If you’re like me and you’re a mom, you already know what your superpower is…invisibility. You do it all: schlep children to their activities, you cook healthy meals, you clean the house, you show up at the PTA meetings, you bake for the bake sale, you’re the team mom, the Girl Scout leader, the first one to volunteer yet no one knows your name. You’re either “mom” or Olivia and Taylor’s mom…your husband even calls you mom…you cease to exist…you’re invisible…although it doesn’t feel like a super power at all…in fact it sucks.
Now I get it…I know some of it we bring on ourselves….somewhere along the line we actually start to believe that being invisible is a good thing. We accept this superpower as a consequence of surviving the nuclear waste leak that is sometimes referred to as parenthood. As if changing diapers (see the toxic waste reference) mutates us into invisible beings. We place our children in front of us in every picture like farmers presenting their harvest- this is what I have to offer. Bullshit. We pack on the pounds after children as part of our invisibility force field. No one’s looking anyways so I might as well finish off that quart of ice cream. We start shopping for clothing at places with “barn” in their name like we’re accepting that we’ve become cows. We accept that wearing our hair in a low maintenance style makes the most sense (whatever that means). We stop wearing sexy lingerie to bed because well, he’ll sleep with me in my cotton underwear and t shirt anyways and we’ve only got 10 minutes so that doesn’t leave much time for a costume change does it?
FUCK all of this. I don’t want to be invisible. I want to be seen damn it! And not just as Olivia and Taylor’s mom or as Mike’s wife or Romeo’s owner….I want to be seen as the sexy, vibrant WOMAN that I know is in there somewhere.
I’d like to say that we live in the kind of world where I could be seen for my smart ass sense of humor or my charming ability to carry a conversation but let’s be honest…if you really want to be seen, it starts with the physical. So as I started losing weight, I looked for any way to make the person I felt I was on the inside be seen on the outside and that started with ditching the sensible shoes. Ladies, you know, you never feel more electric than when you’re walking around in some motherfucking heels. You can’t walk in heels without a natural swagger, a strut, a saunter. Then I moved on the the undergarments…I didn’t care if the material chapped my nipples or the underwire cut into my skin or if the thong occasionally got lost up there and had to be retrieved….I knew no one was going to see them at work but I felt a little less invisible when I knew what I’m rocking underneath my clothes could also be seen on page 37 of the Victoria’s Secret catalog. And the clothes, just because big flowing peasant tops are in right now doesn’t mean I need to hide my shape under a yard of fabric. God (and let’s be honest…Ben and Jerry’s) gave me this shape and I’m certainly wasn’t going to hide my light under a bushel, no matter how dim that light was at present. I started taking a lot of selfies too because you know what…I don’t need my kids in every picture as some sort of explanation for why I look the way I do or as some kind of reference point. I also started taking A LOT of dirty pictures of myself…sometimes I send them to the hubs- sometimes they’re just for me. Sometimes I look at them in my car before I pick up the kids at soccer or swim or dance just as a reminder that I’m more than a taxi driver. My husband sometimes has to remind me that I’m a mother and not a porn star and to that I say FUCK YOU. Even if I’m invisible to most of the world, I can see myself. And then there was the weight-loss…the quickest way to be seen…..which is ironic if you think about it…the larger you are the less people see you…the smaller you are…well you know.
Whatever you do, trade in that superpower of invisibility for something that is actually super and makes you feel powerful.