Hey, Jealousy...

This morning I was helping Big Brother Badger get dressed, and while he was putting his shirt on I told him he had a cute belly.  Well, he replied matter-of-factly that I had an ugly belly.  I don't think he meant anything by it, because when he glanced up and saw my face he immediately tried to make it better, "Don't worry, Mommy!  When you put your shirt on your belly gets pretty!".  Yes, well, I suppose layers of fabric do help.

I'm not overly self-conscious of how I look.  I'm mostly a jeans and sneakers kind of gal, though I do enjoy a good splurge at Kohl's.  I dream of someday owning a pair of really expensive shoes, but I'd probably spend the money on the chef's table with a wine pairing at Volt.  But the Little Badger's comment this morning got me thinking about appearance.  You see, I have two sons, and I'd always assumed that as long as I didn't embarrass them with pastel sweatshirts at soccer practice, they wouldn't much notice what I looked like.  And I have a daughter, and am planning on being presentable as a good example to her, but she's just 14 months old, so I figured I've got some time.  Maybe not.

Do my children judge my appearance, even as young as they are?  If they do, I might be in trouble already.  There are three Aunties in my children's lives who are very pretty, fashionable, and have perfect hair.  Am I falling short?

I guess I should have seen this coming.  A couple weeks ago I had a date with Daddy River Badger.  We sat at a sushi bar and had fun.  At one point, DRB went to the bathroom, leaving me alone at the bar.  A couple of attractive guys came in, sat down one seat over, and starting making small talk.  I was incredibly full of myself until I remembered I was wearing a pair of Halloween-themed ghost earrings.  Bah.

When you think you "look like a Mommy", are you supposed to then feel a sense of shame and go to the gym?  Are you supposed to shrug and say, whatevs?  Are you supposed to smirk and be smugly proud?  I guess I feel all three ways sometimes.  And, I also feel somehow a little too old for jealousy to be any sort of real motivation to step it up.

So, what to do?  Guess I should shrug, smirk, say whatevs, and head to the gym.  Cause I can't get a badass tummy like Auntie unless I do.