Philadelphia, PA - We are all aware of the pressures teenagers and young women face daily, as they struggle to live up to the images of perfections they are bombarded with in fashion magazines. But those impossible goals are not limited to the young.  Older women are increasingly being subjected to ideals that defy the natural course of aging.  This seems especially true of older moms, thanks in part by the slangy term MILF, which in recent years has become the staple benchmark that determines whether a mom is “hot or not”.  But luckily, just when you think it can’t get any worse, we are seeing a new fashion trend emerge that represents a more realistic and healthy attitude towards aging and beauty.  Borrowing from the interior design term “shabby chic”, (where furniture is intentionally distressed for a look that is used and worn out, yet tasteful and distinguished) more and more women today are hailing themselves as the… 

FLABBY CHIC

Striving to be a MILF is becoming passe, according some local moms who are embracing their over 40 bodies without looking back in dismay. Take Momish, for example.  A few years ago, she was a slim size 4 and looked fabulous in clothes that reflected the latest fashion trends. Sporting form fitting outfits, Momish often shopped in the same stores as her teenage step daughters.  At that time, she would have done anything to keep her those nasty extra pounds and wrinkles at bay, from starvation to dangerous diet fads, to expensive anti-aging products. 

But these days, Momish is no longer oppressed by the mass media and public opinion, an opinion that all too often pigeon-holes teenagers, working women and older moms into maintaining impossible body proportions.  No, Momish and the other women over 40 like her, are breaking free!  Instead of looking towards all those waif-thin icons, they have found a new and bolder image to grab onto, one that they can realistically identify with, one which allows them to eat what they want without sacrificing self image or their fashion sense. 

“I just love the Flabby Chic look,” says Momish as she rips open a bag of cheese curls (having given up potato chips for lent, cheese curls are her latest comfort food).  Momish herself has managed to beef up over the last three years, thanks to being overworked and run ragged at home.  With increasing less hours in the day to herself, the idea of working out instead of vegging in front of the TV was starting to really take its toll.  “Now-a-days, I don’t worry about getting to the gym anymore.  After I finally get out of the office, I barely have enough time to get through dinner, bath time and finish my daily chores before I am ready to drop.  Adopting the Flabby Chic look has really helped me to enjoy those precious few minutes I have to myself without the torturous guilt and self loathing.  I also find I am more relaxed, thanks to being able to binge snack my way through especially stressful moments.”

But the best part about the Flabby Chic lifestyle is the chic part.  You don’t have to sacrifice style and grace just because you aren’t anorexic or the same weight you were at twenty-four.  Momish herself is on the fast track to becoming a solid size 8, having long ago handed down her size 4 clothes to her two step daughters.  Like Momish, many women today are constantly sacrificing their own wardrobes for the sake of their children’s needs or the household bills.  “It’s great,” Momish slyly grins as she ‘pinches more than an inch’ on her waist, “Going up another size gives me the perfect excuse to go shopping and spend money on myself for a change. Just wanting to keep in step with the latest trends wasn’t reason enough for me to treat myself to new things. But it’s a whole other story when I can’t fit in my clothes from last year. I mean, I can’t very well go to work naked, now can I?” 

So don’t fret ladies if that MILF status is beyond your reach thanks to your much deserved laugh lines, your naturally slowering metabolisms and your impressive busy schedules. As Momish tells us, “While only time can make you 40 and fabulous, anyone can be Flabby Chic. All it takes is a little flair for fashion. Well, that and a shitload of sugar and carbs!”

I never use to get sick.  When people would ask me how I managed to avoid the cold going around the office, I always use to tell them it was mind over matter.  A healthy mind produced a healthy body.  I believe that.

Well, I seem to be sick an awful lot anymore.

In my last post, I hinted at how I was going to make myself happier and healthier this year.  And no, I am not referring to giving up potato chips for lent, but the part where I joked about saving the world, albeit one step at a time.  I plan on joining a group or volunteering my time to a worthy cause.  Because I have discovered that this makes me a happier person. 

I use to volunteer my time and energy a lot before I “settled down”.  I use to work in the mental health field.  I use to be committed.

And I never got sick.

But somewhere between the house, the kids, the job and full time life, I lost that part of me.  And I need to get it back.  Although I enjoy my job, it is in the wee hours, while lying in bed at night where I start to feel the void.  What did I accomplish today?  Yeah, I figured that thing out, I solved that problem, I helped those people.  But all those actions only amount to earning my paycheck, by making other people more money.

I want to lie in bed and rattle off at least one accomplishment which did not benefit me or make someone else wealthier, and I want to do it without a stuffy nose! 

{What are your plans for a healthier new year?  Share them over at Blogher and you might win a trip to BlogHer ‘08!}

This is me trying to shove as much as possible into one post during a work break:

Well first off, I have to tell you about Piper’s latest accomplishment.  Poo on the potty.  Imagine my surprise when my daughter casually tells me she has to go to the potty and then proceeds to completely go. I mean the whole nine yards. Needless to say, there has been much praise and excitement going at chez Momish.

All in all, I have to say that those day care folks are doing a great job at potty training my child!

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I got my first speeding ticket ever.  I feel torn over this.  Half of me is bummed that my perfect driving record after 41 years is now tainted.  But the other half of me is carrying that ticket around like a badge of honor. Because after 41 years, I finally own a car that is capable of going over 70 MPH!

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Tonight Piper and I are staying over my sister’s house. My niece is turning 10 and in honor this occasion, she is having a sleep over. With 10 of her friends. My sister is crazy to agree to this, but she is my sister so I feel the need to help her through this momentary lapse of judgement.

If you don’t hear from me ever again, you know why. 

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Let’s talk about Facebook for a minute.  I finally figured all this stuff out.  After months of being poked, challenged, offered gifts, etc. I finally discovered how it all works. I am becoming quite the social butterfly, if I say so myself.  Those of you on Facebook that have sent me questions, gifts, offerings with no response, I thank you for patience and persistence.  But look out! This technical idiot savant has found her Facebook grove. 

The good thing about finally understanding Facebook is that I found a lot of my friends, some of them long lost and out of touch. But I have to admit, for a while there I was having an identity crisis. Ya’ll, I am not shitting you when I say all my friends (you guys included) are totally successful, interesting, ambitious and just downright awesome. Having it all laid out there in plain view kinda makes you evaluate yourself in comparison. This was not a fun exercise for me.

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On another note, I’ve decided to write a book, start my own business, travel the world, run a committee, join a band, star in a theater production and save the world.

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P.S. I gave up potato chips for lent. So far, so good.  If I make it all the way through, I fully expect a Thank You car from my ass come Easter.

My child can’t count.  I didn’t worry about this much when she was two.  But now she is two and a half, yet she still can’t count.  She proudly goes, “One, two, seven, nine, ten!”

This is actually an improvement though.  Before, she used to throw letters in with the numbers, “One, two, four, g, p, x - GO!”  At least now she recognizes the difference.

At times it gives me pause to worry, especially when all the other two year olds are counting as high as fifteen, sometimes twenty.  But most often, I try not to get too worked up.  All in due time.  After all, she is still just a babe.  I also remind myself that I have managed to fare well in life, even though I am a complete math moron.

Then the other day during lunch time, she took her napkin and gingerly folded it in half, matching the two points up perfectly.  Then she grasped the other two end points and holding it up high, she said, “Look mommy, I make a triangle napkin for you!”

That is when I had to tell myself, “See? She’s fine! She’s more than fine, she’s smart. She can make triangles for Pete’s sake!”

It’s all relative in the end, right? Fuck the numbers, so she’ll never be an accountant.  I can live with that.