by Kristen C.
I’m not exactly sure when or where I lost it, but I’m pretty sure it’s long gone – my hotness, that is. Do you remember yours? I had a love/hate relationship with mine.
Sure. I loved modeling, free drinks, and hot dates. Who doesn’t? But, the nasty cat calls, bad pick-up lines, and unwanted affection are quite forgettable. However, considering I haven’t had even one questionable 3.8 second glance in ages, I’m ticked.
When I was pregnant, I decided to put my hotness on hold. I tried to do the “regular-just-a-size-larger-with-belly-peeking-out” tank top look ala a pregnant Rachel on Friends. I even wore maternity thongs. But, that lasted until my seventh month. And then I gladly welcomed the “these-could-shelter-1400-refugees” underpants and the blessed belly panel jean skirt and called it a night. So long, hotness – see you after the baby.
I packed up my own underwear and a flattering black nursing nightgown in my hospital bag, convinced that no one would get me (the on-hold hot one) in one of those hospital gowns and disposable underpants. But, suffice it to say that after popping a large child from your crotch, you could care less about the underpants and the gowns.
I stuffed myself into my going home outfit and tried desperately to get my hotness back by attempting to fit into anything that wasn’t marked “large-pregnant-woman-wear.” Since all I could find that fit were an old pair of socks (hey - they weren't maternity socks!?), I decided my hotness may in fact have left forever.
I gave up for awhile. Maybe it was the stinging pain while peeing or the rubbing of the lube on my nether regions just so I could enjoy a bowel movement. Or perhaps it was the baby that was almost constantly attached to my saucer-sized nipples that you could see from China (the nipples, that is). In fact, I'm pretty sure if you type in "Kristen's Nipples" on google earth, you could see them. No magnification required.
So, lately I’ve taken to trying to spruce myself up. A pedicure here, some shaved legs there. I bought some new clothes, joined the gym (to which I go every once and awhile – particularly when I want to read and shower in peace), and found some cool shoes. And I’m hoping that with a little effort – four pounds of make-up on a light day – I might just find my hotness.
Granted I’m a little wider, and a whole lot wiser, I’d still like it back. At least before it’s gone forever, and all I have are crappy boring stories of “that old and wonderful hotness.” Those were the days.
Kristen is a former college music professor turned stay-at-home-mother/rock star to her 20-month-old daughter, Quinlan.