Updated: with more linky love - right around the bottom, the links, not the love.
Sorry 'bout that James Joyce.
Anyhow, not many know this but I silently stalk this big time blogger that you probably all know named Sweetney (I will not share a picture of the shrine I built to her and her dog) and only recently did I start leaving the odd (trust me:odd - like start a police file odd) comment on her site.
Blog stalking is so immature but whatever, I never said I was all lady-like and growed-up. Oh no I didn't.
Focus motherbumper, get back on track and stop giving the prosecution any more ammo.
So today over at Her Bad Mother's lair, she is talking all about Sweetney's invitation to reveal yourself and all about truthiness. And I thought: motherbumper, you can do this. It's ballsy, balls which I don't possess, but ballsy nonetheless. And I like ballsy. Let's just leave it at that.
Isn't that a great word, truthiness?
It's a state I perpetually live in. Truthiness to me is not black, not white, just the way things are in my mind. Sometimes I forget that motherhood has kicked the last remnants of [media-defined] hotness I once possessed out the door. SB still sees it, I still feel it, but when I walk outside and catch glimpses of my reflection, I literally stop short.
I never thought that I'd be one of those people that (cue sinister dun dun dun duh music) LET THEMSELVES GO (*crash of cymbals*).
But you know, I haven't really let myself go. I still bathe. And I've just prioritized differently. Make-up, non-yoga pant outfits, and the other trappings of superficial beauty are low down on the list, and truthfully (or should I say, truthinessly) I do it just for the ladies now. When I get together with my friends, I'll slap on the war paint.
Kinda reminds me of a story I once read about Saudi women who appear fully veiled in public but underneath wore bright, borderline gaudy, super sexy outfits and full make-up. All for other woman, who were the only ones to see their peacock greatness besides family. Crazy but I get it. But that isn't really related to what I'm saying.
I'm avoiding the dare of truthiness.
Deep breath and here it goes. This is what 38 in the AM with no make-up, combined with motherhood looks like (sorry 'bout the flash, motherbumper is no Karsh):
Come on now, I dare you to do the same.
There is a Flickr group for Self-Portrait Truthiness set up by Sweetney and here are some other nekkid faces of the morning:
Breed 'Em & Weep
(if you do this, paste the other bloggers in your post - if you dare - post that is, not link - duh)