time. Goodbye five minutes of putting on make-up; hello five more minutes of comparing whether lentils have more nutritional value than winter squash. Besides, I didn’t think I’d bump into anyone I’d know. Or even if I did, I was sure they wouldn’t recognize me. I was wrong.
On my way out of the mall, I ran into an old high school friend. She was impeccably dressed. “Toni!” she shrieked. I turned around, pushed my glasses up my nose and imagined myself bolting for the store exit. Her hair was perfect. Not a single strand was out of place. Her make-up? Perfectly applied. Her skin? Flawless. Gone was the oily complexion we lamented about in our teens. Her clothes were wrinkle-free, her shoes to die for. Best of all, she had a beautiful smile on her face. She was glowing.
We made small talk while I tried to smooth out the creases of my shirt with my wrist. Awkward! Remember, I was holding two elephantine grocery bags. Over the five-minute conversation, I found out she too had a little boy and was a career woman. How come she looked so perfect, I silently yelled. Oh yeah, I was crying on the inside. Nah, I’m kidding. Well, maybe just a little.
The feeling of insecurity lasted the whole afternoon. It disappeared however as soon as I got home. My nine-month-old son was playing with his toys when he saw me come into the room. His eyes lit up so beautifully. He dropped his toys, gave me a huge, toothless grin, and began to crawl towards me. There I was with my messy hair, crooked glasses and rumpled shirt, and I felt like the most beautiful person on earth.
As my son smothered me with his baby kisses, my heart lifted. I’m beautiful to this little boy, I thought. That’s all that matters. When your son looks at you with those eager eyes, it feels like you can conquer anything. Every insecurity is squished. Every strand of messy hair makes sense.
I try to remember my son’s welcoming look when I’m feeling insecure about myself. Balancing beauty and being a new mom is a toughie. I’ll figure this out along the way. Maybe I should start buying wrinkle-free shirts. And maybe, just maybe, I should brush my hair before stepping out.
Special to Yahoo! Southeast Asia
There was hardly any time to brush my hair, so once my lunch hour hit, I ran to the mall. My morning is usually filled with meetings, the every-three-hours-pump-milk-for-the-baby breather, and more meetings. Lunch hour is no me-time, either, as I use it to catch up on baby-related errands.
That’s what I was doing that Monday when I ran into her.
I had just finished shopping for baby food, baby wipes and disposable diapers. Two shopping bags weighed my arms down. My hair was a mess, answering a big, obvious “YES” to anyone who dared ask: “Mahangin ba sa labas?” My shirt was rumpled. My eyeglasses were slipping down my nose. I was walking fast, a messy blur, anxious to get out of the mall and grab something to eat before the second part of the work day began.
Why’d I even go out in such a messy state anyway? One answer: Limited lunch hour, limited errand time. Goodbye five minutes of putting on make-up; hello five more minutes of comparing whether lentils have more nutritional value than winter squash. Besides, I didn’t think I’d bump into anyone I’d know. Or even if I did, I was sure they wouldn’t recognize me. I was wrong.
On my way out of the mall, I ran into an old high school friend. She was impeccably dressed. “Toni!” she shrieked. I turned around, pushed my glasses up my nose and imagined myself bolting for the store exit. Her hair was perfect. Not a single strand was out of place. Her make-up? Perfectly applied. Her skin? Flawless. Gone was the oily complexion we lamented about in our teens. Her clothes were wrinkle-free, her shoes to die for. Best of all, she had a beautiful smile on her face. She was glowing.
We made small talk while I tried to smooth out the creases of my shirt with my wrist. Awkward! Remember, I was holding two elephantine grocery bags. Over the five-minute conversation, I found out she too had a little boy and was a career woman. How come she looked so perfect, I silently yelled. Oh yeah, I was crying on the inside. Nah, I’m kidding. Well, maybe just a little.
The feeling of insecurity lasted the whole afternoon. It disappeared however as soon as I got home. My nine-month-old son was playing with his toys when he saw me come into the room. His eyes lit up so beautifully. He dropped his toys, gave me a huge, toothless grin, and began to crawl towards me. There I was with my messy hair, crooked glasses and rumpled shirt, and I felt like the most beautiful person on earth.
As my son smothered me with his baby kisses, my heart lifted. I’m beautiful to this little boy, I thought. That’s all that matters. When your son looks at you with those eager eyes, it feels like you can conquer anything. Every insecurity is squished. Every strand of messy hair makes sense.
I try to remember my son’s welcoming look when I’m feeling insecure about myself. Balancing beauty and being a new mom is a toughie. I’ll figure this out along the way. Maybe I should start buying wrinkle-free shirts. And maybe, just maybe, I should brush my hair before stepping out.
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