Reflections in a Dressing Room

My last shopping trip felt like a scene from Pretty Woman. Not the triumphant "big mistake" scene where Julia Roberts smugly puts snooty saleswomen in their place. The "before" scene.

I left the house feeling excited enough. The to-do list was mostly checked off and my daughter had happily followed a pretty predictable schedule - it was time for a mommy-baby outing. She smiled when I slid the car seat into its spot; I tapped the steering wheel in time with the radio. Mid-afternoon sunlight slid cheerily through almost empty branches as I headed my car to our shared adventure, just two girls about town. Maybe I could find a cute outfit for my cousin's shower that fit more flatteringly than the options in my closet. Here was hoping.

After securing a rather prime parking spot (a feat in itself) and getting the stroller situated with all of the necessary - and coordinated - essentials, I tackled the first shop. And that's when I learned that the sweet smiles - the genuine kind that enter the eyes - that greet a pregnant mom-to-be are not the smiles a stroller evokes. At least not in a retail setting. A stroller carrying even the quietest of infants sparks a frosty professional smirk, one that urges the shopper to scan the store quickly from the doorway, then leave. And leave I did. Often.

When I actually did enter a fitting room with clothes options in tow, my daughter was the only one who had a good time in front of the mirror. While she chortled enthusiastically at her image, I died a little each time I saw the final result in the reflection. I didn't look like the mannequin. More importantly, I didn't look like myself - the self I saw each day before that cute, pink drooling machine entered my universe. While the fluorescent lights didn't help, they weren't to blame for my current dismal worldview.

Determined in that desperate something-good-has-to-happen way, I eventually found a stylish (I hoped) gray sweater with unique detailing at the cuffs and black dress pants that made my legs look thin. While the sizes on the tags boasted numbers I did not own in my pre-mom life, at least I could zip and drape them without unseemly bulges peeking through. A quick trendy necklace purchase (I don't know what to do with accessories!) and I had an viable option for our family event. More importantly, I could let myself go home. This item was firmly crossed off the to-do list.

My husband didn't know what to do with the tears that followed my entrance in the door. Even my dog's eager, bulldozing hello and my daughter's accompanying cries of delight didn't stop them. I was maddened by the tears - who cries about shopping?? - but couldn't help myself. I just felt raw. I guess I wasn't prepared for all of the reflections...

In the end, the outfit was a hit and I did feel pretty wearing it. As the frustration of the search ebbs, I think I might just be able to face a back-to-school shopping trip in a few weeks.

It would be nice if, by then, my daughter isn't the only one smiling at the mirror.