Wednesday, November 21, 2012



I was a total hippie in high school. A braided-haired, flowy-skirted, guitar-totin', peace love and happiness hippie. I sang countless performances on stage without shoes, songs from artists like Fleetwood Mac and Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins and the more recent Dar Williams. I smoked clove cigarettes and refused to eat meat and let my hair grow heavy down my back.

In college I became a landscaper. I traded braids for ponytails and traded clogs for work boots. I smoked real cigarettes and drank beer and swore. I wore John Deere shirts and ripped jeans and scrubbed each day's worth of mud from under my fingernails.

And then Corporate America came after college and stole my identity. Khakis and skirts, button-downs and suits, jewelry and heels. I despised getting dressed each day and immediately changed into painted jeans or pajamas upon my arrival home.

When motherhood came I no longer cared what I wore or if I showered even, as long as my child was healthy and content. My husband still occasionally comes home to a wife in a messy bun wearing the same clothes I wore the day before, covered in spilled milk and toddler tears, and he still loves me as much.

Pregnancy adds yet another kink because nothing fits. My breasts are the size of large softballs, my belly is the size of a beach ball, and yet the smallest maternity pants I can find slip off my size 2 waist and the larger shirts fall off of my shoulders. Today I wore a dress with knee-high knitted socks and a knitted cap. The outfit reminded me of my high school days and made me wish for braids and long hair.

But aside for Corporate America, I've always just been me. A thrifty folk-lover who refuses to buy into fashion trends and is happy in her own skin.

And let me tell you. I am so happy. I cannot count the number of times in a day that I look at my husband or my child and swell from the overabundance of love... thankful.