Say No To Mom Jeans

Last Saturday I went to an open mic where a female comic commented on my schlubby jeans/blouse ensemble.

“You used to wear dresses all the time. Now that you’re getting some **** you don’t dress sexy no more!”

She could have said, “I’ve noticed a change in your attire since you started dating what’s his face.”  But comics are not known for their tact and a reference to the male fellatio will generate a laugh. (I GET IT).  However, she did speak the truth in acknowledging that I may be on the slippery slope to Mom Jeans.  It’s one thing to feel secure in my relationship, but another to move too far my position on the rights of women over 35 to embrace a sexy style without shame or fear.

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When I stopped dancing salsa (as much) my body slid down on the “Bam!” scale, and while I tried to fix it with downward dogs and some really unmotivated jogging, I found  that forcing your body to look a certain way takes all the pleasure out of human mobility and usually leads to injuries.  God, clearly wants us to dance and/or play soccer.

Regardless of what I look like, I found that I liked wearing dresses and that such pleasures can and should be enjoyed at whatever weight and age.  When I got into a relationship, I just got lazy.  Sure, I occasionally dress up for my BF, but I forgot that girls actually dress up for EACH OTHER. (my bad).

So that night I pulled my H&M dress that clearly designed for a 10th grader and went out salsa dancing, and went out and got my groove back.