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Letter to a new Mummy



You don't feel like reading about style now; you barely remember your own name and the last time you slept was several seasons ago. 

Style is an alien word, an alien world. You have no thoughts about anything other than, does the baby burp show up on this?

Style is something you had once, in those halcyon dating days, where you and your best girl friends knew each item on the shop floors.

And what drew the right kind of noise to your best assets.  Yes, you had assets.

And you wore shoes that you could stand up in for three minutes, but made your backside look terrific.  The blisters were early-Sunday-morning collateral damage.

Now you have a gorgeous baby in your arms, and you sleep-walk through your new routine (or non-routine; there is no right way).

This is your style, and it will be this way forever.  Well, you will throw a toddler over your shoulder and hug big kids, because your arms aren't made of titanium.  Maybe. 

One Day you will wear perfume again without fear of irritating your baby's new skin.

One Day you will wear necklaces again, and bracelets, without fear of injuring your new baby.

One Day you will find a pair of heels (or flats; there is no right way) that make you feel amazing.

One Day you will discover your assets again.

My One Day arrived a mere two years after my daughter was born, and now she rummages in my beauty bag while I dry her hair.

Your style is you.  

Carry on.  


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