My Image

This is...erm...Ashley or Madison or Tiffany (I forget as I was, as usual, drunk when I met her) the MODEL that the Powers That Be at my New Company hired to "REPRESENT" Mud at the Atlanta Gift Show. Once I met her at the welcoming cocktail party I basically just handed over my nametag, and concentrated on hiding glasses of white wine within the booth display (last year they ran out.) I am totally digging that my new image is this twenty something skinny bitch ( and I mean that in the most professional and complimentary way possible) instead of the frumpy forty something who hasn't had a haircut in almost a year that I was forced to live with in the past. I am sure at some point we will also be moving on up to the East Side.

And in a related story...

Last night, in that grey area that occurs after the TV has been shut off and The Spawn is told for the fifteenth time to GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH, I caught Sexyhusbandomine, Complicatedboy and Thebananna huddled around his computer screen WATCHING VIDEOS OF THE EAGLES' CHEERLEADERS. And while I believe the cheerleaders were speaking intelligently about their desire to save the planet from global warming, their love of puppies and kittens and long walks on the beach, or that McNabb fellow (blah blah blah go Eagles), all of them were Wearing Bikinis. And had their hair blowing.

"You need to look like THAT Mom" said Complicatedboy, playfully slapping my wine gut. Which almost hits him in the eye on the rebound..how's that for karma?

"Oh, Mommy looks better than that, kids" says Sexyhusbandomine, in a vain attempt at damage control. (At which point I shoot him The Look which says: "Nice try, Sexyhusbandomine. I'll consider sex with you again once the memory of this incident wears off...let's say.....September?")

At the same time, I realize that I may be witnessing the birth of Thebananna's adolescent body image struggle--and while she's only 4 now, in ten years I could find her weeping over skeleton girl images in Seventeen and secretly popping Dexitrim. Then I flash back to an article I recently read about a Hollywood starlet who used to EAT KLEENEX in an effort to stay skinny and the image of Little Bananna trying to choke down a Puffs brings tears to my eyes and I say:

"We all know that what's on the INSIDE is what matters, right?" Silence. I get the Spawn's collective attention and go on to say:

"Which would you rather have? A skinny mom in a bikini who spends all her time blow drying her hair and doing pilates or a fat mommy who is fun and creative and buys cookies?" And TOGETHER THEY SAID....

"YOU!"