Shopping for Mommy

I went to the mall yesterday to order some new glasses from Lenscrafters. I had put a pair on hold the day before that were quite different from any I've had before, and while I wasn't 100% sure on them, I was looking forward to trying them on again after my tutoring sessions. They had these ambery acrylic frames, a bit large, but I didn't think they were bad. Dolce and Gabana--so fancy, although not a deal-breaker since my insurance covered most of the frame price.

I walk into the store, the guy finds my frames, and instantly tells me that he doesn't like them. Cool.

He doesn't like the color ("just personally"), and after another 45 minutes of trying these amongst all sorts of other frames, he also lets me know "they're too big for your face". WAAAAH. I also liked a similar pair of clear purple frames against my better judgement, but in the end, after hemming and hawing, and almost not signing the paperwork after it was printed, I went with these:

Ooooh, how cute, you say. Sooo nice! If you worked at Lenscrafters you might add something inane about how well my eyes are centered. And while I like them quite a bit more after about 4 hours of wear the next day, I have a very strange feeling about this purchase.

See, I wanted something different from my current [slightly warped, very filthy] glasses that I bought about 2 years ago. Theses specs had all sorts of color and zazz that really got me excited about buying, and thusly wearing them. But I didn't want "different" to mean "average" or "boring" or "domestic-looking". As soon as the guy was sitting with me, hammering in the details which would allow me to purchase these lovely frames, I began to feel trapped by their simplicity. I felt I had sacrificed some of my own personal flare at the tauntings of this salesman, but perhaps not only because of him.

I know I'm gonna have a kid in 6 months (I'M GONNA HAVE A KID IN 6 MONTHS.) There's a weird feeling that I get when I get dressed for a baby doctor appointment, where I feel like I have to wear a dress with my hair down, and some light feminine makeup. That feeling started to sneak in on me while I shopped for glasses.

I felt, and kind of still feel like I'm strattling this line between the obvious idea that of course, I can still be my one-click-off self, and that maybe I need to grow up--whatever that means. That maybe I shouldn't wear buzz lightyear hats in public,

or wear dresses with sneakers and sweatshirts,

 or pretend I'm a dinosaur in a dress with sneakers and sweatshirts,

 I've been thinking about what my baby is going to see when he (maybe she) starts hanging out with me. For some reason, I can't shake the thought that I don't look like a mommy.

This of course, is ridiculous, because one day, when my kids want to wear their buzz lightyear hats with dresses and sneakers and sweatshirts, and stomp around like dinosaurs in public, we'll all be on the same team. So, that may be one point for Lenscrafters, but I've decided, family first--I won't melt into a boring suburbanite without a fight.