On the 361st day of 2022, I restarted Sex and the City from the pilot for… mmm… the 273rd time in my lifetime— the same day I discovered my first black, wiry, chin hair.
It’s hard enough to stomach I’m older than Carrie in Season 1 by nearly three years, but on the same day to have also discovered a chin hair in the same place I watched my mother pluck when I was a girl is humbling beyond compare.
I’ve been feeling, as the Brits say, “mumsy” for far too long and it’s done. I’ve mentioned this before, but I operate in light switches— on and off— mumsy is off, best self is on.
Moreover, my iPhone photos have not-so-subtly reminded me of my pre-baby, pre-Covid, pre-New Jersey (land of mediocre Italian food) bod and I’ve just fiercely decided that my 2023 resolution is all about investing in myself and not apologizing for it.
I’ve never been a proponent of “Mommy Martyrdom”— this idea that we must sacrifice our entire selves for our children. It’s important that our children and society know our lives aren’t over because we’ve become mothers or wives, but we’ve just become more multi-faceted and interesting.
I really believe a babysitter and a manicure can do a whole lot of good, and yet, still, I find it hard to do— even when I know better.
And so, I’m putting it in writing, as a commitment to self, and as an incredible manifester… and so it will be.
New Years Resolutions of Shallow (Yet Important) Make
Quarterly facials.
Purchase Osea in bulk (anything else is skin poison) and use it all the time for every day I am not getting a facial and never run out.
Get one of those at-home facial machines that look like a vibrator for your face and use it between quarterly facials and Osea.
Nails. Just get them done regularly like an adult woman and grow them out, shape them like an almond (just learned this is a thing) and at the very least, tickle my own arm to put myself to sleep at night.
Adopt well-balanced eating matched with regular hot yoga and Peloton, and not in a quick fix way, but in the way that I used to, which was just as much about mental health as physical.
Take vitamins. I say this every year.
Add collagen and other powders and potions into high protein liquid meals I’ve blended while AB covers her ears on other side of the house.
Highlight my hair to enhance yet diminish all the grays. I will invest in that bitchy French woman to do it.
Create standing appointments for all this bullshit. Which is not actually bullshit.
Buy clothes representative of a woman who leaves the house daily, even if she doesn’t.
Bonus…
Weekly therapy. None of this every other week meshuagas.
Oh and of course, topple the patriarchy.
I’m not entirely sure women like this exist IRL, but if you know one— or are one—please call me (you’ll find me programmed in your phone as High Maintenance) and let me know how much time and money I need to budget to achieve all this.
Also, if you’d like to join me in this journey, all company of any age is welcome.