Okay, today I am going to be very shallow, vain and catty. Hey, I'm a woman! You would expect no less from me, right? Indulge me here.Recently, I attended the birthday party of my best friend's 4-year old son. It was a big family and close friend affair - a house chock full of babies, toddlers, toys, wrapping paper, cake, noise, wall-to-wall parents chasing after wall-to-wall babies and toddlers and then there were me and hubby - two lone childfree-by-choice people amid a sea of kindercraziness.
Hubby walked in, took one look at the frenetic chaos, and made a bee-line out the front door where he gratefully took refuge drinking martinis out of the back of an old friend's mini-van. It was a regular escapist's tailgate party. I let them be and didn't crash their party. First of all, I am not much of a drinker, plus I knew that hubby and his old friend would really enjoy some quality male bonding time catching up over their drinks. So there I was, stuck with all the women - the mommies. I did the requisite cooing over the kids and I even had some fun playing with them, I admit. When the baby babble got boring, I kept myself occupied at the food table, delighting myself in cookies, birthday cake, brownies and cupcakes.
While I was deciding whether I should indulge in another brownie or one last piece of birthday cake, I looked around the room. I appraised and evaluated all the women and observed them in motion. Most were in my age range - 30's or 40's, a couple were older. All were mothers except me. I looked more closely at them and it suddenly dawned on me that compared to me, these women looked like wrecks - sloppy clothes, wiry hair falling out of messy ponytails, no makeup, spare tire bellies bulging out of ill-fitting jeans. Now, I will tell you up front that I am no Jackie Kennedy, but I can objectively say that I was the most pulled-together, attractive and stylish woman in the room. I am not talking attractive as in pretty (I am not that vain). I am talking attractive as in well-groomed, attentive to one's appearance, physically fit, well-proportioned, and stylish. It didn't take long for me to realize that the sole reason I held this advantage over these women was that I am childfree. My body hasn't been abused by childbirth. I'm not stretched out, worn out and plumped up. My skin glows with plentiful rest and I frequently suprise people when they learn my age (they always guess 6-8 years younger). I have the time and money to get regular haircuts, shop for clothing, put on makeup, style my hair, get an occasional facial and massage, select pretty jewelry to coordinate with my stylin' clothes. I diligently exercise 5-6 days a week to stay fit, energetic and healthy. These mommies are lucky if they can find 5 minutes to locate a pair of socks that match.
Yes, I am being catty today, but you know what? Writing about my catty feelings here and sharing my smugness with you, my childfree friends and sympathizers, provides a nice boost - sharing the little secrets of how being a marginalized member of our society can actually work to one's benefit.
