The concept of “letting one’s self go” has always bothered me, because of the way it reduces and objectifies women.
When I was 12 years-old, after my stepmom had given birth to her first child, my grandmother asked me one day, matter-of-factly: “¿Ya se descompuso?” which roughly translates to: “Has her body broken yet?” As if discussing an appliance.
I remember being offended by her question, despite not being too fond of my stepmom.
I was lucky to grow up with a mom that was a strong female role model, and never focused too much energy on my looks. But in the last couple of years, I may not have focused enough.
I never learned to spend too much time or money on beauty. I didn’t grow up getting my nails done. It’s hard for me to justify spending an hour of my free time or $40 to get my nails done. I feel like there are better ways to spend that time and money.
I never understood people who spent significant resources on beauty. It seemed frivolous.
Looking back, I may have judged them too harshly. Maybe there was a point in caring about your appearance, making yourself a priority, or making time for one’s self. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. But my family really prided itself on education, work, purpose, and passion. Not so much clothes, hair, or makeup.
But this rejection of beauty could go too far. What I didn’t expect was for these habits to intensify as I started my own family. And how powerful these little things could become. Boy did things change when I started my family.
Although I still reject the notion of “letting one’s self go” – because of everything it implies, and how problematic it is, I think for me what actually happened was letting myself go last.
Although this process may be common to a lot of new moms, the weight of this reality has been difficult for me to process.
I realized I don’t make time for myself. And it’s getting to me.
I’m really bad at celebrating and relaxing. Planning for it overwhelms me. Maybe it’s a result of the pandemic, or having a toddler, or moving a lot. Something changed.
I don’t build a lot of room for error. Maybe I’m just too tired.
This may sound obvious, but I noticed that when I sleep well, I’m nicer to my family. When I eat well, I’m nicer. When I exercise, I’m nicer. I don’t snap so much. I’m more patient. Going to Zumba, or even going to Target by myself, feels like a victory. I didn’t realize this is what it was like.
Having to lock the bathroom door, so your kid won’t follow you.
Being a parent means that hanging out with my kid is the best thing in the world. It also means that getting away from her is also the best thing in the world. Childcare is the best thing in the world. I’m so glad we finally got off the waitlist. Gracias a Dios.
Raising a child without a community around you sucks. It’s expensive. It’s stressful. When they get sick, you’re screwed, logistically. Not to mention how awful it feels to see them hurting.
Sometimes you forget about yourself until it's too late.
Last year I gained so much weight that I didn’t even want to take a family portrait. Según yo, I was going to lose weight first. It never happened.
But she’s growing so fast. I’m losing time. She’ll never be little again.
We took pictures of her, at least.
Luckily, my husband staged a photoshoot at home for my 20th high school anniversary. I’m glad he did. This year I want a professional family portrait, no matter what I look like. At least we’re together.
