Yummy- Mummy or Slummy-Mummy?

In between moving country, setting up a new home, settling the children into new schools, giving up my job (not to mention my income) along with the loss a full time nanny and housekeeper, I have found I have a lot less time (and less funds) for the small indulgences in life – aka beauty routines.

Things were all swimming along just fine, until I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Not that I haven’t glanced in the mirror each morning to ensure that I don’t have bits of Coco Pops stuck to my hair before I dash out for the school run, but I hadn’t really looked in a really long time.

The reflection staring back at me frightened me. Who was this woman with beach blown hair, sun damaged skin and the unibrow? Where did the decidedly more groomed person I felt ever so much more comfortable with disappear to? Hesitantly, I stepped on the scale, and to add insult to injury, the numbers flashing up were not comforting – I guess the all-access pass to the fridge wasn’t helping matters. A cold sweat washed over me.

I started to think back much like you do when you first realise you might be pregnant and you try to remember when your last cycle was. When was the last time I exfoliated (something I used to do religiously three times a week), or waxed (an appointment that was a permanent fixture in my diary)? I never wanted to be one of those couldn’t-care-less mummies who sport greying sweat shirts to match their greying roots. But my own treacherous roots proved otherwise.

I shared my vain fears with my ever-patient husband, who told me he loves me even without a manicure. I quick glance to my hands confirmed yet another body part that had been neglected for far too long.

The next day I made a trip to the pharmacy, and left armed with enough paraphernalia and products (promising impossible results) to stock a beauty salon. Once home, I locked myself into the bathroom and after hours of scrubbing, dyeing, plucking and preening I emerged feeling like a new woman.

Sadly, no one in my family noticed my yummy-mummy efforts, which just goes to prove that they really do love me no matter the state of eyebrows. But regardless, I’m going about my days now feeling heaps better about myself, in the knowledge that I have restored a bit of my former self. I have vowed to dedicate a little bit of regular vanity time to myself, because I’m worth it.