Where, Oh Where, Have My Boobs Gone?

I went bra shopping this morning, which was one of the more depressing experiences of my recent life.

You guys, I have no boobs.

I don't know where they went to, exactly, but I guess my children somehow ingested my great rack along with all of that breastmilk, because all of the sudden I look more like a twelve year-old girl than a grown woman.  How could I have gone from 34C to 36DD to 32-barely-a-B?!

If this is the state of my boobies while I'm still nursing, I'm getting really scared about what I'm going to look like when I wean the Little Lady.  Will my chest become concave?  Will I start to look like a postoperative transexual if I forget to wax my mustache?  It's a chilling thought, friends.

Technically, I'm still nursing Rose.  The only problem is that she has no interest in me whatsoever and if I even offer her a boob she looks at me like I've called her a racist slur and starts screaming bloody murder.  I can sometimes force feed her if she's completely asleep, but even my usually abundant supply is being hit hard by the fact that there's no baby interested in partaking of it.  I'm pumping twice a day and downing fenugreek pills the way I did tequila shoots in college, but I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to keep the taps flowing.

The problem is that I'm reluctant to wean.

Rose is my last baby and while I definitely don't want another kid, it's terribly bittersweet that my littlest munchkin doesn't want to be babied anymore.  She's too busy to nurse now - she's crawling and pulling up and trying to keep up with her brother - and it's just too hard for her to focus long enough to feed.  So I'm struggling with trying to honor this aspect of her personality while also wanting to provide her with the benefits of breastmilk (the jury is still out on whether there really are that many) and my desire to enjoy bonding with my baby girl for just a little while longer.

I'm hoping I can keep this going for a few more months, but I suspect that the decision, ultimately, won't really be mine to make.  In the meantime I may just do a little research on breast lifts.

For a friend, of course.

Put Some Makeup On

2015 is the year of better personal grooming.  And selfies, apparently.

I think it's been pretty well-established here that personal grooming is not my strong suit.  Aside from the fact that it's practically impossible for me to find time to shower, let alone blow dry my hair, I just honestly can't really be bothered to make the effort some (okay, most) days.  When one's job primarily entails changing poopy diapers, making play-do sculptures, and dodging flying food, it's difficult to find the motivation to put on makeup or change out of pajamas.  Honestly, most days the only time I end up mixing with the general population is when I take the kiddos to the park, and there's nothing like a dirty playground in the middle of the concrete jungle to kill your desire to wear items that require drycleaning.

While it may, theoretically, be perfectly acceptable to put no effort whatsoever into one's appearance, it can make you feel kind of crappy about yourself when you live in Los Angeles.  This is the land of The Kardashians and The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills; a city where it's perfectly normal for 22 year old girls to get Botox for their "wrinkles" and where it's practically a crime against nature for a woman over the age of 30 to leave the house without wearing makeup.  The truth is that I enjoy looking attractive, I just don't want to put in too much effort to make it happen.

But now that I have a daughter I feel as though I'm setting a bad example by not taking care of myself.  I don't want the Little Lady to only have memories of me looking like a cross between an Olsen twin and a homeless person, so I've declared 2015 to be the year that I start putting a teensy bit more work into my appearance every day.  Even if my only human contact happens to be with children under the age of three, at least I'll look cute when they get a hold of my phone and accidentally take Instagram photos of me.  

Enter my new favorite beauty obsession: Armani Luminessence CC Cream.  I got a tube of this stuff in my Christmas stocking this year, and I had no idea what it was.  Initially I was like, "uh, thanks.  Probably never going to use this, but it's the thought that counts!"  Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth.  I'm eating my words now, because if you're a Mommy or just a busy lady without a lot of time to devote to personal grooming, this is the product for you.  It's slightly tinted.  It's got sunscreen already in it.  It doesn't feel heavy.  In short it's amazing.  Here's the bad news: unlike yours truly in college, this sh*t ain't cheap.  The good news is that you don't have to use very much of it, so I suspect that the tube will last a decently long time.

I feel so much better about myself now that I'm making an effort with my appearance that I'm kind of hoping I run into one of my ex-boyfriends at the park.

Just in case you were wondering, this is in no way, shape, or form a sponsored post.  I simply like to share with you the goodies that I find help to alleviate some of the day-to-day grind of parenthood.