Don’t mess with mom hormones

“Wow! You look so pretty … (my ears perk up) … for a mom”. And there it is; the compliment that never was. I’m sure the 16-year-old handing me coffee meant no offence. On the contrary, she looked rather pleased with herself for providing so much compassion to the old woman in front of her. I’m sure she told her friends about her random act of kindness. How she must certainly have made my day. She appeared very confident about her observation, which is why I resisted my urge to toss my coffee at her. Instead, I accepted the compliment graciously, and wept a little into my paper cup.

Don’t get me wrong, a compliment of any kind after the age of 40 is a good thing. I remember, as a young professional, feeling absolutely aghast when men twice my age commented on my appearance. Now … I’m more than happy with a whistle or holler, no matter how old the caller, even though I’m fairly certain their vision is failing.

But to hear that I look good for a ‘mom’, is a little crushing.  Are us ‘moms’ really that bad? Most of my friends are mothers and they’re all beautiful women. At least I think so. I guess from the eyes of a young girl, the world of parenthood is part of the downward spiral. The beginning of the end. I suppose in her way, she was saying “good for you for not letting yourself go”. Well, at least not yet.

Somewhere in the aging process it switches from “you look good!” to “you look good for … your age, a mom, a grandmother”.  The rare and coveted compliment for a middle ager is, “you look better than ever!” That’s the nugget we’re all waiting to hear, and it’s the rare gal that gets to hear it.

A few days ago, I was talking about the proverbial “let-go” with a girlfriend. For years I’ve wondered, when does it happen? Is there a moment when you decide that it’s just too hard? That the effort just isn’t worth it? And now I’m here. I can see that the moment is now, right in front of me.

Staying healthy is harder. Seeing results more challenging. I vividly remember deciding to drop five pounds by Friday night simply by skipping breakfast for a few days in a row. Not anymore. The pounds creep up quickly, but they are a nightmare to eliminate. Everything in my little universe is telling me that I’m at a crossroads. Either I take that easier route and let myself go (really, how bad would it be?) or fight like heck to look and feel healthy. I won’t lie. The easy road is quite appealing. There’s chocolate and wine, stretchy pants and loose tops. The other path is filled with juicing, meal plans, sore joints and sweat. Lots of sweat.

As I try so hard to make family healthier, I’ve suddenly found that the biggest challenge is not my kids, but me.  As healthy living becomes more of a necessity than a choice, I’m feeling a little resentful. Just the thought of a salad makes me want to dive into a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

So for now, I’m still in the fight. I’m skipping the ice cream and reaching for an apple. I’m just not happy about it. I am accepting that to age is a privilege and that I will learn to happily accept praises even if they have conditions attached.

I just caution young women everywhere— we moms often pack some mean hormones. Choose your words carefully. If in doubt, opt for something simple like “great highlights”, or “nice purse”.

Have you hit a crossroad? Tell me about it