You finally did it. You purchased yourself a new shirt. Granted, it’s most likely either off the clearance rack or under 10 dollars to begin with (revisit “To Buy or Not to Buy”) but you took a baby step forward to acknowledging you’re still a woman that needs to be decently clothed once in a while.
So, you have a birthday party to attend. Naturally you decide to wear your new shirt. The process of getting dressed is most likely interrupted a few times. You’re pulling pants up… a giggling toddler is attempting to tug them down… Anyway, point is that you are, at least from the waist up, wearing a new outfit and want to glance in mirror at this phenomenon. “Hmm… not too shabby.” Feeling like $999,999 bucks, you gather the kids and head out the door.
You arrive at the party, scramble to get the kids out and make sure everyone is situated. Booger check…straighten shorts…tie shoes…fix hair…everyone’s in order. Well, almost everyone. While prepping your children to enter the party looking crisp and smart, you notice a spot on your new shirt. Schmutz… That unidentified spot dead center of your chest that sticks out like a sore thumb. You can’t, for the life of you, figure out where, what, or how this mystery dollop made it’s way onto the new shirt you finally purchased for yourself…”What the heck?!”
You’re obviously furious. With yourself, the kids, the dog?… Who knows. Somewhere, somehow the universe turned against you and granted you with the ruin of a bi-yearly event.
At this point you simply give up. Now you’re back to the state of mind where you never buy anything for yourself, EVER. “I knew it…I knew this was going to happen!”
Is there any hope for victory over the schmutzmeister?… Nope. It is what it is (story of our lives). Rock the schmutz, own the schmutz. You’re mid life crisis will gift you with all the cleanest and best kept shirts you can imagine.
Much like the baby weight we’re still trying to get off and the stretch marks lining your stomach and hips, schmutz can you added to the long list of battle wounds that Mothers must bare. Hey…..schmutz happens.