Some of these items were gifted to me as a thank you for inclusion in this post. All opinions are mine.
Allow me to paint you a picture.
Me. Age 32. In a locker room at our local community center. I’m wrapped in a towel – my slightly purplish-bluish hair horribly disheveled from a shampoo-less, post-workout shower. On my feet are two sopping wet, white, ankle socks, drenched from that previously mentioned shower. A shower, for which I forgot to pack shower shoes. I’ve been burned by public showers in the past, so I’m a little gun-shy when it comes to putting flesh to tile in a locker room.
In my hand, is a mostly-dull, pink disposable razor that I am using to dry-shave my legs, because I forgot to bring my showering necessities with me into the shower stall. And while I’m all for body positivity, I’m nowhere near emotionally strong enough to do any kind of scurrying in the nude. So now, due to the dry-shaving, my gams are actively flaking skin particles onto the sweaty gym clothes I’m standing on, to help absorb the moisture from those soggy gym socks I was talking about.
A little girl scampers into the locker room to use the potty before cannonballing into the pool and stops dead in her tracks.
I might as well be covered in pigeons.
But my friends, while on the outside I may look like post-American Pie Tara Reid, on the inside, I am radiant. Because you see, today is Babysitter Day. Once a week during the summer, our sitter comes over for a few hours, so that I can have an uninterrupted day of doing things that my children would find excruciating, like shopping for a sensible mom-bra that lifts and separates without creating a roll of back fat.
On Babysitter Day, I am a woman on fire. I eat lunch at noon instead of 10:47am. I run multiple errands that require me to exit my vehicle and spend more than six minutes inside a single store. And I exercise without manipulating my breathing so that I can answer a question on each exhalation. On Babysitter Day, I soar like an eagle – free to move as the wind takes me.
So, who cares if I look like an off-off-off-Broadway Grizabella? Me and my tri-tone hair have places to go and kids music not to listen to. Before too long the clock will strike 3:30 and I will return to my life as a mom, to the two wonderful little scamps who give my life purpose.
Because today is Babysitter Day.