Being a mother is a not easy. Aside from nine moths of pregnancy, a grueling long laborious birth followed by hideous stretchmarks and vericous veins commemorating the event, the most difficult part of motherhood is losing your old fabulous self and taking on the new identity as “Mother”. Throughout the years I have witnessed the most glamorous women trade in their designer wardrobes and stilettos for practical stretch pants, oversized t-shirts and running shoes that have been stashed away in the back of their closet since the early 90’s. “Not me”, I vowed rubbing my seven month bump. “I am going to be the Yummiest Mummy out there. My baby will be proud to have me as his mother”. So I went shopping.

Most expectant mothers read baby books. I stocked up on gossip magazines featuring the latest celebrities who were expecting babies or recently had one. I would study these magazines in awe, amazed at the transformations in these women. “Denise Richards lost all her baby weight in little as 7 days”. “Kate Hudson returns to work six weeks after having baby Ryder”. “Gwenyth Paltrow and Baby Apples wear matching Gucci outfits”. These were my idols. My inspiration. To me they represented the true heroines of all time. They managed to accomplish the impossible; to take on the role of a “Mother” without losing their former identity or superstar status. Motherhood did not transform these women from divas to dags. In fact it added to them. They are now Divas with diva babies. Which is what I too would strive to be.

At eight months pregnant I had a dream. I was walking down Rodeo Drive five days after having my beautiful bundle of Joy. Shopping Bags from all the big name designers were hanging off the handlebars of the stroller. I was dressed in a fabulous outfit displaying a trim fit physique. My hair was styled jus the way I like it and my face was masked with an oversized pair of Chanel sunglasses. The baby bag was a Louis Vuitton carrier with a matching mini tote used to hold the baby bottles, just like the one Sarah Jessica Parker uses for her baby. Everything was fabulous. I looked like a celebrity. I was a glamour mom.

This status was not as easy to achieve as I originally thought. I gained over fifty-five pounds during my pregnancy. How is it possible to lose that much weight in five days? Kate Hudson gained seventy pounds during her pregnancy and lost all of it in six weeks. If she can do it, so can I. This became my mantra. I plastered the walls in my house with before and after pictures of celebrity Moms. Despite breastfeeding and sleepless nights, I limited myself to a strict diet and workout regime that would make any celebrity sweat. I dressed myself in the latest trends and never once fell prey to the tempting comforts that spandex and t-shirts had to offer. I learned how to push a stroller wearing stilettos, how to cover up my exhaustion by wearing designer sunglasses, and how to mask the smell of baby vomit by drowning myself in expensive perfume. I accomplished my goal. I became a glamour Mom.

Knowing that I have achieved Glamour mom status gave me a confident edge in my parenting abilities. I can do anything any other great mother does with their kids; sing songs, read books, go for walks play sports, however I can do it in style. I wanted people to look at me that same way I would look at the celebrities and say “Look how put together she is. She is such a good mom plus she looks great. How does she do it?” It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s glamour mom!

One morning after dressing myself in a well orchestrated ensemble and spending thirty minutes painting my face and styling my hair, I went downstairs to tend to my son, now age two. Sitting on the couch watching his Baby Einstein video, he pointed a chubby finger to the TV. “Look. Mommy”. I glanced up at the screen and gasped in disbelief. On TV was a middle aged woman pushing a stroller wearing back stretch pants and a hot pink oversized t-shirt with worn out running shoes. My son gazed at the screen in adoration as he pointed affectionately at this woman once again. “Mommy. Mommy walking”.