Today I went "up town". I was child free. I was alone. No Mum bag and I like to think if I had hidden my wedding ring? I could have been classed as a cool, hip and trendy single lady. Ala Beyonce. No-one could have noticed that I had been up all night with a poorly tiny son. And OK yeah I had a rain coat with me, you know just in case, but bar that? I was Swifty's older, bustier, sister.
There has been a change of events recently. I'm not sure if it's because those baby days are long behind me and it is possible to get at least a few nights sleep in a row. But I have started to feel a bit more me. However the me that I feel? Is the me before mortgages, marriage and kiddos. Worryingly? I am feeling mid 20's. However? My body is not. I found myself roaming Miss Selfridges trying to work out if I could fit into a super short playsuit without my privates hanging out the bottom. If I would suit a floral crown at 37 and how many pairs of jelly shoes did I need to carry me through the summer.
My ripped jeans. Like the youth.
My floral headbands. Like the youth.
Recently I've brought several pairs of ripped jeans. Like the youth. I own high tops. Like the youth. And my nails are painted a very bright shade of orange. Like the youth. I still can't get my head around the fact that I produced two small people. I think I would seamlessly fit into a trendy night club (the fact I used the word 'trendy'? Proves I would not). But. The REALLY great thing about being a Mum in your late 30s? Is that to be honest? I couldn't give a sh*t.