When I get up in the morning I fall out of bed having had
too little sleep, shuffle through a mountain of washing in the semi darkness
and try to put together something that won’t get me fired from my job for
looking like a hobo or a hooker.
By the time I walk out of the door, the triumph of positive
mental attitude means that I have persuaded myself that I am a poster girl for working
mamas everywhere.
My confidence oozes out of every pore as I walk down the
street, my stride long and purposeful as I pass shop fronts and check out my reflection.
Then I get into work and look in the mirror.
That’s when I realise I have baby spit all over my shoulder
and crusty cereal residue on my cuff.
I am wearing odd socks and pants that
come up further than my trousers.
The hanging loops of my cardi are flapping
and the hair that looked so cute at home has exploded into fluff.
Now, stuck at work with no access to clothes or hair-dryer, I
have to become a master fixer upper, an ignorer of imperfections, a carry on regardlesser.
I am working mama, hear my slightly second hand roar.
Oh , that's bad!! At least you are freshly showered under all that mess, right??!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely!! In some ways that actually makes it worse though, the phrase "putting lipstick on a pig" springs to mind ;)
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